Chapter 68

Chapter 68
Hollow Creek looked different when it dressed itself in celebration. The gray, decaying bones of the town were painted over with banners and bunting, bright reds and whites strung across Main Street, vendors setting up stands beneath lampposts wrapped in streamers. The annual Founders’ Day celebration always arrived in late summer, when the heat clung to the sidewalks and the air smelled of popcorn, fried dough, and sweat.

Tourists rolled in from neighboring counties, eager for small-town charm—an old-fashioned parade, craft booths, fireworks at night. For most, it was nostalgia dressed in cheer. But to Nathan, standing at the edge of the crowd with Marlene, it felt like camouflage. A show.

He tugged at his collar, eyes scanning. Too many people. Too much noise. A perfect place to disappear something—or someone—into the tide of celebration.

Marlene kept her camera strapped tight, moving with restless energy beside him. “They’re all here,” she murmured, not looking at him. “The mayor, half the Council, Grady’s men. Like they don’t have a care in the world.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened. “That’s the point.”

He had expected pomp, speeches, maybe the parade floats made from papier-mâché and chicken wire. What he hadn’t expected were the pins.

At first, they seemed harmless—little gold-and-silver pieces, pinned neatly on lapels, collars, blouses. But once he spotted the first one, his blood ran cold. The design was unmistakable: a stylized mask, triangular eyes, thin slashes for a mouth. The same masks Elijah’s priest friend had described, the same masks Nathan had seen sketched in the hidden files.

Ceremonial pins. Right there in broad daylight, in front of families and tourists. Hidden in plain sight.

Marlene caught it too. Her hand froze as she zoomed her camera lens. “Nathan…”

“I see it.” His voice was flat, low. He didn’t trust the noise around them, the cheer, the music spilling from the high school band that marched down the street in full uniform.

She clicked rapidly, snapping photos of each pin, each official. “It’s like they want to be seen.”

“Or,” Nathan said, “they want to know who’s smart enough to notice.”

A chill passed between them despite the heat.

The parade continued. Children waved tiny flags. A clown juggled flaming torches. A float rolled by, built to look like a replica of the first settler’s cabin, volunteers tossing wrapped candy into the crowd. Parents cheered, kids scrambled.

But Nathan’s eyes weren’t on the parade. They were on the sidelines. The Civic Council stood in clusters, shaking hands, laughing with practiced warmth. Each one wore the pin. Not gaudy. Not flashy. But deliberate. Identical.

It wasn’t just the Council. Grady’s deputies lined the streets, supposedly for security, but Nathan noted how many of them also bore the pins, clipped to their chest pockets. Law enforcement and government united under a symbol the rest of the town didn’t recognize.

Marlene lowered her camera for a moment, whispering, “How many do you count?”

Nathan’s gaze swept the street, tallying quickly. “At least twenty. Maybe more. That’s just the visible ones.”

Her lips pressed thin. “And the rest of the town claps for them like they’re heroes.”

That was what twisted Nathan’s gut the most—the blindness. The town wasn’t just complicit. It was celebrating the very people who were poisoning it. The cheer, the trust, the loyalty—it was all fuel for the Council’s control.

A brass band struck up a tune, drowning the street in blaring trumpets. Marlene flinched at the noise, but Nathan’s attention was locked on the mayor, strutting in front of the courthouse steps with his wife. The mayor’s pin gleamed in the sun, polished to perfection.

Nathan thought of Jace whispering the name Abaddon. Elijah screaming about his father in his head. The charred photographs from the Hall. The files marked Project ECHO.

And now this.

A show of force, dressed as tradition.

Marlene leaned close. “They’re bold because they think no one can touch them.”

“Or because something’s coming,” Nathan said grimly. “And this parade isn’t for us. It’s for them.”

The thought landed heavy. The Council wasn’t just parading for townsfolk. It was ritual. A rehearsal. A reminder to their own members of who held power.

Nathan scanned again, heart tightening when he spotted a familiar face—Pierce, the mayor’s assistant, the same man Marlene had caught in her lens at the Hall. He stood near the reviewing stand, smiling broadly, his pin perfectly aligned on his jacket.

Pierce’s gaze swept the crowd, casual yet purposeful. And for a moment, Nathan swore their eyes locked.

He looked away quickly, dragging Marlene with him deeper into the crowd. His pulse thudded in his ears.

“They see us,” he muttered.

Marlene frowned. “How can you be sure?”

“Because they wanted us here.” He gestured subtly. “Look around. No one’s stopping us from being close. No one’s blocking your camera. They know damn well what we’re seeing. And they’re not afraid.”

The idea curdled in Marlene’s stomach. “So what’s the message?”

“That we can’t stop it.”

The parade rolled on, each float more extravagant, each cheer louder. Nathan and Marlene drifted through the crowd, capturing photos where they could, whispering observations. The sense of unreality deepened. The town danced on strings, never realizing who pulled them.

When the sun began to dip, bathing the streets in amber glow, the parade reached its finale: a massive float shaped like a blazing sun, pulled by a convoy of trucks. On top stood children from the middle school, dressed in flowing white costumes, waving ribbons of red and gold. The crowd erupted in applause.

Nathan’s stomach turned. Fire. Children. Masks. The symbolism was too on the nose.

Marlene’s voice cracked. “Nathan… do you see it?”

He did. Carved into the front of the float, barely noticeable beneath the paint, was the same symbol etched into Elijah’s skin, the one Jace had drawn in his nightmares. A triangle of flames consuming a circle.

Ritual. Displayed for thousands, yet invisible to all but those who knew.

Marlene’s hand shook as she filmed, whispering, “They’re mocking us.”

“Or warning us,” Nathan said. His fists curled tight at his sides.

The float rolled on, children waving, the crowd cheering louder than ever.

Nathan and Marlene stood rooted, dread settling deep. They weren’t just witnesses anymore. They were marked.

When the parade ended and fireworks began to crackle overhead, Nathan barely noticed. His mind churned with one truth: the Council wasn’t hiding anymore.

They were celebrating.

And somewhere beneath the cheers, beneath the bright explosions painting the night sky, Nathan heard his brother’s voice in memory: One of the boys is the key. Save him, and you stop them.

But the Council’s pins, the float, the symbols—they screamed something else entirely.

They weren’t planning to stop. They were preparing to crown.

And Founders’ Day was only the prelude.