Forged in Fire by J.A. Pitts Page A

I opened a stall door and took a shaking and rearing horse by the lead rope. They didn’t want to be touched, wanted to run wild, escape the smell of blood and the memories of what had happened in their safe place.
    I got them all out to the paddock and shut the barn door. There was water in the trough, and I’d grab some hay to put down. Eating would calm them.
    By the time I had the horses settled, the cops were wrapping up. I hopped the fence and made my way toward the house. Julie was talking with Detective Carmine and Mrs. Campbell while Mrs. Sorenson hung back on the porch. The uniformed officers drove away, and the neighbors began to wander back to their homes.
    I walked up to Julie and Mary.
    “How’re you holding up?” I asked Mrs. Campbell.
    “The other horses are okay, right?” she asked.
    “Panicked,” I said. “But I don’t think they are injured in any way. I’ll inspect them each with the vet tech before we leave.”
    “Thank you,” Mary Campbell said, quietly. “I can’t believe someone could come here and do this while I was here all alone.”
    She shivered, and Julie put her arm around Mary, who then turned and put her head on Julie’s shoulder.
    “I’ve called Black Briar to come out as well,” I said, mainly to Julie. “They’ll get here after the vet tech vacates.”
    “Good idea,” Julie said, patting Mary on the back. I could hear her quietly sobbing. After a minute, Mrs. Sorenson trundled off the porch and down to us. She smiled at me sadly, said something in Yiddish I didn’t understand, and pulled Mary off Julie’s shoulder.
    “Come inside,” she said, her accent thick and throaty. “Let the young ones do what must be done. You come and lie down.”
    Mary allowed herself to be led away. Julie patted her on the shoulder as she walked past, then turned to me, speaking in urgent, hushed tones.
    “Did you see?” she asked.
    “The little pig message? Yeah. Very pleasant.” I rubbed my eyes. “But why did you think it was a warning to me?”
    Julie looked puzzled. “Did you not see the other message? The one written down the length of the roof beams?”
    “I didn’t see anything,” I answered truthfully. “Only the one message in the stall where the ritual stuff was done.”
    She looked at me with that exasperated teacher look and turned me by my shoulders. “Go look again,” she said. “And pay attention.”
    “Geez, yes, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes at her.
    I walked away from her toward the barn. Before going in, I turned back to see her watching me with her arms crossed over her chest.
    That’s when it dawned on me. She wasn’t using her cane. That was a bright spot in an otherwise creepy day.
    Charlie was taking pictures in the stall where the horse had been butchered. “Hey, Beauhall. You see anything I might’ve missed?”
    I looked around, looking at the pillars and cross-joists. If there was a message there, I didn’t see anything.
    “Not that I can see,” I answered. “You looking for something specific?”
    He stood up, holding the camera in one hand. “I thought maybe you recognized that weapon the cops took,” he said, motioning to where the serpentine blade had been stuck into the ground. I’ve heard you had a keen eye and were some sort of weapons expert.”
    “Collector,” I said. “Looked like a stereotypical ritual blade,” I said. “Wouldn’t fight with it. Twisted blade like that wouldn’t stand up to real punishment.”
    He watched me, waiting for me to say the magic word. I wasn’t sure what he wanted. “Anything else catch your eye, besides the blade?”
    I walked up and down the length of the barn, looking from one beam to the next—one stall after another.
    On the third pass through the place, with Charlie standing in the kill stall watching me, I caught a glimmer of something.
    Near the top of the third stall, there was a glamour. That’s the only way I could think of it. If I looked directly at it, I couldn’t