by Jenny Penn
There was a big, colorful centipede decorating the wall in one corner obviously dedicated to the kids and separated by a massive wooden card catalogue that had to date from the previous century. So did the VCR tapes falling out of the wire turn stand sitting the middle of the aisle that led to the librarian’s station.
It was blocked off from the rows of books by a curved countertop, which was just where Daisy found Gina Deens. Sitting on her stool and slouched over the counter, she was flipping through a magazine. Daisy couldn’t help but think that there was some strange irony in that as she approached her.
“Morning,” Daisy called out as she approached, drawing the young, pretty girl’s attention from the magazine she’d been flipping through.
Big, blue eyes blinked at her as if Gina was shocked to see somebody had actually come in, but then she shrugged as if she couldn’t have cared less, and she responded with a pointed lack of enthusiasm.
“Morning. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes.” Daisy came to rest her backpack on the counter and offer the younger woman a bright smile. “I’m hoping you have copies of the local newspaper.”
“The paper keeps most of their copies on file,” the blonde beauty stated with a continued hint of disinterest.
“I’m not looking for current records,” Daisy explained, refusing to allow the other woman’s attitude to crush her own sense of anticipation. She loved research and wasn’t the least bit put off when Ms. Deens frowned.
“You mean like old, old?”
“Yes.” Daisy nodded.
“Well, we keep all the old town records up in the attic,” Ms. Deens explained hesitantly, her gaze narrowing on Daisy. “Not that anybody ever goes up there.”
“Is it off-limits?”
Because Daisy would figure out how to get permission, but the other woman shook her head, her blonde tresses flowing with a graceful sheen Daisy almost envied. Her own dark curls took forever to blow out straight, which was just why she’d let them go natural today and knew they’d frizzed into a messy halo.
“No…just nobody ever goes up there. It’s a mess.”
The other woman hesitated again, her gaze dipping to Daisy’s shoulder and making her conscious of the wound hidden beneath her shirt. It had healed, but the scar remained. So did the antibiotics she’d had to take to assure she didn’t catch any diseases. Diseases like rabies, which would explain all of the strange events of late⎯she was hallucinating. But, if that were true, she’d be dead by now. After all, rabies killed if untreated, and hers hadn’t been.
“If you really want to go up there, then you’ll need this.” The blonde fished a key out from under the counter, along with a flashlight. “And this. The lighting isn’t the greatest…and you might want to watch out for spiders.”
“Spiders don’t scare me,” Daisy assured the woman as she accepted both items, “and when I’m done with your attic, it won’t be a mess.”
“Uh-huh.” Those big blue eyes looked unconvinced, and Daisy could feel them following her as she headed toward the stairs at the back of the library. Whoever Gina Deens was, she was a little odd.
* * * *
Brock felt his phone vibrate and fished it out of his pocket. Tex glanced over at him as he stared at the name flashing on the screen. It was Gina. He hadn’t heard from her in months but could guess why she was calling right then.
Perched high up and hidden in the fat leaves of a magnolia, Brock and Tex had watched Daisy disappear into the small town library and known that she was on the hunt. They’d learned a lot about their mate over the past couple of months as they’d watched over her. One thing had become clear. She was a curious one.
What wasn’t clear was why Daisy’s visit had prompted Gina to call, though he didn’t doubt that was why she was calling. Flipping open his phone, he answered it with a curious, “Hello?”
“Brock?” Gina’s voice sounded, as always, halfway between a purr and a suggestion. Today it was also tinted with concern.
“Yep. What’s up, Gina?”
That drew a look from Tex, who frowned at Brock. He simply shrugged back and waited for Gina to continue.
“Well, it’s just…I had a customer that I thought you might be interested in.” Gina hesitated over her words, and he knew why.
His kind wasn’t liked in town. Hell, they almost never came to this stupid town. The only thing that did bring them was the hunt for a mate. That was also what caused some of the younger women in town to head out of it in search for a good time. For instance, they’d met Gina at the Pickup, which was an aptly named bar about three towns over.
If they’d known where she came from, he and Tex probably wouldn’t have had anything to do with her, but Gina had turned out to be a good sort. At least he’d thought so at the time, but now that it was his mate at stake, he wasn’t as certain of his previous convictions.
So he responded cautiously himself. “Why would you think that?”
“Because she wanted to look at the old records.” Gina paused as if that said it all, but Brock didn’t respond, allowing his silence to pressure her into going further. “She’s not local, either.”
“And?” Brock pressed when Gina didn’t continue.
“And I know what you and Tex are,” Gina snapped in a hushed tone. “What happens when strange people come to town asking questions they shouldn’t?”
