Page 53 of The Devil You Know
“Why do you ask?”
“Sometimes I think he spots me in the crowd. I can feel him watching me. Maybe it’s my imagination—”
“It’s possible,” Johnny said, “but that would require an exceptionally strong bond between the two of you. That’s our opening. If he can see you, maybe you can get him to understand that he’s in a dream. If we can break the illusion, we might break Osborn’s hold on him. If he’s sleeping, or unconscious, that might help him wake up.”
“Okay,” Evan replied. “Then I’ve got a mission. This is the third day since he disappeared. The full moon is tomorrow. We’ve got to stop Osborn before he does the ritual.”
They remained linked to Seth’s illusion as long as Johnny could hold the connection. When it finally faded, Evan drew a deep, shaking breath.
“I had to let go,” Evan whispered. “But I told him the truth. I told him to run.”
“That’s all you can do,” Johnny replied, with more compassion than Evan would have expected.
Evan feared that if he responded he might break, so he cleared his throat. “Where are we on the plan? Time’s run out.”
“Adrian gave Jenna’s people the data mining results,” Joe reported. “And hacked the black box on Osborn’s car. Your hunch appears to be right about the old rehab hospital. There’s no reason for Osborn—or anyone else—to come and go, but he’s visited twice in three days. Once Adrian figured that out, his people put a drone camera watching the doors. There are guards discreetly patrolling the outside, and a sketchy doctor who lost his license stops in every day.”
“Like that’s not ominous,” Evan muttered.
“Jenna’s got a Supernatural Secret Service team ready to go,” Joe replied. “They’ll go in and sweep the rehab hospital. If they find the missing people, they’ll make sure they get care. You and Johnny and I will go into the old subway station and stop Osborn.”
“We have the anchor. If we destroy it before we go, he’ll be at a disadvantage.” Evan pointed out.
“I’ve never chosen to go up against Osborn because I didn’t have to,” Johnny said. “If we can stop him from gaining the extra power from the ritual, we should be fairly well-matched. I’m confident enough to face off with him.”
Joe and Evan exchanged glances, and Evan thought that Joe also harbored some doubts.Who am I kidding? The plan sucks. But it’s all we’ve got.
“We’ve still got to get his amulet,” Evan said. “Usually, the witch disciple keeps it on his person. It’s a necklace or a watch fob or something he never goes without. He needs both to work the spell that summons his old master, Gremory.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Joe told him.
Evan sighed. “You know that this could go wrong six ways to Sunday. It’s insane.”
“That’s what I like about it,” Joe replied. “When you’re crazy, it’s harder for people to predict what you’re going to do. March into hell for a good cause and all that.”
Evan was glad Joe walked out to the truck with him since Nelson was loitering nearby.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Joe asked as the cop approached them.
Nelson shrugged. “Got an out-of-town troublemaker frequenting a bar with known Mob ties. Seems worth keeping tabs on.”
“We’re trying to save your life,” Evan blurted, too angry and worried to filter his comments.
Nelson’s eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?”
“Didn’t you ever wonder why the oldest male of each generation dies young? Why the deaths are spread out by about twelve years? Didn’t that ever strike you as odd?” Evan was on a roll, frustrated with Nelson’s obstruction and his attitude.
“How do you—”
“Trace it back,” Evan challenged. “The oldest of each generation died or disappeared all the way back to 1900–when your ancestor was a deputy to a sheriff in Brazil, Indiana, who hanged a warlock named Rhyfel Gremory.”
“You’re crazy,” Nelson sputtered. “I ought to run you in for making veiled threats.”
Joe took a step forward. “You’ll do no such thing. He’s not threatening you—he’s trying to warn you that you’re in danger.”
“From what—a century-old serial killer?” The cop mocked, but Evan thought he saw a glint of fear in Nelson’s eyes.
Evan started to reply, but Joe laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let it go,” he advised. “He’s not going to listen.”
