“It is, but it works.”
“In what sense? It sounds like a mix between a cleansing drink that clears you out and a Hot Toddy.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m getting you Advil.”
That hair standing up on the back of your neck feeling starts to settle on me, and I close my eyes, forcing my mental shields up as high as I can get them to go. Ethan sits up when I return with the medicine and sounds all stuffy. I know colds can hit you hard and fast, but for something to come on this all of the sudden, it’s more likely he has the flu.
“Thanks,” he says with a cough.
“Go back to sleep,” I urge. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but I kinda need you not to be sick so we can fight demons.”
“I’ll be fine in the morning,” he insists again, and we both settle back down. I rub his back until he’s asleep, and then roll over, trying to get comfortable so I can fall asleep, but I can’t turn off my damn mind.
I miss my friend, of course, but there’s something else nagging at me, and the feeling that I’m missing something glaringly obvious is starting to eat away at me as well. The creepy dreams, the ghost Ryan, the bird-demons, and the Pricolici…they’re all connected somehow. I just don’t know how. I roll back over, hooking my leg over Ethan’s and close my eyes. If Ethan has the flu, it’s only a matter of time before I get it. I need to sleep.
Aunt Estelle…if you can hear me, I could really use you—I sit up as the thought enters my mind. For years, Aunt Estelle has been sending me weird presents. I wonder if I’ll find them weird anymore. Careful not to wake Ethan, I pad out of the room, Hunter in toe, and go into the basement. It doesn’t take long for me to sort through the boxes in the storage room before I find the one I’m looking for. It’s too big and heavy to carry upstairs, so I drag it to the little clearing in front of my washer and dryer, sitting cross legged on the floor as I pull out random items.
“I remember getting this,” I tell Hunter as I pull a tattered and worn book from the box. It’s the size of a large chapter book, and the cover is sage green with no text or image on it. “I thought it was about creepy fairytale creatures and this pig-thing with fangs on the first page freaked me out. But it’s not about fairytales. It’s a book about demons.” Tucking the book under my arm, I go back upstairs and into the living room.
My hands shake as I flip through the pages, silently praying I’ll find answers. Starting to get nervous I won’t get so lucky, I quickly flip through page after page. Nearly halfway through the book, I find them.
The bird-demons.
“Harvesters,” I read out loud to Hunter. A rush of excitement flows through my veins. I finally know what the hell these things are. “An ancient, evil being summoned to collect, or ‘harvest,’ powers of other magical creatures. Often seen working alongside a more powerful demon, the Harvesters stop at nothing to obtain their goal. The Harvesters have a special ritual to extract one’s powers, which usually results in the victim’s demise. While these creatures possess the strength of a man, battle is not their domain.” I sit still for a minute, letting that sink in. I want to tell Ethan, but he’s asleep and needs to rest. This isn’t anything that can’t wait until morning.
If Harvesters are after me, then someone wants my powers. But who? And how did they know about my powers when I only found out about them myself a few weeks ago?
Suddenly, darkness encases me. I feel the book slide off my lap and onto the floor. My heart pounds in my head. I lean against a tree, trying to catch my breath. I don’t know what they want from me. I’m so terrified. White-hot fear courses through my body, making me tremble. The barn is so close…I’ll be safe when I get there. After another few seconds, I sprint forward. I can see the dark silhouette of the barn and feel relief wash over my heart. I fall to the muddy ground to find the spare key. It’s been so long since I’ve used it, but it has to be around here somewhere. Frantically, I turn over stones and root through fallen leaves.
I feel the key just before hands with razor-sharp nails grasp my shoulders, throwing me back with such force that it knocks the wind out of me. My head cracks against the root of an oak tree. Once my fuzzy vision clears, the face of a Harvester looks down at me, hissing in delight.