A/N: Interesting to see the reactions over the last couple chapters! I appreciate all feedback I receive; good, bad, frustrated, or otherwise - so thank you, everyone.

Apologies for not updating as frequently as I have promised or as frequently as I'd even like. This year is mental for me. I've started freelance work in two separate fields, I'm in the middle of grad school and dealing with everyday life. I wish I had more time to dedicate to my writing :( It's still my outlet whenever I get a quiet moment, so I'm quietly chipping away at my stories. I still haven't finished writing this one (I think I'm in the middle of Chapter 35) but it's nearly done. Bittersweet. And there won't be a sequel.

Chapter 21: God Walks the Dark Hills

The next few days passed in a subdued blur. As much as I was comfortable in confiding with Amelia about my boy troubles, I decided to keep my lips zipped regarding my family. My maybe-new family. There would be DNA testing to come, that was for darn sure. Either way, it felt wrong to talk about it. It seemed too real if I had to say it out loud. I hadn't told Jason when we caught up on the phone, either. I didn't know what to do with the revelation Niall had heaped upon my lap and I found myself often thinking of Gran and trying to mesh my memory of her with the woman Niall had described.

I missed Eric. I wanted badly to share this with him. To unload the burden I was carrying, but of course, some of that burden was hurt he had caused himself. Or rather, burden I had caused by freaking out and pushing him away. My mind was a conflicted mess.

Having said all that, Christmas was an unexpected joy. We collected Glenda before lunch in Amelia's little car since it was easier to get in and out of. Glenda seemed to be walking more easily and not leaning into her stick as much as I'd seen her previously. She was quiet and pensive at first, but Amelia used her double combo to win her over like she did me: upbeat attitude and crazy Christmas obsession. Glenda didn't ask about Jade's investigation and neither of us touched on the topic of people we could have been spending Christmas with in an alternate life; a life where people didn't have their lives cut short by unexpected death. The food was a combined effort from both Amelia and me and it was satisfying and cheerful to share it all together; the three of us surrounding her small dining table, a large Christmas wreath and candle in the center.

Glenda embraced me when I walked her back to her room at the home and thanked me for the nice meal. We smiled at each other, affected by the Christmas cheer and from the afternoon spent together. I felt like I'd made a new friend. Maybe not a close one, maybe not one I'd see much of again, but a friend with whom I was able to share what might've been a lonely day otherwise.

I made a point to walk straight out of Golden Oaks and not go looking for Dot. I had no cause to tempt fate. As much as the rest of my life was a mess, at least I wasn't worried about being chased down by the undead.

When I got back to the condo, I found Amelia at the stove making a small batch of eggnog. We'd refrained from drinking all day since Glenda couldn't drink on her meds. So we sat on her shag pile rug, leaning against the couch and put on Miracle on 34th Street. The eggnog was unreal, tasting just like melted ice-cream with the pleasant after-burn of bourbon. Just enough alcohol to bring on an enjoyable buzz from the first mug.

Bonnie laid her head on my lap, still exhausted from the long jog I took her on that morning through a frosty trail in the woods that bordered the edge of town. I scratched her head idly, feeling completely at ease for the first time all week.

"I've had a thought," Amelia said, holding out the remote to mute the movie. Her cheeks had turned a ruddy red color from the booze, her eyes shining in a merry way. "Well, more like a few thoughts culminating into a theory."

"Okay. About what?"

"I think Eurynome or Eurynomos, or whatever you want to call him, doesn't want to hurt you or kill you."

"You think he's interested in being friends or maybe, what? Looking for a hookup?" I giggled and scrunched up my nose. I reached across her to grab the remote, but she snatched it from reach, looking serious.

"You told us the morning we did the banishments that the old seer lady said death follows you and you follow death. Well… What if, it's because you are the mortal link between death and the living world? It sought you out because it knew it could communicate with you. You're like a figurative bridge between life at death."

I frowned. I didn't like the idea of that.

"Your career choice involves deaths and estates," Amelia said counting it on her finger. "You're even working on the investigations for those missing girls. I know you've… well, you've experienced a lot of loss in your life."

"Are you saying that people died because of me? My husband died because of me? Because of some freaky connection with death?" I sat up straight, gently pushing Bonnie's head from my lap.

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Well it sure sounds like it."

