Midnight Solitaire by Greg F. Gifune

woman, and if she’s escaped up into the vent shaft, has survived and is still hiding somewhere in the ductwork, she poses no immediate threat. “Watch the road,” he says evenly. “I have to secure this place best I can then we’ll deal with that.”
    “He tries coming through that door he won’t make it.” Luke holds the .38 up for effect. “Between the two of us he can’t—”
    “That might slow him down. It won’t stop him.”
    “I put one in his head it’ll stop him.”
    “No. It won’t.”
    “He ain’t Superman, bro.”
    “I already told you what he is.”
    “I’m not scared of the Devil.”
    “Well you should be.”
    In a misguided battle of wills, they hold each other’s stares for several seconds. Luke breaks first, looking away before limping back over to the front of the office to resume his guard duty.
    Unsure of what to do, Greer wanders about between them.
    Doc removes several items from the leather bag, including a squat white candle, a container of black pepper, a jar containing cloves of garlic, a small wooden bowl, and two small plastic bottles, one filled with water, the other with olive oil. He first takes a pinch of pepper and sprinkles it at the inside threshold of the front door.
    “Beware those outside the light who break this bond or attempt to cross this threshold,” he mutters. “You will find neither welcome nor refuge here, and are forbidden entrance.”
    Luke and Greer exchange their second troubled glances of the evening.
    “What is this?” Luke asks. “More of your of voodoo bullshit?”
    “Witchcraft,” Greer says. “I think.”
    “Are you fucking kidding me?”
    Doc quickly returns to the counter. “Watch the road.”
    “I been watching the motherfucking road,” Luke snaps. “Only thing out there’s some snow and ice. I think your boy’s long gone.”
    “He’s closer than you realize.”
    “All I see is you acting a fool and throwing shit on the floor.”
    Doc mixes water and oil together in the bowl. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with or what he’s capable of.”
    “I know no matter how crazy he is he’s still a man just like anybody else.”
    “He is crazy, you’re right about that. He’s completely, hopelessly insane.” Doc lights the white candle. “But he’s not a man.”
    “Yeah? Well I don’t believe in that mumbo-jumbo, supernatural bullshit.”
    Doc opens the jar of garlic cloves. “Says the man wearing a crucifix.”
    “That’s right, I believe in Jesus. You don’t like it? Fuck you.”
    “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you believe.” Doc places nine cloves of garlic on the counter. “I’m just trying to keep him out. These purification and protection spells will accomplish that. They won’t work indefinitely, his magic is far more powerful than mine, but they’ll make due for now.”
    “Dude got a bag full of guns and he’s playing with spells and candles. Fuck you think this is?” Luke looks to Greer for support but she shrugs and turns away. “All right, fine. Whatever.”
    One at a time, Doc holds the cloves over the flame. The moment they ignite he drops them into the bowl, one after the next. As they’re extinguished, a scented smoke is released. He holds the bowl higher, allowing the smoke to crawl higher and across the office area. “Evil, I repel you and purify this space.”
    After several seconds, Doc goes to the door, opens it and pours the contents of the bowl onto the ground. He then returns the items to the bag, takes up the shotgun and looks up at the vent.
    “What?” Greer asks.
    Luke leans close, tells her about the shoeprint and whispers, “Think there might be someone up there, maybe another employee that got away, hid up in the vent.”
    Doc searches the items scattered on the couch from the knapsack until he finds a canvas wallet. He opens it, locates a driver’s license. “Kit Piper?” he calls out, walking back toward the vent. “Kit, if you’re up there it’s all