The drunk tank at the Maple Hollow Sheriff's Department smelled like sweat and old piss. Beau sat on the cold metal bench, arms folded, trying not to touch anything. Across from him, Kayla lounged like she was in a damn hotel room.

  "You think they'll charge us?" she asked, chewing a wad of gum she had somehow smuggled past the deputies. "Maybe possession? Trespassing? If you get a record, your college dreams are toast, Beau."

  Beau scowled. "You're hilarious."

  Kayla winked. "Come on, lighten up. It's not like they found anything on us."

  Denny sat in the corner, dozing. Trey was hunched over, holding his head like it might fall off. Cassie sat beside Beau, silent, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread in her jeans. Every once in a while, her shoulder would brush his. It sent sparks through him, even here, even now.

  The metal door clanged open, and Sheriff Brandt stepped in with that permanent sneer plastered across his red face. Behind him came a parade of parents. Beau's stomach dropped when he saw his father, Roy Miller, walking tall and tired in his work clothes.

  "Keep your kid out of trouble, Roy," Brandt said. "Next time, I might not be so friendly."

  Roy nodded at his old friend. "Appreciate the warning, Ellis."

  Beau wanted to sink into the floor.

  They walked out without a word. The ride home was silent, save for the steady hum of the engine. Roy kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight. He did not look angry. He looked disappointed. And that, somehow, felt worse.

  At home, Roy made a pot of coffee and sat Beau down at the kitchen table. It was past midnight, but the house felt wide awake.

  "You are a smart kid, Beau," his dad said, fixing him with a hard stare. "Smarter than to go chasing ghosts with your friends in the woods at night."

  "You said the Reaper isn't real," Beau muttered.

  Roy leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "The Reaper isn't. But kids did die in those woods in eighty-five. They got lost, fell, broke their legs. Then coyotes or wild dogs found them. Ate them alive. They were too dehydrated, too weak to scream. They found them with their faces half-eaten. I don't want that happening to my only son."

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  "Sorry, Dad." Beau kept his eyes on the table. "You know, we found some weird things in the woods. Markings on trees. Bones arranged in circles."

  Roy sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Back in eighty-five, we had that satanic panic. It was real, in a way. Not demons or dark magic. Just kids trying to piss off their church-going parents. They played at devil worship. Prayed to pagan gods in the woods. Thought it was edgy. Most of them grew out of it by college."

  "So the stuff we saw..."

  "Old." Roy took a sip. "Probably made in the eighties. Dumb kids like your buddy Denny, acting tough and spooky with switchblades and skull patches."

  Beau nodded slowly. "The bones—"

  "Deer. Roadkill. Maybe a few human bones too, stolen from the church graveyard. Yeah, that happened. Kids thought it was funny. They thought it made them cool."

  "There was something older," Beau said. "A carving of Pan. It looked... ancient."

  Roy stared at him for a moment, then gave a tired nod. "That carving's been there a long time. Since the settlers first came to Maple Hollow. Not everyone brought crosses. Some brought older gods with them. Celtic stuff. Pan, Cernunnos, all that. They practiced in secret. Eventually, it faded. Until some bright kids in the eighties dug it back up and started making sacrifices. Real stupid stuff."

  "There was an altar. Dried blood on it," Beau said softly.

  Roy did not flinch. "Goat, maybe. Kids did that kind of thing. I was already out of school by a decade then. Heard about it from friends in law enforcement. They arrested a few boys, made an example out of them. That altar's been sitting out there ever since."

  He leaned forward. His voice dropped low. "Beau, you are a good, smart kid. I do not want you making mistakes because your friends pull you into something. I know all of them. Trey, Denny, Kayla, Cassie. I've known their parents since we were all young. Don't let them drag you into drinking, drugs, or chasing shadows in the woods. You hear me?"

  "I hear you, Dad. I won't."

  Roy studied him for a long second, then gave a half-smile. "You sweet on that Cassie girl?"

  Beau flushed, the heat rising to his ears. "I dunno."

  "You don't know," Roy repeated with a chuckle. "Son, I did a lot of dumb things to impress girls when I was your age. And I gotta say, Cassie is a fine-looking girl. I've known her since she was a toddler. Never thought she’d grow up into a heartbreaker, but here we are. Whoever ends up with her will be a lucky guy."

  Beau felt his heart thudding like a drum. He had dreamed of Cassie. More than once. Dreams too raw to ever admit out loud.

  Roy clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Just don't let a pretty face talk you into doing something stupid that you will regret twenty years from now."

  "I won't, Dad," Beau nodded. "I promise."

  "Oh, and listen to what the sheriff tells you," Roy said. "Ellis and I have been friends for years. He is a bit rough around the edges, but you can trust him. It might be hard for you kids to believe it. I sure didn't when I was your age. But the truth is, sometimes it's okay to trust the adults."