There was a beat as they absorbed Louie's words, fully, like an orange towel featured on a daytime TV infomercial that could clean up red wine. Shawn and Gus exchanged glances.

"Uh, sorry. What was that?" Gus asked.

Big Louie shrugged. "I said, he was cursed!"

"Uh-huh," Shawn nodded. "And by 'cursed', do you mean the Cousin Oliver sort of way?"

"No, it was an evil curse. Someone must've placed it on him- it's the only explanation. He angered someone evil. Or something." Louie frowned, his brows furrowing at the thought.

Louie's words didn't sit well with Shawn. "Well… I wouldn't necessarily call it evil," Shawn chuckled lightly. "Oliver caused a lot of problems, sure, but it wasn't his fault he was jinxed. It's tragic, really." It was truly sad, Shawn thought, for Jan to appear lucky by comparison.

"How do you know it wasn't something else? Maybe it was a coincidence. People have heart attacks all the time. Heart disease is the leading cause of death in the US," Gus said.

"This wasn't a coincidence. I could see it in his eyes!" Louie leaned forward, his hands starting to fidget in his lap. "I don't know who cursed him, or why… But when Leonidas went to check on him, he said there was a dark presence there. And it smelled of sulfur!"

Shawn paused, as did Gus. "I'm sorry, did you say 'Leonidas'?" Gus asked with a raised brow.

"Yeah… Leonidas is our leader. Leonidas Fabri. He's a sorcerer and the founder of the group. But, anyway, as Matt died, I could smell-"

"I'm sorry," Shawn cut in, now focused on a more pressing issue. "Leonidas? Really? What, is he some kind of... Pasta brand?"

"Leonidas is Greek, not Italian," Gus said.

"Oh, and so they can't enjoy pasta?" Shawn scoffed.

"They're completely different countries!"

"Really? Since when?"

"Since the fall of the Roman Empire!"

"When did this happen?"

"You're not serious."

"Uh…" Louie muttered, his gaze shifting between them. "So… Anyway-"

"Yes," Shawn started. "Are there other leaders? Perhaps by the names Franchesco, or Alfredo?"

Gus cleared his throat, the sound exaggerated, as he gave Shawn a look. He smoothly turned to Louie, the embodiment of professionalism. "You were saying something about sulfur?"

"Yes! Matt smelled of sulfur."

"And… that means…?" Shawn asked.

"Sulfur means something demonic was around! Something evil cursed him. I don't know who or what… But that's what happened, I'm sure of it. There's a demon involved." Louie grew animated and energized as he spoke, his head bobbing up and down not unlike a buoy off the coast on a windy day.

Gus cleared this throat, loudly. "Uh, did you say a demon did it?"

Shawn could pick up easily on the hesitant, wary undertone in his friend's voice. That, and the way he kept glancing towards the door erratically.

"I think so," Louie said with a firm nod. "That's what the clues point to. Demons could be at work… Maybe he did something to anger them?"

Shawn was quick to redirect. "Didn't you say there was a cursed doll? Christine?"

Louie shook his head. "No… She wasn't behind it. Not this time. As long as you greet her when you enter the room she'll leave you alone. And she doesn't smell like sulfur- that's a demon thing. Christine is just cursed. But when you can smell sulfur, that's for sure a demon."

"Oh," Gus said, nodding his head stiffly and wearing a rigid, forced smile. "That's a relief. So it wasn't the cursed doll. That's great. Glad to hear it. I sure am glad to know it might be a demon instead."

"Come on," Shawn chuckled. He kept a careful eye on Gus, discreetly. "Just because he died suddenly, under suspicious circumstances, and stunk like rotten eggs, doesn't mean he was killed by a demon. Am I right? Louie, am I right?"

Louie shook his head. "No, I'm pretty sure it was a demon."

Shawn's smirk faded. Gus whimpered.

"Or," Shawn started again, "he spent a great deal of time around hidden California volcanoes. Possibly wearing feathers, and dancing with Miss Piggy."

"I… Don't think that's it," Louie said with a frown.

It was clear to Shawn his strategy was failing, Gus' anxiety was rising by the minute, and he had about six minutes of questioning time left before his friend made a break for the door.

"This group… What do you do again?" Shawn asked.

"Well… It's like I told you," Louie shrugged. "We're a group of people with similar interests of the unearthly realm. A place we can talk and connect that's organized, but we all share the same beliefs."

Gus frowned in thought, the gears turning in his head in a way very similar to Shawn's at that moment. They shared another look, this time with one raised eyebrow each. "Is this a cult?" Gus asked.

"Oh! No, no…" Louie chuckled seemingly at a joke, one that only he seemed to have heard. "We're not a cult! Just an interest group of like-minded people that meet regularly. With our own secure building."

"Uh-huh…" Shawn muttered doubtfully while nodding slowly. Gus did the same.

"And this… group," Gus started. "Is it exclusive?

"Do you pay dues?" Shawn asked.

"Do you wear special clothes?" Gus asked.

"Yes… Yes, and sometimes, on special occasions," Louie said.

"Right..." Shawn said, stretching and pulling out the word more than was necessary. He shared a disbelieving look with Gus. Then he discreetly lifted a hand towards his face, enough to cover mouthing the words 'It's a cult!' to Gus. Gus nodded without hesitation. They looked back at Louie.

Louie chatted on, oblivious. "Of course- we have all kinds of members. People with normal daily lives, but with an interest in the otherworldly. We've got cooks, teachers, nurses, foreign students- even car enthusiasts. Steve seems to have a different sportscar each week!"

