Baxter growled again, baring his teeth this time. Baxter has the heart of a warrior, and small as he is, he’s got the same dog-sharp senses of hearing and smell as any German Shepherd. I’d only heard him make this sound when he and I had been under attack from nasty spirits.
Something evil was out there. It was between me and my car, and I was going to bet that it was faster than I was.
I let the old dog collar slip down under my sleeve to jangle around my wrist, and my ghost dog, Bo, appeared beside me. I wasn’t worried about any of the residents seeing a ghost. Sadly, anything they claimed to see would likely be discounted. That’s one of the dangers with dementia: the monsters you see might be real, and no one will believe you.
Bo’s growl was a deep rumble. I reached into my tote bag and pulled out my wooden spoon athame. I decided that keeping the spoon and the dog collar with me was a pretty good idea. But I still hadn’t moved. I had no idea whether or not the cold light force I could muster up with my athame would have any effect on the shadow. And I had no guarantee that making the shadow back off long enough to get into my car would keep it from attacking me once I was on the road.
Decisions, decisions. I could call Sorren or Teag, but that might just put them in danger without knowing what we were up against. Then again, I couldn’t stay here all night.
Just as I was reaching for my cell phone, I saw something silver streak across the lot, like a metallic baseball. The metal ball landed right in front of the dark shadow, and when it hit the asphalt, it burst into a blindingly bright light and a sharp pulse of high-pitched sound that made Baxter howl and gave me an instant headache.
The dark shadow writhed and winked out of existence.
“You can come out now, Cassidy. It’s gone.” The voice was familiar, but not someone I expected to see here, or now. Chuck Pettis walked out of the darkness on the edge of the parking lot.
I’d met Chuck a while ago when we were fending off some other bad nasties. He’s in his mid-fifties, with short-cropped, graying hair and a too-thin frame. Don’t let the gray hair fool you. He’s smart and tough, and he’s fought enough supernatural bad guys to be sneaky, too.
“How did you know there was going to be something in the parking lot?” I asked, giving the area one more sweep before I crossed the wardings.
“Because I come here a couple of nights a week to play cards with an old neighbor of mine, and I got bad vibes the last few times I came over,” Chuck replied. “So I started carrying.” He didn’t necessarily mean a gun, although knowing Chuck, he probably had at least one of those close at hand. I knew he meant weapons like I had just seen, things that could take out a supernatural foe. He’d had plenty of practice, back when he worked with a Black Ops military unit – the kind of Black Ops that bagged paranormal threats, not run-of-the-mill terrorists.
“Why would something like that want into an Alzheimer’s unit?” I asked. Chuck fell in step next to me, giving Baxter and me an escort to my blue Mini Cooper.
“If I had to guess, it’s because of Old Man Thompson,” Chuck replied. He was just a few feet away from me, close enough that I could hear him ticking. Chuck has an obsession about timepieces, and he never goes out without wearing a vest covered with working wristwatches. Teag and I call him ‘Clockman’.
“Why him?” I asked. Chuck stood guard as I got into the car.
“Because back in the day, my Ops unit had that sweet old man on a watch list,” Chuck replied. “Once upon a time, he was the most powerful sorcerer in Charleston.” He bent down and looked through the window. “Trouble’s coming. I can feel it. Be careful, Cassidy. Call me if you need me.” And with that, Chuck straightened, slapped his hand on the car roof in farewell, and watched until I was out of sight.
“WHAT DO YOU think it’s worth?” The stranger who stood on the other side of the counter tapped his toe, anxious to be anywhere but here. That much was pretty clear. He