September 20, Friday

THE AUTUMN sun warmed my back as I scribbled in my notebook, the words flowing easier than they had in months. Satan the goat grazed nearby, his methodical munching a soothing counterpoint to the scratch of my pen.

"And then," I muttered, lost in my fictional world, "Lady Amelia realized the handsome stonemason was actually—"

The rumble of an approaching engine brought me out of my reverie. I looked up to see a familiar charter bus lumbering down the road.

Show time.

As the bus ground to a halt, Edra Waco emerged, resplendent in flowing scarves and jangling jewelry. She reminded me of a walking wind chime, all tinkling sounds and fluttering fabric.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Edra announced, her voice carrying across the graveyard, "welcome to the infamous Whisper Cemetery, home to more alleged witches than anywhere else in the South!"

I rolled my eyes, settling in for the usual spiel. Satan, apparently as unimpressed as I was, continued his assault on a particularly stubborn weed.

Edra led her wide-eyed group through the headstones, spinning tales of curses and star-crossed lovers. I had to admit, she had a flair for the dramatic. It wasn't until she reached Rose's grave that things took an unsettling turn.

"And here, my friends," Edra said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "is where our story takes a dark turn. Behold!"

She whipped out a stack of photographs, and I felt my blood run cold. They were images of the vandalism, vivid and brutal in their detail.

"Just weeks ago," Edra continued, "this sacred ground was desecrated. Headstones shattered, ancient protections broken." She paused for effect, her eyes gleaming. "And who knows what kind of evil spirits might have escaped from these graves?"

A collective gasp rose from the group. Even Satan stopped chewing, his ears pricked forward.

"Oh yes," Edra nodded solemnly. "The veil between worlds is thin here, and with the barriers damaged..." She let the implication hang in the air.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I told myself it was just the cool breeze. But then Satan reared up, bleating in alarm, before tearing off towards the house.

"Traitor," I muttered, watching his white tail disappear into the distance.

As the tour group shuffled back to the bus, still buzzing with excitement and fear, I approached Edra.

"Quite the show," I said, trying to keep my voice casual. "Those photos were... vivid. Where did you get them?"

Edra's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "A good tour guide never reveals her sources, dear."

I frowned. "It's just... to my knowledge, only Sawyer took pictures of the damage. And those were only for the police report."

"Well," Edra said, adjusting her scarves, "perhaps your knowledge isn't as complete as you think."

As she turned to board the bus, a chilling thought struck me. What if the vandals themselves had taken photos? Trophies of their destruction?

"Edra," I called out, my heart racing. "If you know who did this—"

She cut me off with a laugh. "Don't ask, don't tell. Keeps things interesting, don't you think?"

With a wink and a jingle of her bracelets, she was gone, leaving me standing alone among the headstones.

My mind whirled. Was the woman protecting someone? Or was this all part of some larger game?

I glanced around the graveyard, suddenly feeling exposed. The headstones seemed to loom larger, their shadows stretching towards me like grasping fingers. I understood the fear I'd seen in the tourists' eyes.

"Get a grip," I muttered to myself, shaking off the eerie sensations.

But as I gathered my things to head back to the house, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important. The strange happenings were all connected somehow. I just couldn't see the pattern yet.

As I walked back to The Whisper House, I found myself looking over my shoulder, half-expecting to see shadowy figures darting between the graves. Satan was waiting for me on the porch, still nervous.

"Thanks for the backup," I told him dryly.

He bleated in response, head-butting my leg affectionately.

I sighed, scratching between his horns. "What do you say we stick together from now on? I've got a feeling things are about to get more complicated around here."