numbers in it.
“Tell me which collections you want to see, and these contain newspapers and other...” he fluttered his fingers, “materials. I’ll bring you whatever ones you want to look at. No photography, no pens. So that,” he crooked an eyebrow at the phone I had pulled out of my pocket when I handed him my business card, “needs to stay off and put away.”
Never exactly seen anyone react to a cell phone like they were Dracula having a lump of garlic stuck in his face .
“Of course, sure,” I said. “Doesn’t get reception down here anyway.”
At first, I was hopeful. There were a handful of murders reported through the years that reminded me of what Damon described. Bodies discovered chained up and all that. But all the bodies were reported as normal, which unless the police reports were simply lies, couldn’t be werewolves.
Box after box of newspapers, loose files, torn up letters and everything else that I could go through shed very little light on much of anything. About the only useful information there was to get is that the town of Scagg’s Valley seemed to have a horrible desert drifter problem. The almost-homeless people who lived outside town got approximately one hundred percent of the blame for those old murders.
It reminded me of people just blaming “gypsies” for whatever bad things happened. None of it made sense, but there also were so many more boxes to go through that I knew I’d never manage in a day.
With noon looming, I remembered that Hunter needed his car soon, and gathered my things to take off.
Just as I opened the door, I heard a creaking chair and a hiss.
“Ma’am?” It was Carrell, and he was behind me a lot closer and quicker than he should have been. Suddenly I remembered the weird brain feelings he gave me, particularly when my skin started crawling as he put his fingers on my shoulder. “Will you be coming back to use the materials? Or may I,” he swallowed, and then licked his lips before continuing. “Shelve them?”
The way his voice tilted up at the end of his words was for some reason very unsettling, and I got the distinct feeling that I’d known him or met him before, though I knew that was impossible.
“N... no,” I said. “Not today anyhow.” I shifted a little and his hand fell off my shoulder.
Sometimes it’s the little blessings.
“I see. Well fine. That’s just fine. Tomorrow? From the amount of things you have on your list for me to pull, it’ll take quite some time to go through it all. I’d hate for you to leave unsatisfied in your research.”
I don’t know why, but I needed out then .
“Oh my God! Look at the time,” I said. “I’m late to meeting someone. You’ll have to excuse me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever left a place faster, or with more burning need to get the hell away from someone.
Out in the parking lot, I could finally breathe.
One heavy, deep inhale later, I found myself shaking, almost uncontrollably, as I slid into the car. When I was in and the door was locked, something really damn weird seemed to take hold of me.
I gripped the steering wheel so tight with one hand my fingers started to ache, and when I tried to get the keys out of my purse, my hand trembled so hard that I dropped them twice before getting them anywhere near the ignition.
It was like the air was getting crushed out of my chest. My lungs constricted, my heart pounded, and it was all I could do to get the car in gear and start out of the parking lot.
Almost the instant I began to get further from the courthouse, the tension inside me began to release, little by little, until it completely relaxed when I left the cramped little parking lot and pulled onto the road that led to Hunter’s house.
Instinctively I grabbed my phone and immediately wished that Damon was a reasonable human being with a cell phone. Hunter would have to do.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, you on the way back?” he asked.
“Yeah sorry, I got
“Tell me which collections you want to see, and these contain newspapers and other...” he fluttered his fingers, “materials. I’ll bring you whatever ones you want to look at. No photography, no pens. So that,” he crooked an eyebrow at the phone I had pulled out of my pocket when I handed him my business card, “needs to stay off and put away.”
Never exactly seen anyone react to a cell phone like they were Dracula having a lump of garlic stuck in his face .
“Of course, sure,” I said. “Doesn’t get reception down here anyway.”
At first, I was hopeful. There were a handful of murders reported through the years that reminded me of what Damon described. Bodies discovered chained up and all that. But all the bodies were reported as normal, which unless the police reports were simply lies, couldn’t be werewolves.
Box after box of newspapers, loose files, torn up letters and everything else that I could go through shed very little light on much of anything. About the only useful information there was to get is that the town of Scagg’s Valley seemed to have a horrible desert drifter problem. The almost-homeless people who lived outside town got approximately one hundred percent of the blame for those old murders.
It reminded me of people just blaming “gypsies” for whatever bad things happened. None of it made sense, but there also were so many more boxes to go through that I knew I’d never manage in a day.
With noon looming, I remembered that Hunter needed his car soon, and gathered my things to take off.
Just as I opened the door, I heard a creaking chair and a hiss.
“Ma’am?” It was Carrell, and he was behind me a lot closer and quicker than he should have been. Suddenly I remembered the weird brain feelings he gave me, particularly when my skin started crawling as he put his fingers on my shoulder. “Will you be coming back to use the materials? Or may I,” he swallowed, and then licked his lips before continuing. “Shelve them?”
The way his voice tilted up at the end of his words was for some reason very unsettling, and I got the distinct feeling that I’d known him or met him before, though I knew that was impossible.
“N... no,” I said. “Not today anyhow.” I shifted a little and his hand fell off my shoulder.
Sometimes it’s the little blessings.
“I see. Well fine. That’s just fine. Tomorrow? From the amount of things you have on your list for me to pull, it’ll take quite some time to go through it all. I’d hate for you to leave unsatisfied in your research.”
I don’t know why, but I needed out then .
“Oh my God! Look at the time,” I said. “I’m late to meeting someone. You’ll have to excuse me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever left a place faster, or with more burning need to get the hell away from someone.
Out in the parking lot, I could finally breathe.
One heavy, deep inhale later, I found myself shaking, almost uncontrollably, as I slid into the car. When I was in and the door was locked, something really damn weird seemed to take hold of me.
I gripped the steering wheel so tight with one hand my fingers started to ache, and when I tried to get the keys out of my purse, my hand trembled so hard that I dropped them twice before getting them anywhere near the ignition.
It was like the air was getting crushed out of my chest. My lungs constricted, my heart pounded, and it was all I could do to get the car in gear and start out of the parking lot.
Almost the instant I began to get further from the courthouse, the tension inside me began to release, little by little, until it completely relaxed when I left the cramped little parking lot and pulled onto the road that led to Hunter’s house.
Instinctively I grabbed my phone and immediately wished that Damon was a reasonable human being with a cell phone. Hunter would have to do.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, you on the way back?” he asked.
“Yeah sorry, I got
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