“Well, I reckon you are, Churchie. Especially when you told me there are witches on the island who attack people with swarms of insects.”

Sees demons. Attacking insects. Interesting. Jack hoped this wasn’t heading in a direction he dreaded.

“Just getting you used to the island folk, Wal. The insects and witches thing—one of the locals had that idea.”

Jack had a sudden urge to find some insect repellent but fought it off. “You blokes did good last night, saving that girl,” Jack said. “But can I ask why you were there? You weren’t participants?”

“It was his fault,” Christopher pointed to Wally. “He was gripped by the tourist bug and wanted to do something exciting. Like an animal let loose from his cage.” Wally gave Christopher a soft punch to his bicep.

“Not really Wal’s fault,” Christopher said. “I encouraged him. I had a feeling that something might be going on, as I’d found a symbol painted on a path in the parklands when I was out on one of my walks.”

“Symbol?”

“Found out it’s a pentagram. Used by witches and the like. So the chances were high that there’d be a ritual at the park over the weekend. As it turned out, we were right.”

“What did you see?” Jack asked.

“Well, they go around in circles and there was a hooded person . . . well, they were all hooded but this person had an air of authority about them. Like they were their leader. Then, after a while they proposed a toast and lifted their glasses to the sky and drank from their glasses. Hate to think what was in those glasses,” Wally said.

Jack sensed some reservation from Christopher.

“Then the black sheet went up—couldn’t see much then. Then they departed. They looked like zombies.”

“Scary stuff,” Jack said.

“It was and it was evil. I sensed it,” Christopher said.

“He probably saw demons everywhere.”

Jack wasn’t sure where to go from here, but he asked anyway. “Did you see lots of demons, Christopher?”

Christopher nodded.

Jack didn’t like where this was heading—it felt as though he’d taken a big step into the unknown. The occult worried him. He knew there were powers out there, things unseen, but preferred not to think too much about them. 

“I’ve heard stories from meth addicts, Christopher. So I won’t think you’re crazy or anything. They’d seen things. Like their eyes had been opened to another realm.”

“Yes, I’ve seen what they see,” Christopher said

“Shadowy and cloaked figures?” Jack asked.

“Yes, they’re demons. They become clear to the drug addict as they get closer to the evil world. They are not always cloaked, though.”

“And they’re attracted to witch rituals?” Jack asked.

“Very much so. That’s why the girl was buried. She would have been offered up to some demon god as some kind of sacrifice.”

“How did you know the girl was buried?” Jack asked.

“An angel told me.”

Jack looked at Wally, whose eyebrows were raised and head tilted as if to say, ‘I told you so’.

“You can’t argue with that, detective. She was buried there.” Wally said.

He was right.

“And detective, I probably know who the person in the middle was,” Christopher said.

“Who?” Jack asked. And how did he know?

“Don’t know her name, but I saw her get off the ferry.”

“But she was hooded during the ritual, wasn’t she?”

“She was, but evil people normally have a dominating demon close by. The demons travel with them. I saw a demon when the people disembarked from the ferry. This one stood out in the crowd—large and green and vile. That same demon was at the ritual, probably attached to the same person. This demon was hunched next to the hooded person in the centre of the circle, the leader.”

Jack imagined a large frog, the size of a man, smirking at him. Jack shook his head and the image dissolved. So Jack had a lead on the hooded woman, but invisible evidence wouldn’t stand up in court. Not unless he could get the demon to reveal itself to the jury—like that would ever happen. 

Jack didn’t know what to think. He needed to sit down and have a coffee with Catherine. Maybe she could bring him back to the land of reality, of things that can be seen.

16 – The fog is lifting

RUBY COULD SEE WATER GLISTENING through the gaps in the trees and shrubs surrounding the island from her seat in the police car. Although her eyes felt heavy, she wanted to keep them open, wanted to avoid darkness for as long as she could. It was a challenge, with warm sunlight surrounding her, the glistening water, a comfortable leather seat. But she knew the trip would be short—every trip was short on this island. She read that you could walk the width of the island in forty minutes, and the length didn’t take much longer.

She’d never been in a police vehicle before and found it curious how people stared at the vehicle as it went by, wondering what crime she’d committed. Ruby wanted to wind down the window and shout out that she was a victim, not a perpetrator. One man even took a picture using his phone. Was that not an invasion of privacy?

“Are there any laws for taking photos? A man just took a photo as we drove past.”

Catherine turned back to look at the man. “There are no laws to stop someone taking your photo in a public place. It could well be someone who’s really into cars or authority. You’d be surprised the number of people who want to have their photos taken with a police officer.” 

“Yep, we get lots of requests for photos, Ruby,” Sergeant Phil said, as he turned on an indicator and headed down a dirt road.

Must be a shortcut.

They drove past an old abandoned cottage hidden amongst a group of trees. Ruby pictured a black cat and broomstick on the front porch, with a woman inside wearing a long-pointed hat and bent over a pot, stirring. Was she trying to amuse herself with such thoughts? Besides, she’d read somewhere that the broomstick was used to sweep away negative energy. She needed a broomstick.

Or maybe she needed to stop thinking about such garbage. 

“Your friends, Ruby. Have you known them a long time?” Catherine turned and asked from the front seat. She had such a lovely caring smile.

“Work friends. Been working with them for over a year, and I’m currently sharing a place with Zoe.”

“Close friends?”

“Good question.”

Ruby had been thinking about this a lot lately. Were work friends real friends? Since working, she hadn’t much time to meet new friends.