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“Gossip.”
I chuckled softly. “Well, if we do track it down, I’ll do my best to deal with it. But if worse comes to worst and it runs, I’ll throw a tracking spell. If it is some variation of ghoul, it’ll go to ground for the day. That’ll give us time to find and kill it.”
He nodded and didn’t say anything else. Several kilometers out of Castle Rock, he turned onto a dirt road and sped up a slight incline. The building on the top of the hill was another small, whitewashed cottage with a red tin roof and red-painted door. The veranda out the front was large enough to hold a rough-hewn table and two bench seats, and no doubt had a magnificent view over the valley.
All the lights were on inside, and there were three vehicles parked to the right. The first was a black Mercedes SUV that probably belonged to the couple who’d reported the incident, but the others were ranger vehicles.
Mac—a brown-haired wolf who’d transferred into the reservation a few years ago—stepped out onto the veranda as we pulled up.
I slung my pack over my shoulder and followed Aiden.
Mac gave me a nod of greeting and then said, “The creature tried to enter via the rear glass doors.”
Aiden motioned him to lead the way. “It seems to be developing a pattern.”
“Well, I guess glass doors would be somewhat easier to break into, given the lack of legs.” His tone hinted at amusement. “The doors weren’t forced open, though.”
“That suggests they weren’t even locked.”
Mac glanced at me over his shoulder. “They weren’t, but the creature didn’t get far, as the salt was thrown before it could attack. I guess it was lucky they’d been eating dinner and the shaker was already out on the table.”
“Timing is everything in the survival stakes,” I said. “Though it is a little odd the ghoul attacked so soon after dusk. They tend to wait until deeper darkness has arrived.”
“We’re talking about a creature that supposedly has no bottom half, so I think odd is a given.” The amusement was clearer in Mac’s tone this time.
“Where does the scent trail lead?” Aiden asked. “Into the scrub or down into the valley?”
“Former. I tracked it as far as the boundary but no further.” He shot me another look. “Was the creature simply spooked by the couple’s actions, or does salt really work against something like this?”
“Salt—pure salt—is a deterrent against most supernatural beings, though it’s better used in a protection circle or as a barrier against entry in doorways and windows.”
“Huh.” Mac’s gaze switched to Aiden. “Which means it might make sense for us to add a permanent tub of the stuff to our kits, boss.”
“Ask Maggie to get onto it tomorrow.”
Other voices were now audible. One was Jaz, another ranger who’d only recently moved into the reservation after marrying into the Marin pack. The other was most likely the woman whose love of ghost-hunting TV shows had probably saved the lives of her partner and her.
We walked around the rear of the building but didn’t head toward the still-open French doors. Instead, Mac leapt off the veranda and strode across to a stone path that wound its way up through a garden filled with trimmed roses and deciduous trees.
The rear fence was a weatherworn and hip-height picket; beyond it lay trees and scrub. I drew in a breath and caught a vaguely odorous scent that reminded me of death and decay.
“I’ll take the lead,” Aiden said. “Mac, rear point. Liz, if anything tweaks your senses, let me know.”
I nodded and tried to ignore the tension gathering within. The small gate creaked as Aiden opened it, the sharp sound echoing across the stillness of the night. Which, more than anything, pointed to the presence of evil having slipped past here not that long ago. Night creatures were far more sensitive to all things supernatural than most humans; the fact that even the possums weren’t moving about spoke to the foulness of this thing.
The hill soon steepened dramatically, and my legs began to burn. As my breathing became harsher, Aiden caught my hand and tugged me on. I wasn’t entirely sure it helped, but at least it meant I wasn’t slowing them down too much.
The tree line thinned out as we neared the top of the ridge, and stars gleamed in skies only partially covered by clouds. Aiden paused, his gaze searching the tree-lined valley below us, while I rested my hands on my knees and sucked in air. Fit I was not, even though I’d recently started intermittent jogging—though not in any way to lose weight, as I was perfectly happy just as I was. Of course, my definition of intermittent differed wildly from Aiden’s, which was why I tended to do it mostly on the days I stayed home. Belle was a far more patient and understanding jogging partner—mainly because she didn’t feel obliged to stay by my side the entire time, which in turn meant I could not only stretch out the running intervals but also shorten the time spent running. Although it had to be said, jogging wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. My muscles certainly recovered faster than I’d ever presumed they would.
Mac stopped beside Aiden, his hands on his hips and frustration evident. “The trail’s gone cold.”
“Yes.” Aiden glanced at me. “Are you getting anything on either a psychic or magical level?”
“Not a glimmer.” I pushed upright and studied the valley below. “I don’t suppose there’s an old graveyard down there somewhere, is there?”
“No.” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I guess we’ve no choice—”
“There is Barnett’s farm,” Mac cut in. “It’s on the far side of this valley, I know, but they do have a family burial plot on their land.”
