Jeremy
Mayah was hanging back, watching everything with a wide-eyed, worried look on her face. “That’s not voodoo,” she whispered. “It’s not witchcraft or satanic ritual either.”
Harley put the finger bones back on the altar. “What else could it be?”
Mayah lifted her flashlight and aimed the beam at the bull-head hat. “It’s Molech.”
“What’s a Molech?” I asked, trying to keep the squeak out of my voice.
Mayah didn’t answer me. Beside me, Elijah took yet another step backward, like he wanted to put distance between himself and the vile discovery. He fumbled with the radio on his belt and held it up to his mouth. I thought I saw his lips quiver in the darkness before his thumb depressed the trigger. “Hey, Brendan?”
There was static before Brendan’s voice came back, “Yeah, what’s up?”
“
