Free The Demon Signet by Shawn Hopkins

minutes later she was announcing her findings while resting a hand on Heather’s knee. “Watertown. It’s about half an hour away. Looks pretty big, lots of traffic lights.”
    “Okay, half an hour.” Ian looked back to his fiancée. “Think you can make that, Heath?”
    She nodded. She didn’t think she could make five more minutes, but if half an hour meant warmth, food, and the company of other people in an open, civilized setting, then she would try her hardest to hang on for Watertown. She didn’t know why “civilization” should bring added comfort, as if the tremors shaking her grasp of the natural world would be warded off by internet cafés, traffic lights, and McDonalds. For some reason, though, she thought she would feel better in a modern, concrete city.
    “Earthquake.”
    “Huh?” Marcus turned toward Ashley while Ian tried finding her in the rearview.
    “That’s what it was,” Ashley said, shaking her head as if she was so stupid for not seeing it before.
    “What ‘what’ was?” Ian looked confused.
    “The mailboxes.”
    “You think that was an earthquake?”
    “What else?”
    As ludicrous as her theory was, no one had a different explanation.
    “Earthquake,” Ian repeated, nodding as if he could actually accept it.
    But Heather knew that earthquakes couldn’t drum up a person’s secret past through a Smartphone. She wrapped her arms around her chest and leaned forward, eyes still closed. Half an hour .
    Ian turned the radio up.
    “…The weather outside is frightful…”
    And indeed, as the remaining light of day melted into the earth, snow began falling faster and harder, as if encouraged by the lyrics ringing through the tiny speakers.
    “ Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow… ”
    Ian turned the windshield wipers on, and the fast swish-swoosh of rubber squeaking over glass seemed only to hasten the rate at which the space was closing on Heather’s vulnerable psyche.
    Half an hour…
    But Snowy was standing in her way, grinning at her.

Seven
     
    He’s getting closer. He can hear it calling out to him through the lesser-known fabrics that make up this world’s constitution. He likens the effect to a book he read when he was a child, some ridiculous story about a hobbit. He knows where the author’s ideas came from, the truth that inspired the fiction. There are too many similarities shared for it not to be so.
    The thought of his childhood sends a shudder through his body, and he pushes the past from his mind.
    The road comes at him quickly, the snow that’s falling making it nearly invisible, but he doesn’t dare slow down. Not when he’s this close.
    He senses something up ahead, a presence nearing his path. He isn’t certain what it is, but he knows where it will be, and he turns the wheel, taking his dark chariot into the oncoming lane beside him. A moment later, in his periphery, he sees the shape of a leaping deer. It materializes out of the woods and lands a mere foot from his car. Had he not sensed its warmth, its life-force, ahead of time, his pursuit of the ring would have been severely hindered. He thanks his Company for the warning and swerves back into the eastbound lane. He adjusts his glasses with a gloved hand, pounding snow reflecting across their lenses.
    Behind him, the deer stands still on the invisible road and watches after the glowing taillights. Like glowing red eyes that close for sleep, they finally disappear into the fury of the storm. Above it, somewhere from within the white oblivion, crows begin to sing.
    The deer’s knees bend in a flash, and the animal is suddenly soaring away from the asphalt, disappearing into the safety of the forest.

Eight
     
    By the time the red rental rolled into Watertown, the sun had disappeared from the sky and no cows had yet been seen. The snow was heavier, and the wind was hurling it horizontally across their path. The headlights’ twin beams poked through the frenzy while traffic lights flashed yellow