Starfire (Grim Gate 2)

“It’s like I’m glitching or something and can’t move, but the rest of the game keeps on playing around me.”

Ethan’s eyes go from me to Hunter, watching to see if my familiar can sense anything. “The man you saw…where did he go?”

“I don’t know. It’s like he just disappears.”

Ethan gets to his feet again. “Stay here with Hunter. I’m going to check out the rest of the house.”

“Wait,” I say, realizing I forgot—again. “The doorbell camera picked up something the night you were gone. I was going to look but we were on the phone and then I got in the shower.” I grab my phone and open up the app, replaying the footage.

It was windy that night, and we haven’t taken down the icicle Christmas lights yet. They’re blowing in the wind, triggering the camera to pick it up as if someone was at the door. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and we really need to get up on a ladder and take those lights down. It’s almost February.

We go through two more videos and it’s looking like the only thing moving around the porch that night were killer Christmas lights.

“Wait,” Ethan says right as I’m about to drop my phone onto the couch, feeling like this is pointless. “What’s that?” He takes the phone from me and goes back a few seconds. “It’s hard to see, but look in the yard, between the maple trees.”

Something definitely moved behind the trees, but we can’t make out exactly what it is.

“It could be an animal,” Ethan says. “Or it could be the next demon.” He plays the next little clip of movement—it’s just the Christmas lights again. So is the next one, and the one after that is me going onto the porch to cast the protection circle. At the very moment that I saw the flash of light surround the house, the camera gets fuzzy.

“I’ll get the lights down tomorrow,” he says and plays the last video clip from that night.

“I’ll help. Do you think that was a demon?”

His eyes go to the fire. “I can’t say. If you hadn’t heard weird noises at the same time, I would tell you no. There’s no other reason to think that was a demon, and we live in the country. There have been coyotes, opossums, and raccoons getting into stuff in the yard before.”

“I know. Maybe that was just the fat raccoon that ate my horse treats. I kinda hope it is.” I pull my hair to the side and rake my fingers through it. “I haven’t seen him in a while, and I was worried someone ate him or I’d find him on the side of the road.”

Ethan’s hand lands on my thigh. “If something is going on, you know I’m here. We’ll deal with whatever it is together.”

“I know.” I take in a breath and slowly let it out. “Need any help with dinner?”

“Can you stir the rice? I’m still going to check the house out for any sign of…of anything that shouldn’t be there.” He kisses me and we both get up. I follow Ethan out of the library. He goes into the basement and I continue to the kitchen.

“What do you think?” I ask Hunter, grabbing a wooden spoon from a drawer. “I know what I saw, but I can’t help but feel a little…” I don’t even want to say it. Because I’m not crazy. Something is going on. I stir the rice, turn the burner down on the salmon, and join Ethan in the basement.

There’s not much down here. Just a few boxes of holiday decorations, one bin of my Renaissance Fair costumes, and then the washer and dryer.

“Anything?” I ask, stepping off the stairs.

“No, it all looks good.” Ethan checks another window. “The salt lines are in place. It doesn’t look like anything tried to get in, human or otherwise.”

“Whatever was here wasn’t physical.”

Ethan turns off the light and starts his way back to me. “Nearly every culture has some sort of legend or myth about demons causing sleep paralysis. But there is also a medical explanation. Your mind wakes up before your body and you’re paralyzed during sleep so you don’t get up and sleepwalk. The part of your brain that causes you to dream is still working, so you’re seeing your dreams.”

“If I’m paralyzed and watching my dreams play out before me, horses would walk into the bedroom. Not a shadow-figure.”

Ethan’s brow furrows and he sighs. “A lot has happened in the last few months. Finding out demons are real is enough to send a lot of people over the edge. But it’s deeper than that for you. You lost a friend,” he says gently. “And then moved halfway across the country. That’s a lot.”

“I know,” I agree because he’s right. I was packing up my house to leave the morning of Leslie’s funeral. It kept me busy, but maybe it didn’t allow me proper time to grieve? Is there a set amount of time you’re supposed to cry? What if the heaviness of grief never goes away? I’ll admit, I feel like I’m madly treading water, trying to keep myself from thinking about it and risk being pulled under.