September 4, Wednesday

THE CRUNCH of tires on gravel announced Detective Jack Terry's arrival. I watched from the porch as his dark sedan pulled up. The Atlanta police license plate was a stark reminder of the world beyond Irving's borders.

Jack unfolded his large frame from the car, his face grim as he surveyed the property. Even from a distance, I could see the tension in his broad shoulders.

"Ms. Vanguard," he called, walking towards me. "Thanks for meeting me."

I nodded, leading him towards the graveyard. "Of course. I appreciate you coming all this way."

We walked in silence, the weight of the moment settling over us like a heavy blanket. As we passed through the gate and approached Serena's grave, Jack's steps slowed. I hung back, giving him space as he took in the damage.

The spray paint had been mostly scrubbed away, but the cracks in the headstone remained, a jagged testament to the violence done here. Jack reached out, his fingers tracing the etched letters of Serena's name.

"Damn," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "What kind of animal would do this?"

"It was reported to the Birmingham police," I offered.

"I'll make a few phone calls," he said.

I watched as he knelt beside the grave, his large frame seeming to crumple in on itself. The depth of his grief was palpable, and I found myself blinking back tears.

"I'm so sorry, Detective," I said softly. "We did our best to clean it up, but..."

He nodded, not looking up. "I appreciate that. But don't worry, I'll have the headstone replaced right away. Serena deserves better than this."

His words, and the raw pain behind them, struck me. "You must have loved her very much," I ventured.

Jack stood slowly, wiping a hand across his eyes. "More than I thought possible. Serena was... special. There was no one else like her."

I hesitated, then asked, "Were you close with her family? I mean, given how long ago this happened..."

He shook his head. "No. Serena was estranged from her family when we met. And after she died... well, they blamed me. Wouldn't even let me attend the funeral."

I spoke carefully. "Why would they blame you?"

"Let's just say they didn't approve of our relationship, or of Serena's choices in general."

I nodded, not wanting to push too hard. But as Jack turned to survey the rest of the graveyard, a glint of metal on his left hand caught my eye.

"You're married?"

He glanced down at his hand, as if he'd forgotten about the ring. "Yeah, recently. I thought... well, I hoped it might help me move on. But..."

"But?" I prompted gently.

Jack ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. "But I've been having these dreams. About Serena. Worse than ever before."

A chill ran down my spine. "What kind of dreams?"

"Serena's there, but she's... different. Scared." His voice was low. "She keeps begging me to help someone named Rose."

My heart skipped a beat. "Rose? As in Rose Whisper?"

Jack's head came around. "You know that name?"

I nodded slowly. "She was the last owner of the house I'm staying in. She died earlier this year. She was a cousin to Serena, I believe."

"I knew Serena had family here, but I never met them. You're sure this Rose is dead?"

"Her headstone is just over there."

I led him to the grave. Detective Terry studied Rose's marker. "This stone looks more damaged than the others."

I hadn't noticed—was it purposeful? "A local stone mason has pledged to fix them all."

And as Jack stood before Rose's headstone, his face a mask of concentration, I couldn't help thinking that his dreams, the vandalism, the whispers of magic and old feuds—it was all connected somehow.