Joe said nothing, but I could tell he was thinking over what Jimbo had said.

  Jimbo turned me. “I’ll get what we need from my truck.” He and Murray had come in separate vehicles. Now, Jimbo headed out to his beat-up old pickup. How the thing still ran, I had no clue, but it ran smoother than most cars. Jimbo constantly worked on the vehicle, tuning it up and replacing parts. It might look like a relic from the 1950s, but it ran like one of today’s SUVs.

  I flexed my arm, wincing a little bit as the scabs pulled. “You’re right, you know. If we don’t catch that thing, chances are good it will eventually target Eileen. And it would kill Harlow if something happened to her. She can’t have another, so Eileen is all she has.”

  “How about you?” Joe asked. “Are you okay with the fact that we never had any more kids?”

  I had thought about it a lot during the past seven years. I had been so certain we were going to have twins—I had seen it in a premonition. But my body wasn’t willing to cooperate.

  At first I mourned, because though I hadn’t thought about having more kids, something inside perked up when I thought about building our family. After reality hit, I had grieved for a few months. But I had Kip and Miranda, and they treated Joe like the father Roy should have been. I was lucky, and I had started to focus on what I did have rather than what I didn’t have.

  “I’m good,” I said. “I love our life, and I don’t feel any lack. Truth is, I didn’t expect to find love again. Not after Roy. I didn’t know if I could trust again. Then you came along, and you swept me off my feet. And you still do,” I said leaning down to plant my lips on his.

  I meant what I said. Joe might be disabled now, but it didn’t change the way I felt about him. I wished he could be his old self again, for his sake more than anything else. But who he was now—disability and all—well, he was still my beloved Joe. And he always would be.

  He let out a sigh, leaning back. “I want you,” he said. “I don’t suppose we have time to sneak off to our room?”

  “I wish we did. I would absolutely get naked for you, but Jimbo should be back in a moment and—” I stopped, turning when Jimbo entered the room.

  “I heard that,” Jimbo said, grinning. “I promise I’ll bring her back in one piece as soon as I can so you two can get your groove on. Meanwhile, we’ll take our phones and keep in touch with you.” He motioned to his backpack. “I think I have everything we need. Are you ready?”

  “Should we wait for James to get back?”

  Jimbo shook his head. “I don’t think it’s wise for us to take Harlow or James with us. Neither one has really dealt with anything like this before. And while I’m getting older and you’re—”

  “Don’t say it! I know I’ve put on some padding, but I still go to the gym twice a week.”

  Jimbo grinned, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to mention your extra padding. I was going to say that you’re still injured from yesterday. But I think you can handle it, and I know you would tell me if you couldn’t.” It was a statement, not a question, but I realized that he wanted an answer.

  “I’m all right. I ache a little, but nothing is going to put a damper on me moving around. Let me go switch out my shoes for sneakers.” I was wearing a pair of chunky-heeled ankle boots, and they weren’t the best for uneven ground or mucky, muddy holes. I ran upstairs to change—I had left my clothes in the upstairs closet so as not to clutter our bedroom space downstairs. While I was at it I changed into an older shirt. Then, deciding it was now or never, I headed back downstairs to Jimbo, to go monster hunting.

  Chapter Nine

  Jimbo and I stood by the edge of the well, staring down into it. I glanced at him. We had been at odds when we first met, and he had even shattered my front window with a brick, but now I considered him a good friend. In fact, I had found that he had certain kind of wisdom that a lot of my other friends lacked. It came from being streetwise, rather than book-learned.

  He had returned to vocational school a few years ago to get certified so that he could open a mechanic’s shop and show proof that he knew what he was doing. He didn’t really need it, he knew cars inside and out, and motorcycles too, but that paper certificate seemed to assure his customers.

  “How do you think she got down there?” I asked.

  “I think the creature carried her off and ate her, then after the well was closed over, the thing dragged her remains in there through that tunnel. Whatever we’re dealing with, it isn’t stupid. And it doesn’t want to get caught.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s from the astral plane,” I said. “So, how are we going to work this?”

  “First, you’re going to take this.” He handed me a big old butcher knife in a sheath. “Snap it on your belt.”

  “You really think that is going to work on an astral creature?”

  “I have no idea. But just in case we can’t beat it off with sticks and stones, at least we can give this a try.”

  I looped the sheath over my belt strap, snapping it shut. It made me self-conscious to wear it, but I had to admit, I felt better with some sort of protection.

  “We have no idea it’s going to be effective against this creature, so we’re going in armed.” He handed me a headlamp, and I slipped it on my head after flipping it on to a steady, moderate beam.

  Jimbo had also brought a hammer and nails. He laid the beam that Harlow had dragged over the day before across one end of the hole, then found a crossbeam that looked in good condition. He sawed it in half, then nailed each side of the crossbeam to form a sturdy brace overhead. It left us enough room to go down into the hole, but it would prevent either beam from breaking and falling in after us. I patiently waited till he was done, and then he looped a rope ladder over the beam and unrolled it, letting it drop down into the well.

