It was evening by the time I got home, and Leon was still asleep. But he’d changed position, so that at least told me he was beginning to move. Nervousness coiled in my stomach at the thought of him waking, and I rechecked my work on the circle for what was likely the dozenth time.
It would work. It had to work. He’d be trapped and he’d have no choice but to obey.
He’d be pissed.
I wasn’t pleased about doing it. But I was going to survive this.
While I still had daylight, I coiled the strands of blacklights around the stakes holding the severed heads to make them look a little more festive. I’d have to get some pumpkins and carve them, but that part could wait a few days. As I tested out posing my plastic skeletons around the yard in various provocative positions, I decided it was time to call the one person I knew besides the Hadleighs who might have the slightest inkling about all the weird shit happening in Abelaum.
My dad.
“Hey, sweet-pea,” he answered, using the nickname he’d given me as a baby. It occurred to me that it was probably a lot later in Spain than I had considered, but Dad had always been a night owl. “Decide to come join us yet?”
Dad hadn’t been particularly fond of me choosing to move back to the town he’d grown up in rather than go with them to Spain, and I was beginning to suspect he had a damn good reason for that. But I couldn’t exactly just blurt out to him that I was being hunted by monsters and was trying my hand at mastering a demon.
“The offer is tempting, but I think I’ve got it under control here,” I said, smiling despite the fact that it was an utter lie. I didn’t have it under control. Not in the least. “Just wanted to give you a call, see how it’s going. How’s the weather over there?”
Dad loved to talk once he got going; he told me all about their house, promising me that Mom would email me photos of the place soon. Their drives into town consisted of exploring the coastline, trying tiny cafes, and falling in love with Spanish coffee houses. I continued decorating as he talked, letting him ramble despite the growing anxiety in my stomach. His voice was a comfort — a tiny piece of home, of normalcy.
But nothing was normal anymore.
“Made any new friends up there?” I finally was given the space to get a word in, but I still stuttered for a moment before I answered.
“Uh…I, uhm…yeah. Yeah, everyone is really friendly up here.”
Dad chuckled. “Those small towns can either be real friendly, or real off-putting. Folks gotta welcome you in.”
“They’ve been really welcoming,” I stood back, surveying the skeletons’ newest position, with one bent over in front of the other over a log. It made me snicker, so I decided to keep it. “Actually, I met someone who says they went to high school with you. Kent. Kent Hadleigh? Sound familiar?”
There was a long pause. For a second, I thought the line had gotten disconnected.
“Hadleigh,” Dad said slowly. “Yes. Yes, I remember Kent. Wealthy family. Big house…up off of uh…” I heard him snapping his fingers in thought. “Off Water Crest Drive. How’d you run into him?”
“Art Festival in town. I went with his kids, they’ve been really cool to me.” Why did it make me so nervous to ask this? What was I so afraid of hearing? “Did you know Kent very well? Were you friends?”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say we were friends, no. We ran with different crowds. His family was, uh, well…bit of an odd bunch, the Hadleighs.”
“Really? How’s that?” Odd like, eccentric? Or odd, like, I-run-an-evil-death-cult?
“It’s just those small towns,” Dad muttered, and I could practically hear him shake his head. “Gossip goes around, people get all kinds of strange ideas. Superstitions and such, you know. The kind of stuff you like, I guess, but they really take it seriously. The Hadleighs have lived in Abelaum a long time. One of the founding families, as I recall.”
“Our family was up here a long time too, weren’t they?”
“Oh yes, your great-great grandfather, Titus Lawson, moved over there when it was still just the mining operation. There was always a Lawson in Abelaum, up until us and your grandmother moved.” He paused. “And, well, now there’s a Lawson there again. I suppose that place just draws us back, eh?”
“I guess so,” I felt a bizarre mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief, because my father hadn’t immediately reacted in horror to the Hadleigh name. But now I had even more questions than answers. “How is Grams, anyway? What is she —”