"No, please don't take offense, that's not the point I'm trying to make. Of course, you don't influence death or cause anything like that. I'm just showing how you have an established experience, and yes, maybe a connection with death. Obviously, no one wants that, but it's hard to deny looking at at your life."

"I can't believe we're talkin' about this right now. I just want to get my Christmas groove on. And, what you're saying is highly offensive, FYI." I made a weak attempt to lunge for the remote but Amelia moved it further from reach.

"Just humor me for sec, will you?"

"Alright…" I sighed in a noisy and put-upon way, staring across at the TV where little Susan was on screen chatting to Santa. "Let's say it's following me because I am this bridge. Then why has it taken this long in my life for crazy shit to start invading it?"

"Because nothing of this nature has had a reason to before now. Eurynomos is trying to communicate with you. Now."

"What?" I scoffed. "And say what?"

Amelia pulled out her phone and opened the picture gallery, flipping through the images quickly. She leaned over and showed me one on her screen.

"I took a picture of its listing in Octavia's grimoire." She zoomed in on the page. "Read through the description again. The script is old but not that hard to make out. Tell me what you think, maybe you'll have the same conclusion as me."

I took the phone from her hand and looked over the page. I tried my hardest to ignore the sneering hand-drawn illustration of the beast.

Eurynomos.
Keeper of the damn'd. Dark Prince of high decree.
Eurynome and Babael, keeper of the graves, Lord of the Flies,
it travails the realm by many names.
This curs'd beast walketh the realm, feeding on flesh of the dead.
't speaketh not, lest 't miss a vile mouthful.
In dark stead, 't guards those long depart'd.
Peasants whisper of a second mouth, 't consumes more flesh,
greedy and vexatious tis driven by arrant gluttony.

I read it once. Read it through again. My mind churned over the words, and my unfocused gaze moved from the phone to the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. I knew what conclusion Amelia had come to, yet it seemed too farfetched to entertain.

"Well?" Amelia breathed, practically bouncing with excitement. "If it was trying to communicate to you, a conduit between the living and dead, what do you think it's trying to tell you?"

Leading a horse to water, Amelia was trying to make me take a sip. Walking me right to a precipice, coaxing me to step off; to step off to a place where the inconceivable met the unsolvable.

"It can't speak, but it's been trying to get my attention. To tell me something." I swallowed, forcing myself to continue. "But it can't physically tell me, so it wants to show me...?"

"Yes! It hangs around not because it wants to eat you or kill you. That's not its M.O. It feeds only on what's already dead."

Really? I wasn't so sure about that. That day it grabbed my ankle sure felt like it was trying to kill me, or hurt me. But then again… didn't Dot say it wanted to use me?

"It's the keeper of the graves," I said, the words feeling thick and hard for my mouth to get around.

"So…?"

"So it wants to show me a grave - or graves."

"The girls," Amelia whispered, the flashing Christmas lights forming a red and golden halo around her wavy bob. Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea. Was that it? Was that what it was trying to do? Was it the key to solving this awful mystery?

"What? Why me? Why does it even care?"

Amelia shrugged taking a sip of her drink. "I dunno. Demon with a conscience?"

"Okay, well that's stupid."

"Maybe. Or maybe it's beyond us to question the motivations of death."

We stared at one another for the longest time, my brain churning Amelia's theory over and over until I began feeling sick and dizzy.

"What should I do? Should I approach it?"

"Hell no!" Amelia exclaimed. "I'll contact Gwen, she's my coven leader back home - the one I told you about. Maybe she'll know of some way to communicate with it."

"'Maybe' doesn't sound very hopeful to me. What if approaching it is the only way?"

"We'll cross that bridge if it comes to that."

I tossed and turned all night. There was no proof to back up Amelia's theory. It was conjecture. A best guess. She was connecting together pieces of what could be two entirely different puzzles. But still… It made sense. A solid feeling from deep inside my gut told me there was truth to her idea. A deep bolt of intuition that ran through the core of me and wouldn't let me relax or let the idea go.

I should have connected the missing girls to the demon myself. I'd been too self-absorbed, too sure it was only focused on me that I'd overlooked the bigger picture. I'd only gone as far as to wonder if the demon had caused their disappearances, but I hadn't had the sense to realize that maybe the demon was there because of the disappearances. I saw their faces in my mind's eye. The smiling pictures of the girls we'd printed at the station and stuck on the conference room walls. Their smiles were burned into my retinas.

