Cold Hollow was eerie at night. It was rare to see anyone on the streets after dark and the street lights were few and far between, especially off of the main roads. I parked in front of McClinton’s Meat Market and held my gun in my lap. It was heavy and cold and I checked it at least three times to be sure that it was loaded and ready. Without a holster, I wasn’t really sure how I would conceal it, so I just stuffed it in my waistband againand hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

Valentine Drive was silent except for the wind and the sound of my feet crunching gravel against the pavement. I walked up to the dark storefront and peered through the dirty glass between the chipped and fading red words, McClinton’s Meat Market. I couldn’t help but think that the paint looked like dried blood.

What if Senator McClinton really was behind all this? I thought. It had sounded like a paranoid conspiracy theory when I first arrived in Cold Hollow, but standing there in the moonlight outside the empty butcher’s shop, I realized that I was up against powers I didn’t fully understand.

The store was dark inside, but the door was unlocked so I let myself in, accidentally announcing my presence with the clanging of the bell above the door.

“Lilly?” I called out.

There hadn’t been any other cars in the parking lot, so I assumed she wasn’t there yet

  It smelled coppery and stagnant. The glass case at the front was empty, its lights off, with nothing to peruse or sell. I had driven by this place more than a few times during my time in Cold Hollow, but I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone go in or come out.

I stepped behind the counter. A couple of old buckets stained with blood – pig’s blood, I assumed – sat idly by a large walk-in freezer where light leaked out from under the freezer’s door. I pulled on the huge metal handle and the door made a shushing sound as it slid open.

Flanks of meat hung on several hooks from the ceiling and the fluorescent light covered everything in a blue green glow. The sight of the hanging meat wasn’t as disturbing as the thick pungent smell it all seemed to give off. I held my breath and walked toward the back of the freezer room, peering into the darkness in search of another door.

Lilly wasn’t anywhere to be found, but why had the door been open?

I slipped my hands under my shirt and absent-mindedly fingered the cold, comforting metal of the gun. I had the strange sensation that I was being watched or that there was another presence in the market with me.

Pushing past another few rows of meat, I reached the back of the freezer. There, on the floor, I noticed a square steel plate with a thick curved piece of metal welded to it. It was a door leading into the basement, mostly concealed by a stack of empty boxes.

Much like I had felt when Millicent offered me her tea meant to help me gain clarity, I saw myself at a crossroads. Something told me that opening the door to the basement would propel me even further down the proverbial rabbit hole. I could continue forward, into the darkness, or I could turn back. I could simply walk out to my car and drive away and forget all of this. I could leave Cold Hollow and its mysteries behind, or I could do what I came to do and press on until I found the truth. After all, now I had a witness, and she was the Senator’s daughter no less.

I hesitated a moment, then bent down and gripped the handle, pulling hard for several seconds, feeling the cold surface of the metal warming beneath my hands. I continued to pull until, finally, the door creaked open. Pitch darkness met me as I peered into the abyss of the basement, but the dim light of the freezer illuminated a stone staircase leading down.  

“Lilly...?” I called out again, then took my first cautious step down.

The air was cooler and moist down below the shop. Without a railing along the stone steps, I reached out a hand to steady myself and leaned into the interior wall to feel my way along. As I neared the end of the stairs, the wall felt strange beneath my fingertips, as if it had been carved or etched with designs.

Finally my feet reached the uneven cement floor below and I pulled away from the wall. From there I could see a line of five or six lit candles placed just outside a stone archway further into the cavernous old basement. Someone was with me. I knew that much.But who? Surely, Lilly wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. Then again, nothing had gone as I had expected since I arrived in Cold Hollow. Why should this be any different? Maybe Lilly wanted me to see something for myself.

The light ahead gave off a soft orange glow, but everything was still. My heart was racing in my chest, banging like a war drum, thick and heady. I tightened my hand around the butt of the gun and walked slowly towards the candles. They sat on a small ledge along the wall casting a faint light around the room so that I could finally see what caused the walls to feel so strange beneath my fingers. They were carved, I realized, with designs – symbols and words I didn’t recognize from any language I had ever seen that made something inside me feel uneasy.

