Hell's Circle
Hell's Circle
The truck’s headlights sliced through the thick fog rolling off the flooded roads like twin blades of cold white fire. Kane Baker gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his bruised ribs aching with every bump and jolt as the vehicle sped down the narrow, waterlogged path toward the Hawthorne Library. The engine growled low and angry, tires churning through shallow floodwater that sprayed up against the undercarriage with rhythmic, wet slaps.
Kivior sat rigid in the passenger seat, the ancient spellbook clutched tightly against his chest beneath his coat. His eyes were set on the road ahead of him, and he was grimly resolved. Lina sat in the back, hands folded tight in her lap, whispering silent prayers under her breath. The only sounds were the roar of the engine, the constant splash of water beneath the tires, and the occasional creak of the truck’s aging frame as it fought through the flooded terrain.
No one spoke. The silence was heavy, charged with the weight of what they were racing toward—a little girl’s life hanging in the balance, a demon’s trap closing around them, and the impossible choice they had made.
Kane’s jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. His mind kept flashing back to Orishirishi’s black eyes, the crushing grip around his throat, the invasive cold of her presence inside his mind. The bruises on his neck throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He pressed the accelerator harder, the truck lurching forward through another deep puddle that sent a wave of muddy water crashing against the windshield.
Then, without warning, a large buck burst out of the fog directly into the road.
“Shit!” Kane slammed on the brakes.
The truck fishtailed violently on the slick, flooded asphalt. Tires screamed. The deer’s wide, terrified eyes reflected the headlights for one frozen second—glassy, haunted, as if the animal had seen something far worse than death coming for it. The impact was sickening. A heavy thud, the crunch of bone and metal. The buck’s body rolled across the hood and slammed into the windshield before tumbling off to the side.
The truck skidded to a stop, half off the road, engine coughing. For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was the ticking of the cooling engine and the distant lapping of floodwater.
Kane exhaled sharply, hands still locked on the wheel. “Everyone okay?”
Kivior nodded tightly. “Yes.”
Lina’s voice was shaky from the back. “I’m fine.”
Kane killed the engine and stepped out into the cold night air. The fog wrapped around him like damp fingers, carrying the sharp, coppery scent of fresh blood and the musky odor of the dying animal. His boots sank into the muddy shoulder as he walked around the front of the truck.
The buck lay on its side in the grass, chest heaving weakly for a few final seconds before going still. Its eyes—wide, glassy, and unblinking—stared up at the foggy sky as if it had glimpsed hell itself before the end.
Kane crouched beside it, one hand resting gently on the warm, blood-slicked flank. The fur was coarse and wet, still radiating the last traces of life. He couldn’t just leave it there like roadkill. Not tonight. Not with everything else going wrong.
“We’re not leaving it,” he said quietly as Kivior and Lina joined him.
Kivior nodded without argument. Together, the two men lifted the heavy carcass and carried it to the back of the truck. They laid it gently in the bed, the metal groaning under the weight. Kane covered it with an old tarp from the toolbox, the fabric dark with oil and dust.
No one spoke as they climbed back in. The truck roared back to life, and they continued toward the library, the dead buck’s presence in the bed a grim, silent passenger.
.
.
.
Back at the grove, Vera stood like a statue outside the Hell’s Circle she had drawn, the red-wrapped dagger still clutched tightly in her arms. The cold night air pressed against her skin, damp and heavy with the scent of wet earth, rotting leaves, and the distant, briny tang of the rising river. Fog curled lazily around her boots, glowing faintly in the harsh glare of the cruiser’s headlights.
Orishirishi—still wearing Eleanor Hawthorne’s frail body—paced slowly along the edge of the glowing circle, black eyes never leaving Vera. The demoness’s movements were graceful yet predatory, each step sending small ripples through the mist at her feet. The air around the circle shimmered faintly whenever she tested the barrier, a low hum of holy power crackling like static electricity.
“You’re making a mistake, Sheriff,” Orishirishi purred, her layered voice smooth as poisoned honey. “Break the circle. Give me what’s mine. The girl is suffering as we speak. Cold. Alone. Terrified. Do you really want her blood on your hands?”
Vera’s jaw tightened, but she kept her stance firm, boots planted solidly in the damp grass. “Shut up.”
The demoness laughed softly, the sound echoing unnaturally through the grove. “Such fire. I admire it. Did you know this is one of the first Hell’s Circles ever used successfully against one of my kind on Earth? Ancient humans learned the hard way how to trap us. Salt, chalk, holy symbols… clever little apes. I applaud you and your little gang for thinking of it.”
Vera remained silent, eyes locked on the demoness. Orishirishi continued circling, her voice growing more intimate, almost conversational. “My sister and I have been at war for centuries, you know. Fighting for Lucifer’s favor. For territory. For power. She always thought she was smarter. Always thought she deserved more. But truly, I won our last contest. And she has never forgiven me for it.”
Vera’s patience finally snapped. “I don’t care about your family drama. Be quiet.”
The demoness ignored her, smiling wider. “But you should care, Sheriff. Because my dear sister is playing a long game. And you… you’re just another pawn in it.”
Vera turned away slightly, trying to block out the words. But Orishirishi kept talking, her voice dropping into something softer, more venomous.
“You know what it’s like to be broken by someone you trusted, don’t you? That man… David. He beat you so badly one night that you lost the child growing inside you. A secret you’ve carried alone for years. No one else knows. Not even Kane.”
Vera’s blood ran cold. She whipped around, stepping closer to the edge of the circle before she could stop herself. “How the hell do you know that?”
Orishirishi’s black eyes gleamed with triumph. She leaned forward as far as the barrier allowed, her smile sharp and cruel. “I know everything, Sheriff. Every scar. Every secret. Every shame you try to bury. And I can make it all so much worse if you don’t let me the fuck out of here.”