A dead black-feathered chicken lay across it next to a bowl. Inside the bowl was a picture of Dastien and me. We were on campus, sitting in the quad. There was a notebook in my lap, but I was laughing at Dastien. The picture was wrapped with some kind of fine, dark brown string. The color of my hair.
I wanted to grab it, but the tips of my toes were at the edge of the circle surrounding the pentagram. I’d watched enough movies and read enough books to know that crossing that circle could be bad news. I’d either alert her I was here or unleash something ugly. Either way, I wanted no part in that.
A brown matte substance was sprinkled all around the floor. I squatted down to get a better look, but I didn’t want to touch it. I gave it a sniff and it smelled of iron. I hoped it was blood fro