  “Have you ever used a rope ladder before?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I may have, but honestly, I don’t remember. It doesn’t look that difficult.”

  “It’s not that easy, either. The main key is to keep it from twisting as you climb down. Try not to let it swing too much, and try not to flail.” He paused, then said, “Maybe I should go down first and hold the end steady for you.”

  I didn’t protest. Jimbo knew what he was talking about.

  He crawled on top of the crossbeams, using them to brace himself as he swung one leg down onto the rope ladder. I watched him descend, taking note of how he maneuvered.

  A few moments later, he called up that he was ready.

  I took a deep breath, staring at the crossbeams, and then—on my hands and knees—I tried to replicate his movements, cautiously placing my left knee on the main beam, then swinging my right leg out so my foot could catch hold of the first rung. I was holding on so tightly that my knuckles were white.

  My foot hit the rung and I bit my lip. The ladder didn’t feel steady, but I finally managed to get both feet on the rungs and then—shaking—lowered my right foot to the next rung while still holding onto the beams. As I began to descend, I was growing more grateful that Jimbo was holding the end of the ladder. I couldn’t imagine trying to climb down if it was swinging freely. I finally made it to the bottom, and stepped off, still shaking.

  “I don’t like that,” I said. “I hope going up is easier.”

  “It actually is, so take heart. All right, see over there?” He turned his head to the side, his light shining against the wall of the well. “There’s the tunnel. I’m surprised the cops aren’t going to check it out.”

  “Because of a cold case from years ago? I kind of doubt they have the manpower to deal with it, given all the crap going on in Bellingham right now.”

  Bellingham had been besieged by protests, and while I agreed with a lot of the protesters, it still meant that the cops were spread thin and wide. A few had been fired for outing themselves as bad seeds, and the whole police department was going through a shakeup.

  “The tunnel looks almost big enough to stand up in.” I tried to gauge the height. It was almost as tall as me.

  “I’d say it’s about five feet high,” Jimbo said. “When I was down here before, I didn’t want to disturb anything, so I didn’t take a good look at it.”

  As we approached the tunnel, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the same feeling I had had when I was in the ruins of the house, right before I was attacked. I sucked in a deep breath and said, “There’s something down here. I don’t know whether it’s still here but I can feel the residue energy. I think it’s coming from the same creature that attacked me yesterday. Be careful.”

  Jimbo nodded, snapping open the sheath that held his own knife in place, similar to the one he had given me. He pulled out a wicked-looking butcher knife, holding it cautiously as he approached the tunnel. I thought of doing the same, but if I tripped, I could easily impale Jimbo’s ass on the blade. I stayed a step or two behind to give him room.

  The well wasn’t very wide—although it widened out at the bottom to about six feet in diameter. I could see the imprint where the skeleton had laid for so many years. Skirting the outline, feeling that it was somehow sacred, I joined Jimbo at the mouth of the tunnel.

  “Well, we’re here,” Jimbo said. “Are you ready?”

  I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I nodded. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

  Jimbo arched one eyebrow. “Shakespeare, right?”

  I nodded. “I’ve been rereading the classics in preparation for the night class I want to take. Now that Harlow’s writing books, I kind of want to do something to expand my mind.”

  What I didn’t say was that I was feeling slightly inadequate given her success. While I was thrilled for her, I had decided to at least make myself more aware of the world in which she now lived. With one of my best friends the chief of police, and the other a rising star in the publishing world, I felt more left out than I cared to let on. While my shop was successful in its own right, it felt like there was nowhere to go unless I wanted to open yet another business.

  “Okay, here goes.” Jimbo had to crouch down, given he was well over six feet, but he was nimble and knew how to navigate small spaces. I was lucky. At five-four, I only had to hunch over a little.

  I had expected the air in the tunnel to be musty, but to my surprise it seemed to be flowing fairly freely. The floor of the tunnel was worn down, and it made me think that someone or something had used it regularly throughout the years.

  I glanced at the sides, wondering if we had somehow managed to stumble on an old mineshaft. But if the tunnel had been here when the well was dug, the water would have just flowed into the passage, and the well wouldn’t have been very productive.

  Still feeling chills, from the energy more than anything else, I cautiously glanced over my shoulder to make sure nothing was coming up to bite us in the butt.

  “What the…” Jimbo trailed off.

  “What is it?”

  “Peek around me.”

  I did as he asked, gasping as I saw what looked like a foundation at the end of the tunnel. There was a hole in it, with broken bits of cement all around. I closed my eyes, visualizing where we would be if we were up on top. We’d be…beneath the ruins of the house.

  “Do you realize where we are?” I pointed upward.

  Jimbo paused, then nodded. “We’re underneath part of the house. But that can’t be the foundation. Basements aren’t twenty feet below ground.”

  “No, they aren’t. So why don’t we find out what’s going on?”

  Jimbo cautiously approached the hole, his blade held firmly in his right hand. While I didn’t feel confident in my ability to use it, I unsnapped the sheath on my own knife and slowly withdrew it, pointing it to the side so that he wouldn’t back up onto it. As we approached the crumbling wall, Jimbo took a deep breath, then looked back at me. I silently nodded. As he stepped through, he immediately switched his headlamp onto the brightest setting.