"And… Where would this group meet?" Gus asked.

"We have our own building," Louie said. "Since it's exclusive. It houses a special collection of mystical artifacts. Those have to be protected, you understand."

"Hmm. Of course," Shawn said. "Could you tell us where we might find this building?"

Louie paused, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry… I don't think I can do that. The location itself is a secret only for members to know. I'd be breaking my Oath of the Crimson Moon if I told someone else where we met. Even someone of the psychic arts. Matt even rode with me blindfolded several times before he was allowed to walk there on his own."

"Gee. That's too bad," Gus said, disappointment absent from his tone.

"Come on, Louie! Big Louie, our good friend," Shawn started.

"I've only known you for twenty minut-"

"Our friendship doesn't need pesky things like time to build," Shawn said with a smile and chuckle as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We're bounded by the mystic arts. Or 'Artes de Mystical', as I sometimes call them. Not to be confused with its cousin, 'Cirque du Solei'." He paused in consideration. "Although personally, I prefer Blue Man Group."

"I'm not sure…" Louie said.

"We don't need to spend time together to trust one another," Shawn continued as he leaned forward with a tilt of his head, then with two fingers made the motion for 'I'm watching you' directed at Louie.

Louie stared. They waited.

"No… Sorry, I still can't give you the location," Louie said with a wince.

Shawn leaned backward and bit back a frustrated sigh, which was mirrored by Gus.

"And it's invite-only. They wouldn't even let you in if you showed up on your own," Louie said. "You'd have to be personally invited, or brought along as a guest by a ranked member."

Gus shot a silent look at Shawn, the kind that warned him not to do something stupid. Shawn saw that look, knew exactly what it meant, and immediately ignored it. "Well, then, I accept your invitation. You're very kind, Big Louie. I sense a lot of good, positive, energy ions around you."

"But I-" Louie stopped, blinking. "You do? Really?"

"Haven't I proven my skills?" Shawn asked.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't doubt you," Louie said.

"So, uh," Gus started, hesitant. "When's the next meeting?"

"Well, we meet every Tuesday night. If you come by here, we can go together."

"Yes! But," Shawn started more soberly than before. "We will need to know where to find it, first. I'd like to do an early psychic pass at it. And to scope out the nearest McDonald's, in case they bring back the McRib."

Louie looked at Shawn, a hesitant and worried frown on his face. But then he looked at them again, closer, and found a hidden joke in Shawn's words that did not exist a second before. The frown was swept away in favor of a small, amused smile, which grew to full-on laughter that rumbled deep in Louie's chest.

Gus looked at Shawn, who mirrored his own expression of confusion and eventually forced laughter. They smiled awkwardly as they laughed, all taking part in a joke they didn't understand and knew did not exist.

"You guys are funny!" Louie said as the laughter died from his lips. "But no, I can't do that."

They walked back to the car in silence and took their respective seats. Shawn could sense Gus wasn't happy with the case.

"I'm not happy with this case, Shawn," Gus said from the driver's side.

"I know exactly what you mean," Shawn said soberly. "It's very concerning."

Gus paused, quirking his brow with suspicion. "You do?"

"Of course I do- It's very alarming. If the meeting is on Tuesday night, then what about Taco Tuesday? The whole thing's in jeopardy, man!"

"I meant, this guy getting cursed by a demon." Outwardly, Gus remained serious and unamused, but secretly agreed with Shawn and had grown concerned about their upcoming fiesta of food, and the effect it would have on his taste buds.

"Come on, Gus! It's just a bunch of crazy talk-"

"Shawn, we're dealing with curses and demon magic. I am not getting involved in that. Not without some serious protection."

"Except none of that is real!" Shawn said, exasperated. "Look- There's nothing supernatural about any of this, alright? So what if Louie and the victim were part of a cult of people who like magic," he said. "So what if the murder took place under suspicious circumstances at said cult. But whoever did this isn't using magic. Whoever it was, they tried to dump him at the docks. There's nothing supernatural about that. That's just poor planning on the murderer's part. And a sign of questionable boating standards."

"Speaking of suspicious- How do we know we can trust Big Louie? His living room was full of taxidermied heads!"

Shawn thought of the fear and uncertainty the man had shown, and the way he latched onto them out of desperation. He saw it as the crazy sort of crazy, not the scary crazy Gobin King kind. "Louie seems pretty harmless to me. You saw how scared he was," Shawn said. "That guy's not magical, he had a replica prop from the Goonies mixed in with his mummified creatures collection. And besides, he gave us a location for the murder."

"He gave us a location. We still don't actually know where the murder took place."

"So we need to do some digging, first. I'm sure we'll be able to find it before Tuesday. We'll scope the place out, find out what we need, then do a reveal for Jules and Lassie." Shawn waved a hand near his temple for a moment. "Now, will you stop being so superstitious?"

"Call me what you want, but this case is not normal. What if the demons tried to get rid of the body after they killed him?"

"Gus, if it was a curse or a demon, wouldn't they have a better way of getting rid of the body? They were dragging it to some dingy boat in the middle of the night, not setting it on fire on an altar somewhere."

Gus shook his head with a resolute grip on the steering wheel. "This isn't some guy in Santa Barbara out for revenge. We're talking demons. And I'm not going in there without some kind of backup. And no, a fake psychic does not count," Gus said with finality as he started the car, put it into drive, and drove them away from the house and the many taxidermied heads it contained.