“We’re not going to hurt the girl,” Brock quickly assured Gina, knowing the kind of rumors that circulated around their kind. Most were lies, and thankfully, Gina seemed to understand that.
“I didn’t doubt that.” Gina snorted. “I know what kind of men you and Tex are, but I also know what happens to strangers when they ask the wrong questions.”
So did Brock, and he knew more than that. He knew what happened to them when they fell asleep. What he hadn’t suspected was how big and pure Gina’s heart actually was.
“I just wanted you to know that I could help…if you wanted.”
Brock smiled. Gina was as sweet as she was pretty. While he felt a certain warmth for her, it wasn’t the same as he felt for Daisy. His heart belonged to her already, and he was getting tired of waiting.
“Actually, there is something you could do.”
* * * *
Daisy began to wade through over two hundred years’ worth of piled-up papers. It was a task that could have taken days, but she didn’t have that long, not as long as she’d like, and by the time she broke for lunch, she had a notebook overfilled with notes and details and names of people to interview, along with sites to check out.
One of those people was the sheriff, who she just happened to run into at the local bakery, which served up hot sandwiches, along with fudge and sweet lemonade. Big and burly with a heavy touch of gray peppering through his dark hair, the sheriff didn’t seem to be the least bit bothered by Daisy as she introduced herself.
“Chief Daryll.”
The man responded to the hand Daisy offered him with a firm grip and one good shake. “Nice to meet you, Miss Shields. Help yourself to a seat.”
The sheriff gestured to the other side of the table, and Daisy didn’t argue with the other man. “Thank you very much, sir. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
“Ah.” The big man sucked in a pointed breath and let it out slowly with a smile. “I’m just digesting, a delicate state to be sure, but I think I can manage a little conversation. So, what can I do for you, Miss Shields?”
“Well, sir, I’m working on my dissertation.” That was the story Daisy had dreamed up to justify just what she was doing there in Lake Adahy, though the truth was that her dissertation was already done and awaiting approval.
“Is that a fact?” the chief cut in before Daisy could continue on. His chin lifted along with his coffee cup.
“Yes, sir,” Daisy answered and quickly moved on, hoping to get the rest of her explanation out before the other man finished his sip. “I’m actually working on the idea that all folklore is
universal, and you find repetitions of theme and—”
“So you’re into folklore, huh?” The sheriff’s cup clinked back into his saucer as he shook his head at Daisy. “I don’t go in for that kind of nonsense myself, but I know you young kids love all that horror stuff. You know, when I was young, nobody paid no mind to it.”
“It?” Daisy broke in, sensing the sheriff could wander on for a while.
“The Devil’s Peak. That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Daisy smiled, hoping to stay on the sheriff’s good side as she pressed. “I understand that it formed after a trading post disappeared?”
“Hmm.” The sheriff nodded. “That’s the legend.”
“And what do you think really happened?”
The sheriff shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. What I do know is that it’s a dangerous hike to take. So whatever your curiosity is, heed my advice. Don’t go up that mountain.”
That warning sent a shiver through her that had Daisy feeling cold all of a sudden.
“You see, there are men that live up there on that mountain, Miss Shields, and they don’t take kindly to interlopers. You understand?” The sheriff pinned her with a hard look.
“Yes, sir.” Daisy did, and while his words left her unnerved, she knew she still had to go up that mountain. It felt like her destiny.
“Yeah, right.” The sheriff snorted and shook his head. “That’s what they all say.”
“Who?”
The sheriff didn’t answer that question, just frowned and pulled out his wallet. He tossed a couple bills on to the table and nodded at her. “You have to forgive me, Miss Shields. I have a busy afternoon to get started on.”
“Of course.” Daisy smiled and watched him saunter out of the bakery.
“Where is the chief going?” The waitress stopped to shoot Daisy a suspicious look.
“He has a busy afternoon,” Daisy answered, drawing a snort from the waitress, who shook her head and picked up the coffee cup the sheriff had left half-full.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Actually, a menu would⎯” Daisy stopped talking, knowing that the waitress had stopped listening. Her eyes had cut over Daisy’s shoulder to the window behind her and beyond. They rounded with a look of horror. “What? What is it?”
She glanced out the window but didn’t see anything. There was the street outside, the old man walking his dog, the young mother pushing a stroller, and a big white owl sitting on the top of the light pole, looking down at them.
Daisy froze, feeling her breath catch at the sight.
That damn thing seemed to be following her wherever she went. It was really starting to creep Daisy out. She tried to ignore the bird, but she could feel it watching her as she ordered up a sandwich and a tea.
