Lake Herman is one of the first known murder sites of the Zodiac killer. So whoever Herman was, he lost the spotlight a long time ago.

While the Benicia State park is a level, scenic walk along the waterfront, Lake Herman is a bumpy landscape with all kinds of trees scattered about and a hiking trail that runs the perimeter of the lake. In other words it’s not ideal for fleeing from an oversized beast dog whose mere breath can scorch you into BBQ. “Are you sure there’s an Oak tree here?” I asked Gavin.

“For the third time bro, yes.”

“I’m just saying because we could just go to Mom’s house and not have to answer to any park rangers or sheriffs.” The park closed at sundown like most parks, so we’d be trespassing.

“I’m one hundred percent positive there’s at least five Oak trees around the lake,” Gavin reassured me. “Besides, the park’s too small for rangers. They only have caretakers.”

We jogged along a gravel trail, me leading the way. We’d parked in a dirt turn-off a ways down the road because the parking lot would have been locked for hours at this point. My hands were killing me now and the thought of the lake gave me some relief that, Oaks or no Oaks, I could at least cool off.

I had a whole bunch of thoughts racing through my mind. My Dad had been a magic user of some sort. Gavin hadn’t really specified what Dad could do, but Dad knew enough to train Gavin. Wow. This practically reframed my whole life.

I wonder if Mom knew. But how could she? She acted legitimately surprised when the Banshee attacked us and denied any possibility of the supernatural. If Dad was involved with that sort of thing and she knew about it, she wouldn’t have freaked out.

Suddenly Gavin veered left off of the gravel trail and let us on a small dirt hiking trail. “This way is faster.”

I took his word for it. He had always been more of a nature boy, like Dad. While we all went on family walks and spent time outdoors together, Gavin and Dad were always the first ones to go on a hiking trip while the rest of us stayed home and chilled.

My thoughts drifted to Nehemiah and his memory wipe trick. I wonder if that was the first time Mom had ever been memory wiped. I thought about my own life, my own memory. If my memory had ever been wiped, I’d literally have no way of knowing if somebody tampered with my brain. I knew that I’d never seen Leonardo DiCaprio or Tom Hardy in my dreams. Still, not too reassuring. Two headlights from a pickup truck brought me back to the here-and-now.

“Quick,” I said. “Into the bushes.”

Gavin and I dove behind some shrubbery flinging ourselves to the ground. Where in the heck did Rob go? The pickup truck rolled slowly to our position and then stopped. My heart beat fast. I wasn’t really scared, but didn’t want to get caught either. We didn’t have time to explain what we’re doing to a caretaker, and they wouldn’t believe us even if we did.

A flashlight cut through the darkness and pointed in our general direction. “It’s just an owl,” said a man in the passenger seat.

“But it’s got a Celtics hat on.”

“What are you smoking? You’re lucky we don’t get drug tested.” The pickup rolled away, gathering speed.

Owl-Rob fluttered over to us. “You’re welcome,” he hooted. Gavin gave him two thumbs up. We were up and at it in a jiffy. As he led the way I noticed a faint stinging pain in my scar. It was hard to recognize on top of the pain in my hands. I wanted to warn Gavin but he moved too quickly up the trail and I’d have to yell to get his attention.

Soon enough we were at the lake. While really too small to be a real lake, it was no tadpole puddle. At the furthest two points of the oval shaped lake, it’s a two thousand foot body of water that can get pretty deep in the middle. Gavin was right though. Contrary to my memory, there were what appeared to be five or six Oak trees along the perimeter of the lake. But it grew super dark by this point and I couldn’t be sure until I got up close.

The glasslike water reflected the moon and the stars, not a single ripple distorting the mirror image. Thousands of grasshoppers were having a chirp-off.

I panted and paused to catch my breath, then jogged towards the nearest tree.

At my side, Cat-Rob let out a hiss.

My Keening scar itched like crazy.

“Look sharp Gavin,” I yelled. “The Gwyllgi is gonna make another attack.”

No sooner had I said that did a smoky scent reach my nostrils. I felt and heard four legs pounding towards us. The flora and small shrubbery ahead of me lit up with an eerie light. I was running straight towards the monster.

“Ah crap,” said Gavin. “The caretakers are back.”

The puttering pickup truck engine drove up behind us. Truck headlights fell on us, our shadows elongated before us. I heard someone yell, “Hey you stop right there!”

I kept running, but gazed over my shoulder and the light blinded me. I caught a glimpse of Gavin’s silhouette standing with his hands out in front of him, playing it cool. The pickup truck doors opened and two men stepped out both with flashlights.

One of the caretakers yelled at me to stop running and came after me. I was several feet away from the Oak tree now when the Gwyllgi burst from the bushes. I tripped and stumbled, rolling headlong into the tree, but I touched bark, and that’s all that mattered. I rose to my feet keeping my hand in contact with the tree, letting it brush the bark as I stood up.

Despite the disarray going on around me I closed my eyes and tried to focus on drawing power from the tree.

Two weeks ago at my Mom’s house I’d unwittingly taken a leaf with me and used it later as a magic recharger. So I had some idea of how it should feel. I braced myself for a euphoria of intense power to rush into me, so much power that I wouldn’t even be able to contain it.

I was expecting something. Anything. But I wasn’t expecting nothing.

The tree was dead, lifeless. Not in a literal sense, but in a magical sense. It only took me seconds to realize but I didn’t have seconds to waste. The Gwyllgi growled at me and the caretaker.

The man at my back had stopped in his tracks as soon as the Gwyllgi erupted from the bushes. I could hear the quivering in his voice. “It’s okay kid, don’t move. I’ve had experience with rabid wolves before.”

Glamour, the strong magical delusion, shielded non-magic users from seeing the true reality of monsters. The poor guy thought that we were dealing with a crazed wolf. He had no idea the true horror he was staring down.

The Gwyllgi pawed the ground. It had no beef with the caretaker, only with me. It could sense the Banshee’s Keening on me. I called to mind that final scene in the 90’s Sandlot movie, where Benny has to outrun The Beast. I eyed the next Oak tree. It was over thirty feet away and I really wished I owned a pair of PF Flyers. My Converse would have to do.

But what if the tree was devoid of magic like the first one?

That was a risk I had to take.