“It was weird,” Jessa agreed. “But weird is our brand. We’re literally going to a horror festival in the middle of nowhere. What did we expect? Welcome banners and a parade?”
Back in the car, the mood had shifted. The joking felt thinner now, stretched over something uneasy.
He was tall. Wearing a long coat. His face was lost in shadow, but in one hand he held something that glinted—not a weapon, but a film canister. Old. Tin.
The crowd went silent. Jessa’s hand found Cali’s arm, her nails digging in just a little.