“But the three staff members who died under mysterious circumstances aren’t.”
I frown, straightening.
Gwen’s eyes gleam in the dim light. “And the three fathers of the patients who died.”
“What are you saying?”
“Magdalene stayed at Cross Hills Asylum for a period of almost eighteen months. During that time, three patients, their fathers, and three faculty died.” She raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to make the dots. “333.”
Aron snorts, rubbing his brow. “What’s next? 666? That’s so fucking stupid.”
“Is it, though? Numerology is a big thing in theology, you know.”
Rolling his eyes, Aron rises to his feet. “I’m gonna take a piss.”
I watch him exit the room. “How did they die?”
Gwen searches through the file until she finds the paper she needs, then hands it to me. “Eden Lockett, one of the nurses, drove her car off a bridge.”
I shiver.
“Maybe it was an accident?” Lily suggests.
“The weather was clear that night.”
“Irene Perry, another nurse, died alone in an elevator when the cables snapped and sent her hurtling to her death,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Don’t tell me that was an accident, too?” Gwen asks, reaching for the vodka bottle. “The other staff member, one of the doctors, Dr.Benthall, was particularly fond of shock treatments. He was found dead in his home after a suspected snake bite.”
“Snake bite? So he had a pet snake?” Dominic asks.
“Not just any snake. A boomslang snake. One of the most venomous snakes on the planet. To get bit by one is considered the most painful way to die.” She swigs the vodka. “They exist in Sub-Saharan Africa. What are the odds our doctor kept one as a pet?”
“Is it even legal to keep such a poisonous snake as a pet?” Lily asks, and Gwen shrugs, placing the empty bottle on the table. “Fuck if I know.”
“Why is it the most painful way to die?” I ask.
“The venom destroys red blood cells, preventing clotting, which leads to hemorrhaging. You also get a high fever, feel nauseous, and can’t stop shaking.”
“I guess no one found the snake?”
“You guessed that right. No snake. No vivarium. No sign that he kept any pets of any sort.”
Aron returns, flopping onto the couch and resting his booted foot on the table.
“What I can’t figure out,” Gwen muses, “is why it can’t enter you?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Aron says. “We had no fucking problems with any of this shit until she arrived.”
“That’s enough,” Dominic booms. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
Aron laughs. “Or what? You want to fight?” He shoots to his feet. “Let’s fight.”
“Guys…” Gwen pleads. “Stop it. You’re just giving it what it wants.”
“If she hadn’t rocked up in our town, our friends would still be alive.” Aron’s voice is a low growl, his statement making my chest ache. He’s right.
“Her being here doesn’t change the fact that there’s a demon on the loose. How many other deaths are related to it? Remember a few years back when Davis’s boy disappeared after entering the woods? They sent out search parties but never found the body. Three years later, bang on the fucking anniversary—come to think about it, on the third day of the third month of the third year—the father was seen entering the woods. The next day, they found his backpack but not him. Think about it. It can’t be a coincidence that our demon is here, in our little backward town. For fuck’s sake, Camryn’s property backs up on a serial killer’s farm.” She jabs her finger at the window. “We have a mental asylum down the road, and a damn creepy one at that. We’re a hotspot for supernatural creatures with a taste for misery. Who knows what else this place has attracted.”