I sighed, rolling over in bed for the umpteenth time. I reached to my nightstand and picked up my phone. I stared the screen, thumbs hovering, poised and ready. Time passed, too much time maybe, before I finally began typing.

S: Are you awake?

I wanted to hear to his voice. His throaty chuckle. I wanted to tell him I missed him. I wanted him next to me now. I wanted him. Eventually, I drifted off into a light sleep still waiting for a reply. No surprises there, Eric slept like the dead.

The dim, pale blue of pre-dawn found me on my side in bed, staring at the digital alarm clock. I listened as Amelia moved quietly through the condo, showering, dressing and preparing her breakfast. She was working that day. The resort ski facilities would be back in full swing after a single day of rest for Christmas. I waited until I heard her shut the front door behind her and I cast off my blankets.

I swung my feet out of bed and showered, taking care to shave my legs until they were buttery smooth and then shampoo my hair a second time. I dressed and ate breakfast, feeding Bonnie at the same time. I stood at the sink, staring unfocused out the small kitchen window as I washed my mug and plate. I was moving methodically. Mechanically. My mind was elsewhere.

I packed my things for the day and scrawled a note for Amelia, leaving it propped against the fruit bowl. The sun was steadily rising, casting beams of light over the mountain range surrounding Chester. I drove straight through Chester and through the town of Douglas then onward up the winding road towards my cabin. I was sure Bonnie, from her seat in the back, knew exactly where we were going, her tail steadily thumping like a bass drum urging me on.

There had been more snow since I'd last visited, the driveway thick and covered. It would be a pain in the ass to shovel, but I could leave it for now at least. Maybe in the New Year, I'd hire the local guy to come up with his plow. The New Year. It was close. A whole new year of days and decisions to contend with. Decisions like… If my otherworldly visitor was planning on sticking around indefinitely, would I be game enough to continue living here on my own? I'd felt so certain I would never leave the cabin. But Eric had softened my resolve. Or maybe manipulated was the right term.

I wasn't sure where we stood now, but I couldn't rely on him to stay with me forever. After his reveal and the hissy fit I pitched there might not even be a 'him and me' to think about. I might have tanked it prematurely. And even if there was an 'us', he'd be back to NYC once his book was done and dusted. I needed to rely on myself. At the end of the day, it was just me. It was always just me. Hadn't life taught me that, time and time again? I think that's what God had always intended. And I would make the best of that.

Bonnie lifted her nose as we pulled up out front. Okay, maybe I wasn't exactly alone, I mused with a smile, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

I let myself into my cabin through the front door. The aroma of fresh paint and renovation was now nearly imperceptible and the house was beginning to smell musty with disuse. It was the smell of nostalgia. As a child, I would breathe in great lungfuls of it – the fragrance that marked our arrival and the start of a new vacation season at the cabin. Gran would complain about it, opening the windows wide and leaving the doors open, trying to chase it away. I understood why now. It was a stale, stagnant smell. One devoid of life.

I dressed quickly upstairs. Long johns, light water-resistant hiking pants, two pairs of woolen socks, two long sleeve shirts and t-shirt. Gran's gold crucifix pendant, on a golden chain that went around my neck. I figured I'd want my faith and Gran, the pure epitome of strength, with me. Lastly, I zipped up my favorite cranberry colored soft-shell jacket. Thin layers were the trick to hiking in the snow. If you got too warm you could take off just enough to keep at a comfortable temperature without risking getting cold.

I filled my backpack with supplies. A small first aid kit, trail mix, a gallon of water, a thermos of tea, apples, enough for two decent meals on the go, extra dry clothes, a warm scarf, my balaclava, and finally Bonnie's lead. As a last thought, I included a small tub of Vaseline in case I needed to coat Bonnie's paws as a protective barrier from the cold. She was a dog bred from and for snowy and cold conditions, but I wanted to be prepared. I didn't know how far I'd go. I tied two wide snow-shoes to my pack and hoisted it on my back. Good, not too heavy.

With the Benelli on its strap over my shoulder and a soft prayer on my lips, Bonnie and I exited through the living room sliding door onto the deck. I shut it behind me but left it unlocked, that way I wouldn't need to fumble with keys if I was in a hurry to get back in.