My body trembled. I still felt the chill from the freezer above and could hardly keep my teeth from chattering together as I pressed forward in the dark of the basement, through the candlelit archway. I realized very quickly that the next room was far more cavernous than any basement I had ever seen. It clearly extended beyond just the footprint of the meat market. The floor was mostly dirt, with protruding patches of cobblestone snaking through the passageway and narrowing as it veered into other tunnels. I followed along the widest part of the path where I discovered more candles to light my way. Someone was waiting for me, guiding me towards this final place of truth. Lilly was making good on her promise, I told myself. She was going to show me. I was finally going to understand the secret of Cold Hollow.

The passage twisted and turned a couple of times, and just as it became exceedingly dark, another candle appeared around the next corner. The path widened once more and a whole row of candles became visible at what I assumed was the end. I squinted in the dark, seeing movement ahead as a figure dressed in white slowly appeared from the shadows.

“Lilly? Is that you? It’s me, it’s Kelly.”

I quickened my step but quickly came to a skidding halt.

“Lilly? What––?” Many things happened at once then. I suddenly became aware that it was indeed Lilly McClinton standing before me. She wore long white robes that extended beyond her hands and feet, not something a teenage girl would likely choose to wear, I thought. But she smiled and it disarmed me. That’s when I saw she was carrying a large ornate dagger. It took me a moment to realize I was in danger. It had all been a ruse to trap me.

I turned on my heels to run, but suddenly found myself face-to-face with two masked men. They wore similar robes, but in dark green or black with accompanying wooden masks carved to look like smiling skulls. I tried to break past them with force, but they were larger and much stronger.

I screamed and jerked against their cold grip, but the struggle ended fairly quickly. A cloth was pressed hard against my face and, after two or three heaving breaths, I collapsed into darkness. What happened after is still a blur.

I remember slowly regaining consciousness, though it's impossible to tell how much time had passed since I passed out. The air was thick and I felt queasy as I became aware of a conversation I could only make out in fragments. When I finally came to my senses again, I could feel that my arms and ankles had been restrained. For a split second, I worried that the agent used to render me unconscious must have blinded me too before I realized I was blindfolded. But the sensation that disturbed me most was the cool air against my bare skin. Someone had removed my clothing.

I heard only smatterings of a conversation being had some distance away.

“...enough to satisfy the master?” a man’s voice asked.

“Most certainly, the master will be pleased,” another man answered.

The conversation faded, but the silence was again broken by a firm and recognizable female. “No, father. I will do this one.” It was the voice of Lilly McClinton.

I strained against the ropes biting into me. A strangled cry left my throat despite my best attempts to remain quiet as panic blazed through my body. There was nothing I could do but try to breathe deeply to calm myself, but it was clear by the few words I could make out from the nearby conversation that something terrible was about to happen to me.

“Why this one, Lilly?” the first man said.

“There’s no family in town that would notice her missing, is there?” the second man asked.

I didn’t recognize either of their voices, but I was almost certain I knew who was talking.

“I’m not stupid, LeVey. I already told you; she’s an out-of-towner. No connections to the area except that dike she runs around with and the detective – or I should I say former detective, O’Connor. My daughter has assured me he’s on his way here now.” The voice had to be McClinton. “But why? Why would you deliberately ensure that someone interfere with the ritual?”

“It was your daughter’s idea. A good one at that, Lilly, I must say,” the voice was LeVey’s. “We’ve given him an opportunity to save the reporter––they seem to have a fondness for one another. Unfortunately for the both of them, she’ll already be dead by the time he arrives.”

“No one will believe it,” McClinton said.

“We control the newspapers. The people will believe what they’re told. Besides, everyone knows O’Connor has been on a bender for weeks and has grown increasingly volatile. It won’t be hard to portray him as the killer, not only of the reporter, but of Nicole and the rest of them too. That takes the heat off of you and your daughter.”

“Okay, but what’s the motive?” McClinton asked. “Why would he do it?”

“To frame you, of course. It’s no secret that he blames you for all the drugs flooding the area and that he holds you responsible for the death of his addict son.” I detected LeVey’scontempt for O’Connor in his voice. He said the name like he was spitting out poison.

“Mmm,” the Senator hummed. “I see you’ve thought it through. I’m impressed, but I don’t appreciate being excluded from—”

That’s when I heard a third voice. It hissed like the last breaths escaping from someone dying. It was other-worldly but feminine overall.

“Hurry! The hounds can smell my presence. They’ll come for us soon and without my full strength, I’ll be powerless to stop them. Drain her now and the portal can be opened before they arrive. We dare not keep Imarahim waiting.”

The Senator cleared his throat. “Yes, Maedra. Let’s prepare the offering for the master, then,” I heard him say, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching me.