Page 22 of The Devil You Know
They’d made progress, but at what cost?
Does Joe Mack know about Osborn? If Toby’s right, Joe is even older. Do immortals who live in the same area keep track of each other? I’d think that they’d figure out who was suspiciously long-lived. Unless Joe’s magic and Osborn’s witchiness can hide them.
Evan knew that the only way to find out was to meet Joe at the diner. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, pausing next to a photo fastened to the wall. In it, he and Seth stood with their arms around one another, laughing. The Blue Ridge Mountains stretched behind them, and the late afternoon sun gave the photograph a special glow.
“I’ll find you,” Evan promised Seth, staring at the photo. “I swear to God I will. Hang on. I’m coming.”
* * *
Gus’s Dinerlooked like it had been around forever. The 1940s vibe was original, not hipster retro. Evan wondered if that made it more comfortable for a man who still remembered that era.
He looked toward the rear booth and took a moment to size up his potential ally, who sat with his back to the wall as if expecting trouble.
For a man who was more than a century old, Joe Mack looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had a workingman’s build, with broad shoulders and strong arms. Joe had blond hair, a wide face, and light blue eyes. He might not be handsome, but he looked dependable, maybe even trustworthy.
For Seth’s sake, Evan hoped his first impression held true.
Evan strode to the rear booth and stopped beside the table. He figured that Joe had been sizing him up while he’d been taking Joe’s measure.
“Joe Mack?” he asked.
“Guess you must be Evan. Have a seat.” He gestured toward his half-empty coffee cup. “You want to order something?”
“Just coffee,” Evan said as Joe signaled a server.
Once Evan had a steaming cup in front of him, Joe gave him another appraising look.
“You’re younger than I expected.”
“I hear you’re older than you look.”
Joe chuckled. “Wojcik tell you that?”
Evan shook his head. “Toby Cornell, and Milo.”
“They’re good people.” Joe took a sip of coffee. “So, what’s your problem?”
Evan glanced around, but no one was seated close enough to overhear. He decided to take a flying leap of faith for Seth’s sake and be completely honest. Joe listened without interrupting and didn’t act as if any part was too fantastic to be believed.
“The two of you have stopped four of these bastards?” Joe asked when Evan finished.
“Seth trained before he set out on his…quest,” Evan replied. “And after the first witch disciple, allies helped us with the other cases.”
“But you came to Cleveland without backup?”
Evan shook his head. “We expected to connect with Mark Wojcik or Travis Dominick since they’re not far from here. But everything moved faster than we thought it would. I guess Osborn was as ready for us as we thought we were ready for him.”
“Willis Osborn is a snake,” Joe said. “I knew he was a witch. Cleveland has plenty of those. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t have a beef with everyone with supernatural abilities. I’m not the police. I’m not even the Supernatural Secret Service.”
“I didn’t think you were. But I could use an ally. Especially one who knows the territory.” Evan felt his gut tighten. If Joe wouldn’t help, he could still turn to Mark and Travis.
“What’s your plan?”
“Find Seth, steal the anchor, stop Osborn from killing his next victim, and cause his ritual to fail,” Evan replied, thinking how deceptively simple it sounded, and how dangerous and complicated—and insane—it was.
“What happens when the ritual fails?”
“Each of the witch disciples chose one of the deputies’ families to be his victims. When he works the ritual with his true sacrifice, it opens up some kind of rift where Gremory’s spirit is trapped. Then the disciple can steal power from Gremory, and the energy from the blood sacrifice keeps Gremory trapped. If the witch disciple uses a different victim, the spell isn’t as effective.”