  I paused for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the shift in light, and then switched mine to the high setting as well. Then I followed him.

  One look around told me that we weren’t in a basement. A set of stairs had been built against the side of the wall, leading up to a trap door on the ceiling.

  That must be the floor of the basement, given the height of this room, I thought.

  Several load-bearing posts around the room held up the ceiling. The room was about twelve by fourteen, which was probably also the size of their cellar.

  I tried to imagine the creature I had seen building this, but it just didn’t compute. But if the creature hadn’t built it, then who had? A glance around the room showed that there was nothing down here except some etchings carved into the concrete.

  Jimbo let out a grunt. “Em, look over there.”

  I turned around and looked in the direction he was pointing.

  Against one wall was a cage about four feet wide by six feet tall. It had iron bars, and the door was shut, the lock looking rusted. But two of the side bars had been bent, leaving a hole that gaped large enough to step through. Whatever had been in there had managed to escape.

  I paused, staring at the large circle that had been carved into the concrete. Within the circle were strange markings, none of which I recognized right off-hand. Then everything clicked and I realized that the markings were magical symbols, and that whatever magic had been performed here had been very dark and very dangerous.

  Leonard Eversong, I thought. He had been part of a cult and now it seemed that maybe his whole family had been party to it, given how extensive this structure was.

  I looked from the floor to the cage, to the floor again and then I knew what the markings represented. This was a circle of summoning, and that creature had come through during a ritual. They had trapped it inside the cage. But it had been stronger than they expected and managed to escape. And it had killed and eaten Sarah Beth Eversong.

  I turned back to Jimbo. “The family who owned this farm—their son was a chaos magician, and I have a feeling that the father, and maybe the mother, were as well. They summoned that creature here, trapped it, and it got free. It’s trapped over here in our world. I don’t think it can return home.”

  “You mean someone in this family was a witch?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “More like a chaos magician, or maybe a ceremonial magician. Most witches I know don’t go around summoning creatures from the nether world unless it’s by accident or stupidity. No, they deliberately summoned the creature and trapped it in that cage.”

  At that moment, I felt someone by my side. I jerked, whirling around expecting the worst, but there was Nanna, dressed in the same floral dress that I had always seen her in since she had died. She looked worried as she pointed to the circle.

  You must activate this. Soon, because it’s your only hope of getting rid of that imp.

  I stared at her. “Imp? Activate the circle? I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Em, um…who are you talking to?” Jimbo asked.

  I glanced at him. “Nanna is here. She told me to activate the circle before it’s too late. Except I don’t know how. I’ve never worked with this type of magic before.”

  “You better figure it out really quick,” he said, his eyes glued on the opposite wall where the staircase was.

  “Why?” I said, turning slowly. And that was when I saw the creature, coming down the stairwell, its eyes shining as it gazed at us. And it looked pissed.

  Holy hell. I knew why Nanna wanted me to activate the circle. I could send the creature back to its home world through the same circle that had brought it here.

  “Keep it busy while I try to figure this out.” I dropped down to my knees and began to examine the symbols, trying to remember everything I knew about ceremonial magic. While I didn’t practice it, some aspects overlapped with my own traditions.

  Jimbo raised his knife. “Stay back,” he said.

  The imp paused, eyeing both of us carefully.

  Meanwhile, I was frantically trying to read the symbols, but there were at least a dozen of them spaced evenly around the circle. I finally found one that I recognized as earth, pointed toward the north. That meant…yes! To the west was the symbol for water. Which meant, to the south…yep! Fire. And to the east, air. As I leaned closer, I saw the stubs of old taper candles, fixed into holes that were placed with each elemental symbol.

  Whoever had built this had created a physical circle—a permanent fixture where everything was set up for ritual. Light the candles, the voice in my head urged.

  I fumbled in my pocket and found the lighter I always carried. I quickly lit the four candles, and then, moved to the center where—as I had thought—there was yet the stub of another candle. I lit it as well. As the candles flared to life, I noticed that there were four channels in the concrete that led from each elemental symbol to the center.

  Jimbo let out a shout and I turned as he lashed out at the creature, which had darted his way. Jimbo missed clipping him with the knife as the creature jumped back.

  Breathing heavily, I turned back to stare at the circle.

  “Nanna said it’s an imp. So…where do imps come from?” I stared at the candles. “Fire! They come from the realm of fire!”

  Nanna clapped her hands, her eyes gleaming. She wasn’t allowed to tell me how to do things, for the most part. Her role in my life as a spiritual guardian was limited, and neither one of us knew why. We were just aware that there were things she could do, and things she couldn’t.

  Frantic to find something combustible, I looked around the room.

  In one corner lay some smaller beams that had crashed through from the ruins above. I hurried over to inspect them, and sure enough, they had been protected from the weather and were dry as a bone.

  “Em, can you hurry it up?” Jimbo asked, still focused on the imp that was slowly edging closer to him.