107. Here Goes Nothing

Continued...

And then came the real test.

Gripping a bundle of sage and a few hexed charms in her palm, she forced herself to unlock the glass doors leading to the patio.

Stepping outside, her muscles tensed involuntarily. It wasn't dark yet, but she still felt exposed. The backyard, bathed in golden sunlight, looked normal.

Deceptively peaceful. But she knew better. She had seen what lurked here when the sun went down.

She hung the sage bundles along the patio roof, letting them dangle near the steps that led down to the open meadow before the woods.

With shaky hands, she took the largest cross she had and hung it onto the glass door—right outside, in plain sight.

"Burn your damn tattooed hands the next time you try sneaking in here," she muttered under her breath, pressing her lips into a tight line as she took a step back to inspect her work. "Let's see you waltz through this now, you shadowy prick."

A chill ran down her spine despite the sun still hanging in the sky. It all looked so… ordinary in the warm sunshine.

The wind rustled the trees, birds chirped in the distance, and yet, cum the nightfall, the scene would shift entirely.

However, even under the sun, the light, she felt watched. Always watched.

And Rose just called him an 'prick', maybe the cross was giving her too much confidence. She scurried back into the house quickly.

Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the last item she held—the tiny vial of holy water.

It had been the most expensive thing she had purchased from that cluttered, eerie pawn shop.

The old man behind the counter had practically drooled over it, selling it like it was some rare treasure. "Straight from St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City. Blessed by the Pope himself. This is the real stuff, kid."

He had sounded more like a shady drug dealer trying to sell his newest lot than a religious artifact collector to be honest. But, hell, she wasn't picky. Anything to ward off the evil shadowing her.

Shrugging to herself, she threaded the vial onto a chain and clasped it around her neck, letting it rest against her chest.

The cool glass pressed against her skin, a reminder of the lengths she was willing to go to feel safe.

If this keeps up, I'll end up layering my neck in charms like some superstitious grandma, she mused, tucking the vial under her shirt alongside the necklace she already wore—the one from her parents.

Steeling herself, she cast one last glance toward the woods.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, dipping toward the horizon.

Was the sun always in this much hurry to set or does it look like today's special?

Soon, the daylight would be gone, and the house, her so-called sanctuary, would no longer feel like one.

Rose licked her dry lips, letting out a shaky breath.

Here goes nothing.