All Hallows Eve: A Krewe of Hunters Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Heather Graham Page B

vacated. “My people are Gullah.”
    Sissy was striking, her skin coffee-colored, her eyes a soft blue. She had dark hair, queued at the nape of her neck, wearing a black cape over a long black skirt and tailored shirt.
    “You’ve chosen to be Wiccan?” Devin asked.
    Sissy nodded. “Something speaks to all of us, and not always what’s in our heritage. But, basically, I follow the tenets of almost any creed. Be good to others, care for the elderly, sick, and injured, cherish all children, never offer violence. Be a good human being.”
    “Nice,” Devin said. “Gullah is based on Christianity?”
    “Of course, but so is voodoo,” Sissy reminded her. “And look, many fundamentalists have caused tremendous harm to others in the name of traditional religions. Every faith out there has those who choose to take it too far, or read into it what isn’t there.”
    “Or use it,” Sam said. “Sissy, we’re seeing a lot of boo-hag costumes, or at least one boo-hag costume, over and over again. The boo-hag is a Gullah demon, right?”
    Sissy nodded. “Some manufacturer came up with that awful costume. Red latex to look like a fleshless body, a horrible demon face. My mother was so upset. She said it’s just going to make people anti-Gullah. But it’s just part of Halloween. People dress up as crazed movie characters. They know Freddy and Jason and all those fictional killers are just from movies. They’ll know that a boo-hag is simply from legend, like a vampire or a werewolf. No true Gullah in this community would ever buy or wear such a costume.”
    “Here we go,” Tandy said, slipping a pair of reading glasses from her pocket to stare at an incoming message on her phone.
    Sam’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was local, so he answered. For a moment, there was nothing. Then he heard something like a snuffled tear.
    “Sam?”
    For a split second, he was confused.
    Then he knew.
    “Elyssa?”
    He heard a sudden cry.
    Then a whispered voice. “You want this one to live? Then get your wise-ass partner under control. All of you back down. Leave this alone. Let these murders go into the great cauldron of unsolved crimes. That is if you ever want to see this kid again. You back off, and she’s free on November 1. You keep it up, she dies before Halloween.”
    Sam forced himself to remain calm, glancing at Rocky, who knew what the look meant. Trouble. So he worked to keep the caller on the phone, as Rocky called headquarters to run a trace through Sam’s phone.
    “We want Elyssa alive,” he said. “But I have to have some kind of assurance that you’re not going to hurt her regardless of what we do.”
    A soft laugh seeped through the speaker. “Trying to keep me on the line? You’re on your cell, not at police headquarters. So you’ll need some time to run a trace. It was nice that Elyssa kept this number in her phone. You were an attorney, so I would hope you understand the fine art of negotiation.”
    “So negotiate,” Sam said. “I have to know that Elyssa remains alive.”
    “A call every six hours. But there’ll be a new number each time. If I even suspect you’re playing me, this pretty little girl will be hanged. Maybe by the witch memorials or the cemetery, right there amidst all the tourist attractions. Or I could find another cool place. So you need to find Jenna Duffy. Actually, I wouldn’t mind seeing her hanged either. Now there’s a thought...”
    “Touch her,” he said, “and you’ll face hell a thousand times here on earth before going to the real thing.”
    Laughter followed his remark.
    Cocky?  Why not?  Two people were already dead.
     “Sam,” the voice said, “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were a negotiator.”
    “Okay, let’s negotiate and not threaten other people.”
    He looked at Rocky, who was listening to his own phone, watching Sam with anxious eyes. Rocky nodded. They had a location.
    “Okay. I agree. Don’t kill anyone else