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SEVENTEEN | THE FOUR HORSEMEN

Once we were in the right place, Old Tim – and the demon possessing his body – were surprisingly easy to find.

It was a relief to fall into the familiar routine of hunting. It gave me a chance to shut out my thoughts regarding Harper and Cyrus, and allowed me to focus fully on the task at hand. I was in my element here, stalking the streets of Beerbridge, my hand gripping the rowan knife in my pocket. 

I’d had to move it from the thigh holster – cool as it had looked – so that I could swing it quickly when the time came. Though Sierra seemed confident with the words of the exorcism, words of power designed to send the creature back to Hell, I couldn’t leave anything to chance. Who knew what poor Old Tim was dealing with, trapped inside his own body and unable to move or think or speak. He was a passenger, as far as our previous experience told us, anyway. I wrinkled my nose at the thought, and clutche

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