by A.E. Davis
Thankfully, the library was open and it did have the sixth book in the series for Mom. I got a few of the books I had seen on the Owlcrate unveiling and a few of the books some of the bloggers and booktubers had been talking about. By the time I made it to the checkout counter I had my arms full. I also grabbed a book on Vampires and one on Werewolves hoping for some kind of enlightenment.
The girl at the counter with purple streaked hair and a thumb ring on her left hand looked to be in her early twenties. She was was dressed all in black, had dark eyeliner with a lip and nose piercing—certainly not who I expected to see working in the Library.
“Find everything you were looking for?” She had a slight lisp and I saw a silver stud in her tongue.
“Yep, I did.” I handed her my temporary library card.
“Looks like you got a good haul here.” She lifted up Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. “You’ll have to tell me how this one turns out,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to read it but haven’t had the time yet.
“It does look good,” I agreed.
“Have you seen the movie?” she asked.
“No, I wanted to read the book first.”
“Me too,” she agreed. “I’ll have to catch it on video if the books any good.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”
When she came to the books on Vampires and Werewolves she lifted her eyes to mine and gave me a strange look.
“Stupid book report,” I lied, covering.
“Oh.” She made a face. “I used to hate those too,” she said. “Who do you have for English?”
“Um, Ms. Campbell,” I admitted, not seeing any point in lying.
“Oh God!” she groaned. “You’re stuck with the turtle!” She laughed. “I couldn’t stand her. She’s a real “b”, you know.” She lifted her brows, her eyes glinting strangely under the fluorescent lights.
“Yeah,” I laughed nervously. That was two people now who seemed to know what I called her. Weird.
“Here you go,” she said and handed me out a little cloth bag filled with my books.
“Thanks.” I said.
“Happy Reading!” she called out as I walked toward the door.
“I’ll let you know…” I turned back around and my breath caught. Her face was contorted and she was glaring at me with a really nasty look on her face, like she hated me. I didn’t bother finishing my sentence. I turned and ran out of the library as fast as I could.
forty
After I left the Library, I was feeling unsettled and found myself driving in the opposite direction from home. At first I thought I was just driving to enjoy the nice day. But too soon, I recognized where I was. I was on the same road where Vincent had told me to drop him off the day it was raining. I guess I wanted to see for myself where he lived…where they lived. I didn’t know what I would do when I found it or if I would find it. I drove until I passed dead man Ferguson’s driveway.
It was the same place Vincent had told me to pull over when I had a flat. The same place Viktor took me after the hospital visit and told me about the bear. And it was also the same place where Viktor showed up when I had a flat tire and where Vincent had disappeared from.
At this point I was going on a gut feeling. I swung my car around and pulled back in the driveway. It seemed to be too much of a coincidence but then again what did I know. As soon as I pulled in the driveway, the tall trees blocked out what remained of the sun and cloaked my car in shadows. I stopped and quickly rolled up my windows and locked my doors. Just in case. I pulled out my phone and pepper spray setting them both within reach.
Taking a shuddering breath, I put my car in drive and headed down the uneven pothole ridden driveway. Partway down, most of the trees that had been crowding in against my car had thinned out a bit. Ahead was a small wooden bridge that spanned twenty or so feet over a creek. The water was pretty high on both sides and would easily flood if there was enough rainfall. I thought about what Vincent had said, when he was with me that his driveway was flooded.
“No,” I said, shaking my head, a thought occurring to me. “He couldn’t have meant here…could he?” I stopped just before the bridge and tried to see further back but the road curved to the left so it was impossible to see beyond.
Another uneasy feeling swept over me but stupidity reared its ugly head and I feathered the gas, coasting across the rickety wooden bridge. It creaked and groaned under the weight of my tires and if I turned the wheel slightly to the left or right I would end up in the creek, floating down stream with the current.
It took twenty-five Mississippi’s to get across the bridge and when my tires hit gravel again, I let out a pent up breath.
“What am I doing?” I was beginning to question my sanity but kept going. Old sayings, like curiosity killed the cat, popped into my head more than once and yet, I still kept going. I made it around the curve and slammed on my brakes. In front of me were two huge mortared columns, covered in briars and weeds with a wrought iron gate propped open with an arch across the top connecting it all together. A huge “R” was emblazoned in the middle on an oval plaque.
I gaped at it. “It can’t be…can it?” Did the “R” mean Roth? With shaking hands, I steered in between the columns and headed further down the driveway. It was nicer now, not as daunting as the top of the drive which made me wonder who was doing the upkeep and why? Especially since Viktor and Vincent, had both said the man was dead…didn’t they?
The sky had darkened considerably and I didn’t want to turn on the headlights yet though, in case someone was there. I told myself I would just go around one last turn and then leave. The problem was I didn’t really have a place to turn around. Rounding the last turn, I slammed on the brakes and my wheels skidded in the gravel. I sucked in my breath. Before me was a very old but beautifully kept, Victorian house and in the circular driveway was unmistakably Viktor’s black SUV. I knew this because he was standing at the door, about to get inside.
The passenger door opened up and out stepped Vincent.
“Oh crap!”
