“I don’t know what to do. I used a ouija board to talk to my dad and he won’t say goodbye.”
“Ah, shit. You need to call the Chaser.”
I nod. “Oh, right. I’ll call him.”
“If he can’t come, call me back and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.”
I end the call and look around the living room for Wilder’s card, finding it and typing the number into my phone. It only rings once before he answers.
“Wilder.”
“It’s me, Keagan Bishop. I have a problem.” As loud, thumping bangs sound from the ceiling above me, I swallow hard. “A serious problem.”
Chapter 7
Wilder
Alittle over thirty minutes later—thanks, rush-hour traffic—I’m pulling into Keagan’s driveway. His frantic call was exactly what I expected to happen after he sent me away earlier. At least we won’t have to drag this out too long. If all goes well, I can get this wrapped up within a few days.
I exit my vehicle, gazing up at the house for signs of danger, but it seems calm at the moment. Before I even make it to the porch, the front door swings open, and a desperate looking Keagan offers me a tense smile.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Of course.” I follow him inside, looking up as loud pounding rattles the ceiling light fixture. “Has it gotten worse since you called me?”
“No, but it’s consistent. Before, it was sporadic, but now it’s not stopping.”
“Tell me what happened right before this.”
Keagan lowers his gaze and looks contrite as he wrings his hands. “I went rogue.”
I nod, encouraging him to continue.
“I went out and bought a ouija board.”
“You did what?”
“He wouldn’t talk to Mercy and Talon, the mediums, so I thought maybe he would talk to me alone, and he did, but now like I told you on the phone, he seems to have escalated.”
“Did something negative happen during your session?”
“I asked him if he committed the murders and he said a demon made him do it. Is that even real? Can demons do that? I never believed in this possession stuff, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t think that makes it better though, even if it was a demon, which could just be a lie, right?”
“Take a breath, Keagan.”
“Right. Sorry. I’m word vomiting. I do that when I have a lot on my mind.”
“That’s fine.” The thumping gets louder. “I suppose I should go up there and see what’s going on.”
“Should I come with you?”
“Not yet. Let me assess.”
Keagan nods. “I’ll make tea. Or would you prefer coffee? It’s late, so caffeine might be a problem for you. I have decaf though if you’d prefer?—”
“Keagan.”
