Another chapter! Yay! This one may seem a little slow, but it's setting up for some bigger stuff, I promise.

This chapter also contains the first look at the character created by GiraffePanda2; Dani Rider! It's about time, isn't it? :)

In the last chapter, and several times before, I was asked about the spells I put in here. The majority of them I make up myself and translate into Latin or other languages. Some I get from the show itself. I'm not saying I'm some sort of sorceresses (I wish), I translated some of the spells from the show, and made up my own based on them.

I also wanna say that Peshtigo, Wisconsin is a very real place. I live around there, and am using mostly real facts about the town, and some facts about my own town and places around it. So, if any of you are familiar with the history of northern Wisconsin and Michigan's Upper Peninsula, I guess I just wanted you to know that I know not all of these facts are 100% genuine; I'm changing details so they make sense in my story. I also think Peshtigo has a pretty interesting history too.

The spell Nikki used to bring the brothers together (the ghost ones), translated into English, is under this. My thought with this one was that it was meant to end blood-feuds, fighting families, ect ect...If you guys want, I can start putting the translations for spells at the ends of chapters.

Blood-brother, forever bound, beyond the barrier of death. Betrayed and broken, lost and wandering, bring the spirit of the ever-bound, bonds stronger than the common man. Holy Father, the lives of these feuding brothers mean no less than the lives of your Holy soldiers. Bless this spell, and give me the strength to carry out the necessary actions to bring these forever-bound souls together beyond the doors to your kingdom and save their souls for the fires of damnation!

Enjoy the chapter!

~Christianne

Nikki POV

I was impatiently tapping my nails on one of the white stripes along my car as I sat on the hood. I was leaning against the windshield, my legs stretched out in front of me as I stared up at the blue sky. I hadn't looked up at the sky for clouds since I was 13, but I'd been doing it for hours now.

"Sorry I'm late."

I frowned, still looking at the sky.

"Are you mad at me?"

I stopped tapping.

"Look, I'm really sorry, ok?"

I slowly sat up and looked up at the blond demon standing in front of my car.

"Want to make it up to you?" Zack offered, raising his eyebrows and batting his thick eyelashes.

I shrugged, looking away. I swung my legs off the hood and stood on the gravel road.

"What do you want? Diamonds? Money? Maybe a new wardrobe?" Zack offered, smirking slightly.

I pulled the handle of the driver's side door and gave him a blank look, eyebrows raised slightly in a 'Really?' manner.

Zack groaned and rolled his meat suit's blue eyes. "Look, do you want the coordinates or not?"

My eyebrows fell back down, and I sighed, holding out my hand.

Seemingly from nowhere, Zack pulled a small, stiff, folded ivory paper. I grabbed it and opened it up quickly. "It's a small town in-Hey!"

I wasn't really listening to the demon, I was already in my car when I protested my movements. I almost ran him over; not that I cared very much. I'd called him a few days before for the case he'd brought to me back in Massachusetts, and his incredibly rude behavior earned him a nice long silent treatment.

I glanced in my rearview mirror; Zack was giving me the finger. I looked at the paper on my dash, the coordinates written in fancy calligraphy in the middle.

Peshtigo. They let to Peshtigo.

They led home.

There were demons at home.

It'd been more than a year since Olivia and Greg died, and that was the last time I'd been home.

I drove slower through Main Street, looking at the shops and sidewalk vendors. I swung around Lake Shore Drive, looking at all the beautiful houses. Some of them were over 150 years old, the newer ones, the ones that replaced the ones destroyed in the fire, looked out of place.

I slowed to a stop in front of a familiar driveway, and leaned back in my seat.

They'd bulldozed the charred remains of the only real home I ever had, and the new, modern house was just about done. I didn't like it; too many sharp angles, too much glass, not enough yard left, the metal and glass swallowed it up.

Before I started to cry, I drove away at about three times the speed limit.

The coordinates Zack gave me were for the high school. My high school; Gilded Cross Catholic Secondary School.

It was a massive, dark stone building with two large towers over the main entrance. It reminded me a little bit of Hogwarts. Ironic; me being a witch and all, who went to a Catholic school that looked like Hogwarts.

I parked in the side lot and jammed my hands in my pockets as I walked towards the doors. It was 11:45 on a Tuesday, but on one was here. My senior year was the last year Gilded Cross had its doors open for students; they'd been building a new school just outside the city. The original building was now only used for summer schooling, its theater and gym, and for activities in the community. It would have been bulldozed years ago if it hadn't been a long standing symbol of the community. There had been talk about turning it into a regional museum last time I spent time here. Greg had been on the city board, and was pushing for the museum.

I pushed the doors open, and let them close behind me. The overhead lights were off, but the massive windows filled the hallways with light. My Converse slapped on the stone floor as I walked through the main hallway, lined with yellow lockers. I was a little disgusted at the color; they'd repainted them when the school left. They used to be a bright blue when I went here five years ago.

I spun on a heel, walking backwards as I looked up at the massive arch in the middle of the hallway, separating the lockers from the classrooms.

'Cinere, sicut transit.'

