(continued from “Leap of Faith”...)

It’s been weeks since we found that giant skull in the desert. We’ve all gone back to work and made promises to keep our secret. Our schedules have kept us from continuing our explorations so far.

Every day I’m on edge that it’s gonna come up in a meeting- I am a detective for the local police after all- but so far it seems nobody else knows it exists.

I spend my lunch breaks in the records department, trying to find any sort of indication that my friends and I aren’t the first to encounter this... thing... but reports are few and far between. And vague.

“Detective Ashton?” Veronica, the secretary, knocks gently on my door.

“Yes, V?” This better be important.

“Um, the Captain wants to see you..”

Oh shit. “Tell her I’ll be right there,” I shove some papers into my desk drawer and lock it before hightailing it down the corridor to Captain Blackbird.

“All these clues point towards me, but I can’t have committed these murders!” I’m incredulous. I’ve been hunting this bastard for weeks and now my boss thinks they employ a serial killer.

“Look, Ash,” Blackbird rubs her dark temples, “the killer is your height, approximately your weight, transgender, and well-equipped to clean up after themselves. How many people in this godforsaken town for that description?”

She has me there. I have a sick feeling in my stomach.

I leave the station at 2am. I’ve spent the last hours of my sanity trying to prove my innocence, and slowly realising that I might be the only one capable of these murders. But surely I would know?

But would I?

Stranger things have happened in this town recently...

I jerk awake. I was falling asleep behind the wheel! I call Cheeks. Her manic personality will keep me from crashing into something or someone. “Cheeks, I’m losing my mind.”

“Oh, honey, I lost mine ages ago!” she laughs like a chipmunk.

“I think I murdered 12 people.” I sound hollow.

“Like, just now, or over a period of time?”

“Stop messing around, I’m serious. That serial killer I’ve been tracking might be me.”

I recite all the evidence for Cheeks and then again when I get home and connect Rum to the call.

“Well, I guess I’m best friends with a killer!” Rum’s faint accent comes through when he’s nervous.

“I guess I’m gonna have to turn myself in.” I can’t believe it.

I shouldn’t believe it.

The killer is me.

The killer is not me.

I fall asleep behind the wheel.

I don’t sleepwalk.

I’ve seen weird shit the past few weeks.

I don’t have a personality disorder.

This is connected to that damn skull.

Something dark came out with us, and it wants to make sure we don’t go back. My friends and I are in danger. And nobody can help us.

Why did I keep that fucking coin?

(To be continued...)