Lord help me, please don't let that be an idea I'd have to put to good use.

Bonnie was thrilled to be back on home turf, sprinting around outside excitedly, her nose low to the ground taking in all the new scents that had arrived with extra snow and a few days absence.

I walked to the stone placed at the northern cardinal point. It was right on the boundary of where salt had been sprinkled. The wind was whipping loose tendrils from my braid, strong gusts of icy chill wailing through the pines. Mother Nature's organ putting on a performance. My neck prickled. I swung the rifle strap around my shoulder so I held the butt in one hand and the barrel in the other. A reassuring heaviness.

"Alright!" I shouted, my voice carrying in the wind. "I know you're out there somewhere! I'm here, and I invite you onto my property. Show yourself! Show me what it is you've been trying to tell me!"

There was no response, save a distant squawk of birds somewhere in the distance. Ravens or crows, maybe. I turned my focus to my breathing, trying to calm myself, trying to be patient. This preparation could all be for nothing. Maybe Amelia was wrong.

The distinctive clicking of Bonnie's paws on glass sounded from behind me and I turned. She was back at the sliding door, pawing to get back inside, her tail hanging low. She let out a small whine.

I jogged up to the deck and crouched in front of her.

"You really gonna be a fraidy cat, Bon Bon?" She didn't answer. This was the dog who cowered when other dogs a third of her size would bark in her general direction. I could hardly blame her for not wanting to stick around.

I slid the door open and she zipped indoors. I flicked on the electric heating, refilling her food and water bowl. I grabbed some of my older towels from the linen closet and laid them flat on the floor in the kitchen, hoping she'd choose to use that rather than soiling one of the area rugs. I was praying I wouldn't be gone long enough for it to even be an issue.

I shut the sliding door quietly behind me, Bonnie happily settling herself down beside the panel heater on the living room wall. As I stepped back outside I was assailed by the awful and familiar smell of rot. I bit back a gag, moving to the center of my yard. The breeze whipped around me, bringing no relief from the stink. It was everywhere.

"Where are you?" I shouted. My heart hammered. This was a batshit crazy idea. I was batshit crazy! But didn't I always opt to rip off the band-aid, rather than drag my heels and wait? I stared into the trees willing something to emerge. But there was nothing. Shrubs, trees, snow. This was one hell of a band-aid, but if it knew where one of the girls were, or even all of them…

And better to do this on my own. It only ever approached when I was alone. It needed me. No one else. Not me and a party of others to protect me. It was just me. I had to do this on my own. Death had followed me, and now it was my turn to follow death.

There was no response to my yell, just the whistle and creak of the old pines against the wind and the squawk of ravens flying somewhere above the woods. From my higher vantage on the sloping hill, I could see the birds. They were a mile or so deep into the forest, three of them, circling above the treetops. I watched them quietly. It was a sure sign something was near to dying, or a carcass was being picked over by other critters. It was something Grandpa taught Jason and me when we were out hunting. Well, if something dead or dying wasn't a sign then I sure as heck didn't know what was.

I adjusted my pack on my shoulders and walked towards the birds, rifle gripped tightly in my hands. It was now or never. I had a million reservations. A million doubts. I shoved them all into a tiny box deep inside my mind, focusing only what I knew I should do.

Dot's words, so terrifying at the time, were my mantra – the words I used to force my feet forward. The keeper of the graves had latched onto me and he wouldn't let go until I've done what he needs. There was no way around it. Destiny, she'd said. Destiny.

Once I breached the tree line the smell only got worse. It was thick and cloying, like walking into a cloud of rotten perfume in a department store's cosmetic department. I mumbled another prayer under my breath and thumbed the gold crucifix from under my collar.

The snow was proving easier to walk on that I expected. It had been a cold night, the white groundcover hard and crunchy underfoot. Good for hiking. Great for slipping. I hummed an old gospel tune under my breath as I made my way carefully through the pines, drawing closer to where I could still hear the ravens calling. I was suddenly feeling more Christian than I ever had in recent years.

"And he walks in the cold dark night, the shadows of midnight," I sang, my voice a breathy whisper over my labored breathing. "God walks the dark hills to guide you and me…"

The song died on my lips as I rounded an enormous Douglas pine. My breath caught, snagging as my throat constricted. My feet stuck still to the frozen ground. There it was.

The beast of nightmares.