'From the ashes, we rise as one' in Latin, etched into the arch. The original Gilded Cross Catholic Secondary School had been destroyed in the fire in 1871. This building was formerly the hospital, but converted to the school in the early 1880s.

I heard voices from behind two wide, heavy doors to the gym. I checked the clip in my gun, and readied my hand on the grip, keeping it in my waistband as I pushed open the door. The moment it was three quarters of the way open, I froze, quickly pulling my jacket over my gun.

"Oh my God-Nikki?" The strawberry blonde woman, currently standing in front of 15 or so people at tables.

I just blinked, then winced as the storta-kinda-redhead quickly skipped towards me; how she did that in six inch heels and tight jeans was beyond me. When I was in her reach, she clawed at my arm with a manicured hand, grabbed my upper arm and yanked me towards her. I was stone as she squeezed me tight and squealed loudly in my ear.

"Hey…Melissa..." I said eventually, hoping she'd let me go.

"Oh I'm so glad you're here! I was worried you didn't get my email!" Melissa squealed, dragging me towards the tables.

"You sent an email?" I asked. She didn't hear me.

"We're planning a bit of a party, you know? They're tearing down our beloved school, and since we were the last class to graduate, we get an early reunion!"

"…Great…" I forced out, before I was thrown into a chair in front. Melissa went back to the front and kept talking.

I peeked over my shoulder, and saw that everyone was in fact in my class, and they all looked a lot better dressed than I was. I turned back to Melissa, glared at her, and slouched in my seat.

"Thank you God!" I said once I got outside. Melissa talked for three hours, and I was bored out of my mind the whole time.

I breathed in the fresh air, and slouched against the side of my car.

I was here to look into a demonic presence here, not talk about streamers and chocolate fountains (but a chocolate fountain did sound kinda awesome). As I sat in my car in the parking lot, a thought occurred to me.

I can't do the investigating here. I can't pretend to be a cop. I can't check out the archives. I can't to anything out of the ordinary. I stick out enough as it is, being the orphan Greg and Olivia—prominent people in the community—took in. I was the screw up, Yale drop-out in the good family.

I hit my head on the steering wheel a few times before I left the parking lot.

One thing I missed while at college, and when I was...not at college, was the pasty—not to be confused with pasties; what covered little tiny parts of strippers.

Pronounced paa-stee, the delectable little pies were made from ground meat, potatoes, and sometimes rutabagas, all wrapped up in dough and baked at 375 for forty to fifty minutes.

I was sitting on the hood of my car (my new favorite spot) with a pasty wrapped up in wax paper in one hand, and a newspaper in the other. Out-of-towners ate them with a fork and knife, but people who grew up on them ate them like sandwiches.

I figured I'd catch up on everything that happened in Peshtigo in the last three months before even thinking about investigating like I usually did. I went to a coffee shop I knew never threw away newspapers that weren't six months old, stole a few, and parked in the lot of 'Gram's'; best place for a pasty from here to Green Bay.

"Nikki?"

I looked up when I heard my name; pasty crust hanging out of my mouth.

"Nikki Blake?"

I spun around and grinned as I saw a young woman with short brown hair under a gray knit beanie. She was dressed in hospital scrubs, an orange, gray and pink stripped zip-up sweatshirt, bright green Crocs, had a bag slung over her shoulder, and had a pair of black-frames glasses on her face.

"Dani!" I said loudly. I dropped the pasty on a newspaper and ran towards my friend. I practically attacked her in a hug, wrapping my arms tightly around her. "Oh my God! It's so good to see you!"

"You too! What are you doing here? Aren't exams going on at Yale?" Dani asked once I let her go.

I looked at the ground and laughed once, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, yeah they probably are…" I trailed off.

Dani Rider was my best friend all through middle and high school. She'd been in foster care when her father was deployed (Navy), and her aunt became a bit of a meth head. It was only supposed to be for a few months, until her father's tour was done, but she ended up being shuffled around relatives' houses until she was 18. Last I heard, she left med school just before her final exams. Going by the scrubs, she was probably a nurse now.

"So why aren't you—" Dani cut herself off, glanced at the digital watch on her wrist, then back at me. "I start a shift at the hospital in twenty minutes. Tell me everything that's happened in the last year."

"Hey." I said, answering my phone half asleep.

"Hey Nik." Sam said. Despite my tone, I was happy to hear from him. I'd left them a few messages. "What's up?"

"Well…Uh…Are you guys busy?" I asked dumbly.

Sam snorted. "What'd'ya need?" He asked.

"…You remember my hometown?" I asked, unsure of how to explain the situation; I wanted to leave Zack out of it. "There's, well, I-I know something's going on here…I can't really do much poking around, 'cause everyone knows me…"

"We'll wrap up what we're doing here," Sam said assumingly. "Hang tight till we get there."

"Thanks." I sighed, relieved.

"No problem." Sam said before he hung up.

I smiled a little, and let my phone drop onto the scratchy cover of my motel bed as I sat up. I'd gotten a few hours of sleep; that'd keep me for a couple of days.

I had graves to visit.