Click to read Chapter One

Click to read Chapter Two

Click to read Chapter Three

Click to read Chapter Four

Click to read Chapter Five

Click to read Chapter Six

Click to read Chapter Seven

“We? Let’s discuss ‘we’ later. You haven’t told us what The Heritage, I mean Heritage is, why are you involved and what did you mean about my visions.”

“Heritage was formed to stop the Shadows, the Imps. Over time the Imps have been able to work around our controls, to break the bindings that Heritage created. My great, great grandmother was one of the ‘spell-casters’,” forming quotation marks in the air, “before you ask, no, not a witch, or at least not what you might envision as a witch, she and several other female members of the bloodline had some talent at binding spells, unfortunately that talent seems to have faded dramatically with my generation. That’s why the Imps have been able to form the Shadows and start the bloodletting again, each generation is supposed to reinforce the bindings, but I can’t, they just keep fading. If I can’t do something soon, I’m scared that Heritage will fail and the Imps will get their wish.”

Standing up and running her un-bandaged hand through her hair Rose stared at the recorder, still making its little whirring noise, red light still flashing.   

“There are seven Heritage members including me, we need to find them, find out who is still alive and if they have their rings. We also need to find the shrines, they are probably in a volute, either starting with mine or ending…”

“What, in a volute? What’s a volute?”

“Sorry, a volute is a spiral shape, like the end of a scroll, or a snail…a snail, is there a pond close to where my shrine was built?”

“Um, I don’t know…” looking confused.

“There’s a pond in that area yes,” Sara stood up as she spoke and moved closer to the table, “Mollusk Beach, because of the snails along the shore. It’s not a popular pond, there’s a lot of algae and rotting plants which is perfect for the snails but the smell keeps most folks away, it smells like ammonia, because of the dead snails, they decay rather quickly and produce that smell.”

“Ammonia? Ammonia, that’s it! At the house, is that what you smelled?”

“I thought it smelt like something I had tasted but maybe I was wrong, yeah, ammonia, that could have been it.” Sounding hopeful – it felt like they getting somewhere, finally, information that could lead….to something, maybe.

“That’s where we should start looking, that pond. For the other shrines and… things, if we can’t find the other Heritage members,” striding to the door and pulling it open.

“Rose, stop, firstly, you aren’t going anywhere near that place and secondly, we still have questions about what is going on, specifically how are you involved, when did all this start, who are these other Heritage members?” placing a hand on her shoulder and gently turning Rose back from the door, “and the rings, what are they for?”

“They might be running out of time, please, if the Imps have the other members… you don’t know what they’ll do to break the binding, what they’re capable of…,” collapsing back into her chair Rose looked up, and gasped, “you, you… you looked just like her…” shaking her head and staring, “I knew it, the visions, the Shadows targeting you, and it’s happened to you before, another case where you were connected. Where you felt things.”

“Looked like who, who did I look like?” reaching out to Rose and grasping her hand, “who Rose, someone in Heritage? Someone you know?”

Pulling her hand away, placing it in her lap, “give me a minute.”

Frowning slightly and taking a deep breath before speaking, “no not someone I know, someone I knew about. My mother and grandmother would tell stories about the family and Heritage. I’ve only seen pictures, her photo was on the mantle,” she stopped and looked directly in the deep brown eyes, feeling the connection.  

“I think…you’re her daughter.”

The room stilled, grew cold. The four of them a frozen tableau, each feeling that this was a pivotal moment but unsure of their place in the story. It felt like the walls were pulling back, growing darker, colder. Still no one spoke.

“Detectives? are you in there? Helloooo, there’s a message,” sing-song, “from the lab.”

“Baxter thank god!” throwing open the door, “yes, yes, a message from the lab, what did they say?” stepping out of the room.

The odd feeling dissipated, the room temperature was normal, the walls where they should be.

“I’m the long-lost daughter of a dead woman who was part of some freaky witchy family that stops demonic Imps trying to take over the world? That’s the story?” laughing, “Rose, come on.”

“Yes! No, I don’t know, maybe it was the light, or something, you looked just like her and she did have a baby, there is a story about a baby.” Rolling her head, stretching out her neck trying to prevent the tension headache she could feel forming, Rose closed her eyes.

“Look at her, she’s exhausted, I need to take her home,” picking up her jacket from the back of the chair Sara placed her hand on Rose’s shoulder.

“No, Sara I need to help, we need to go to that pond, I can find the shrines, I have to stop them.”  

“I agree with Sara, you need to rest. The pond can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t we start by locating the other six members, can you give us their names? Maybe addresses, anything you have, then you go home and let us do the police work, okay?” phrased as a question but the tone made it clear, there would be no discussion.

Deep in thought walking across the parking lot, Sara dangling the car keys from her right index finger, the late afternoon sun a dim glow behind the clouds, Rose a few steps behind. A flicker of movement to the left.

“Sara! No! Sara run!” a scream, “run, run!”

Sara turned to look back and saw a movement like a hummingbird at her ear, stepping back and waving her left hand a sharp pain pierced her scalp, “ow, what the hell!” still flapping her hand around her head, another pain, this one on her calf, wasps, how can there be wasps? Her confused brain felt another, then another sting of pain, what was happening?

She drops the keys, hearing them hit the ground a moment before she did, head bouncing slightly on the pavement, ears ringing …no it’s singing, there’s singing and laughing, what fun, but it hurts, stings – this isn’t right Rose – her last thought before succumbing to the peaceful painless dark.