I let out a short laugh. “I…I’m sorry. But I’ve never been this scared my entire life. I’ve been in some shit, but this…no, I doubt I’ll ever be fucking with this kind of stuff ever again.”

It gave a small shrug. “As you will. You did well tonight. Better than many would have in your place. Perhaps that is enough.”

I was surprised to find I felt conflicted. “Well, tell me your name at least. I don’t plan on ever calling for you, but…well, just in case.” I glanced up at the red heartbeat of emergency lights that started to appear near the front of the property.

It made a short chortling sound. “You are interesting, Mr. Spires. I like it. As for my name, it is Rilla. If we do not meet again, I wish you well on your path.” I looked away for a moment as the ambulance pulled up, and when I looked back, Rilla was gone.

It’s been three months since that night. Jack was taken to the hospital and treated for his various injuries, including inexplicable trauma to his internal organs. We were both questioned extensively regarding what had happened to lead to us both being injured, a house being burned down, and two people turning up dead. Due to Jack’s condition, I gave my statement first, and I largely told the truth…with some changes to keep myself out of jail.

I said that Oscar, my uncle-in-law, had gone crazy and killed his wife. When I learned about it upon visiting her, I was angry and went to confront him at work. He attacked me and Jack, and he must have killed the young couple, Tommy Peters and Jessica Fortesque, at some point during the night as well. As for what had happened to Oscar, I didn’t know.

That lie was a calculated risk, but a good one. As I had set that underground nest of the Rot to burn, it began to collapse in on itself, and before I was done in the cellar, the tunnel had done the same. The earth was still obviously loose and sunken, but there was little sign that a tunnel had existed there before. If they went digging, I doubted they’d find more than a few cheap LED candles for their efforts.

When Jack was able to talk, he was initially very careful in what he said. His old cop training and reserve kicked in, I guess. But at some point it became too much for him. He talked about Oscar attacking us, but he also talked about magic rats and evil worms and all kinds of stuff that…well, it sounded insane to anyone but me. So he was transferred to a mental health facility for treatment and I was told not to leave town.