The partially rotted carcass of a deer lay in the shallow water. Not Bill. Not another young girl. Just a deer.

Lights speckled her vision. A hand pushed her head between her knees.

“Breathe,” Danny said.

She did. Air flooded her lungs. The rush of blood faded from her ears. She lifted her head.

“Let’s keep going.” Jed nodded toward the oars.

Danny took his seat. His eyes focused on Mandy for a second, then moved away.

She resumed her seat in the bow. Danny rowed them out of the reeds. Jed lowered the motor and started it up. The boat resumed its cruise up the shoreline.

Mandy fixed her attention back on the water’s edge. The sun dropped toward the treetops. She checked her watch. Two hours till twilight.

Honey licked her face, and Mandy wrapped an arm around the dog’s neck.

Find Bill.

“We’re too late.” Conor gripped the armrest, and they drove past three state police cruisers and turned in to the lot behind the Black Bear Inn. His belly tensed. “Wait. That’s Danny’s car.”

Dr. Hancock parked next to the Challenger.

Relief budded in his chest. “But if he was here, why didn’t he answer his fucking phone the twelve times I called?”

He bolted from the car to the inn. The doctor’s long legs kept up just fine. He jogged up the porch steps and banged on the back door.

“Conor.” The gravity in her voice stopped him. He turned.

Her porcelain complexion had faded to bleached concrete. She pointed to a pot of flowers. “That’s my cauldron.”

“Shit.” A tall, thin man stood at the door. “I’m Detective Rossi.” He shook their hands.

Conor introduced himself and Louisa. “I’m looking for my brother. Dr. Hancock is the curator for the Winston Museum of Art and Archeology.”

Dr. Hancock explained the theft to the cop.

“That’s a Celtic artifact from your museum?” Rossi asked.

“Yes,” she said.

Rossi frowned. “Let’s discuss this inside.”

Guests gathered in the parlor. The police had set up camp in the dining room.

“Where’s my brother?” The sick feeling inside Conor’s gut answered before the cop.

“We have no idea where they are. They took off before we got here.” Rossi swept a hand over a salt-and-pepper buzz cut. “It looks like your brother might have been right all along. Nathan Hall could be planning another ritual.”

Nathan rearranged his offering, moving the shield to the center of the pile. Perfect. He glanced at the sky. The sun hovered low in the horizon. It would be dark soon. Time to prepare for the Bel-fire.

He would build it as carefully as a fire in his hearth. Paper on the bottom, then kindling, then the larger pieces of wood on top.