“Give me a second,” Keith says and keeps scrolling. “Ah, found her on Facebook. It looks like she has two brothers. One is older and not on social media since he’s not tagged in any of the photos, and a younger brother.” We wait while he follows the links to get more information on the brother. “He lives in LA and is pursuing a career in film.”
Ethan drapes his arm around me. “If anything is going on, I will figure it out.” He tips his head down, resting his forehead against mine for a split second. It’s an intimate gesture, though Ethan never has cared who sees us partake in any sort of PDA. And I know he’s feeling horrible for doubting me, though he only downplayed what I was experiencing because he didn’t want anything to be wrong.
And we still can’t say something is for sure wrong.
Claire is all sorts of suspicious, but we cannot jump to conclusions just yet.
“I’m asking my cousin if she remembers Claire,” Keith says, firing off a text. “They would have graduated together.” He looks up from his phone and smiles. “I feel like I’m on an episode of supernatural Gossip Girl or something. And this house—ugh—it’s just perfect.”
“Thanks. Though I can’t take too much credit for anything. My aunt had it all renovated before we moved,” I say.
“She had good taste.”
“Yeah,” I agree, though I really don’t know anything about Aunt Estelle’s taste. The house is done exactly how I would have remodeled it, making me think she somehow knew, and everything was catered to me.
Ethan’s phone rings. It’s Sam, and he gets up and goes into the kitchen to answer. Hunter takes his place on the couch, nuzzling his head against me. I didn’t tell Rene or Keith that he’s a familiar yet. They’ve already been given a lot to process, and for some reason, I like keeping that info to myself.
“I heard back from my cousin,” Keith exclaims. “Okay…she did graduate with a Claire Gentry. She said she was pretty normal and was in the drama club with her. Claire’s mom is a seamstress and altered everyone’s dance dresses.”
“Oh, I remember that now,” Rene says. “Fuck…what’s her name…Kara Gentry, I think? She did all my alterations. I went to every single dance and was much skinnier back then but still have these.” She gestures to her large breasts. “I had issues finding dresses that fit.”
“I only went to my senior prom,” I admit with a shrug.
“Really?” Keith’s brows go up. “I lived for dances. I was the first Prom King to be crowned with another King my junior year. It was a big fucking deal for our small-town, hillbilly high school back then.”
“That’s awesome. And yeah…I was that stereotypical horse girl and homecoming and prom always fell on a horse show weekend and I picked horses every time.”
“Smart,” Rene says. “If I could go back in time, I’d tell my younger self to pick horses over boys.”
“I would say I’d say the same, but that would be a lie,” Keith says, and we all laugh. “Oh, got more from my cousin. Her boyfriend works at Lunchbox with Claire, and she’s quiet and keeps to herself but is good to work with. And she thinks she just started at the salon a few weeks ago.”
Of course, she did. “That helps. I think. Thanks.” I let out a sigh and the oven timer goes off. Since we ended up leaving before we got lunch, I put two frozen pizzas in the over. We all migrate into the kitchen, and Rene and Keith ask me more about being a witch as we eat. I don’t have the answers they’re hoping for since it’s still so new to me too.
I’m feeling much lighter when they leave nearly an hour later. The background check on my stylist came back with nothing out of the ordinary, though we don’t suspect her anymore. I go back into the kitchen after walking Rene and Keith out, thinking everything over. Did I say too much? Not enough? They believe me, I’m sure of it. Rene saw demons with her own eyes, and Keith took it all in stride, believing his best friend—talk about loyalty, right?
Ethan is in the living room, talking to Julia on the phone as she does some sort of internet deep-dive on Claire Gentry. I rinse our plates and put them in the dishwasher, absentmindedly looking out at the pasture. I can see Mystery’s tail swish as he goes behind the barn and out of view. I smile, trying not to cringe at how yellow his fur looks against the white snow. It’ll be a long time before I can give him a bath again.
I turn off the sink and put the last plate in the dishwasher. Smile still on my face, I look back outside at the horses and donkeys. Eye widening, my heart jumps into my throat. The pristine white snow is stained with blood, and all four members of my little herd lay dead in the pasture.