Devon

“Are you sure this is it?” I ask Tom, who is typing away on his laptop in the passenger’s seat.

“Of course, this is it! I’m the one with the key, remember?”

“If you’re wrong about this, Tom, it’s not me who will give you a new one. Logan will rip your throat out.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I told you, Mom and I have been here a dozen times. My Gran built it decades ago. It has any and all supernatural weapons you can ...