Chapter 2
The owl was still there, still watching as Daisy finished both. Tired of being stalked, she paid her bill and went outside to cross the street and confront the stupid bird.
“Okay,” Daisy declared as she came to a stop beneath the large bird. “I’m tired of you trailing me. So what is it that you want?”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
Daisy turned with that warning to find a young boy standing there under the barbershop’s awning. His hair was freshly shorn, close to his head in an unattractive but, no doubt, practical cut that matched the seriousness in his dark eyes as he stared unblinkingly at Daisy, much like the bird overhead.
“Excuse me?” Daisy stepped up onto the sidewalk and out of the cobbled street as a car rolled slowly past. “And why is that?”
“Because it is haunted.” Finally the kid blinked and glanced up at the owl, whose head had turned ever so slightly so that it could continue to track Daisy’s movements.
“Haunted? Really?”
“Mmmm.” The boy nodded soberly before imparting a little bit of grim rumor. “It can’t be killed.”
“And why would you want to kill it?” Daisy scowled, not caring for that thought at all.
“Because it caries your soul away while you sleep. It makes you one of them.”
The boy stressed that last word in a whisper as his gaze darted back up toward the owl, as if he expected it to attack at any second. It didn’t, but Daisy was intrigued. The boy’s fear was clearly real. Whatever story he’d been told, he believed. That was just the kind of tale Daisy was looking for.
“Them? Who are they?” Daisy pressed the kid, but she didn’t get a chance to answer before the door opened behind him and a woman reached out to latch onto the kid’s collar.
“I thought I told you to wait in here, Thomas!” the woman snapped, jerking him back into the barbershop.
She barely paused to spare Daisy a glance, but she did cast one up at the owl before slamming the door. It had a glass insert, and Daisy could see her scolding Thomas and even caught a few bits and pieces of her tirade, enough to know that she’d warned the kid against going near that owl.
That had Daisy turning back to offer the owl a quick smile. “I guess you are not very popular…and you better watch for stray bullets.”
That warning actually seemed to get a response, as the owl took flight. He swooped low enough to have Daisy instinctively ducking, even though the bird didn’t even come close. He lifted back up to land on the next light post. Daisy considered that, if she were the fanciful sort, she’d have thought the bird was playing with her.
She was the fanciful sort.
Without thought, she found herself following after the owl. It glided from post to post, leading her on a chase that felt strangely pointed as the neat rows of buildings gave way to lushly covered knolls that were speckled with large gray boulders. Some had crumbled into smaller rocks, and others faced the world with their chips and scars proudly displayed.
The owl settled onto a sharp peak among one of the piles of rubble and stared unblinkingly out across the tall grass. The fine stalks of green and gold grew so thick that they rustled as they waved in the wind. Every now and again, as the straws bent to the side, they revealed tiny glimpses of something black and rusted out ahead.
Daisy’s curiosity peaked once again, and, feeling as if she were wading into a dream, she lumbered through the thigh-high weeds until he came upon a small, failing fence that surrounded what appeared to be a single tombstone. While the ornate wrought iron that had protected the simply carved piece of granite had fallen to the ravages of time, the headstone still rose tall and proud out of the earth.
Sally Mosby
There were no dates, no indication whatsoever of who Sally Mosby was or even what she was doing out there in the middle of the field. With a sense of sadness for the girl whose fate had left her to rot alone for all eternity, Daisy found herself kneeling down to brush the dust from the letters, which had clearly been chipped by hand into the hard stone. Her fingers lingered over the rough indentions as she felt something shift inside her. Daisy knew it wasn’t the long-lost Sally Mosby that she pitied, but herself.
She was lonely.
Only she didn’t feel it in that moment.
Daisy stilled as that strange sense of being watched sent another shiver down her spine. She started as the owl let out a shrill shriek and took flight, clearly agitated by something. It was the first time she’d ever seen the bird lose its cool. That alone would have unnerved her, but the sense of being surrounded as she rose up to her feet left her damn near terrified and wondering if she wasn’t losing his mind.
The grass shifted and swayed in the breeze, a thick coat covering the ground and capable of concealing many secrets. In that moment, Daisy was convinced that there was something a whole lot worse than secrets to be concealed. She stood there, still as stone beside Sally Mosby’s grave, until the terror creeping up her spine finally broke her, and she tore off through the grass at full speed.
Nothing gave chase, yet when she reached the edge, Daisy could still feel the predatory track of an invisible gaze. Something was out there, watching h
er or watching over Sally Mosby, but it was there.
Of that Daisy was certain.
* * * *
Tex sighed as he watched Daisy run away. Every night, they visited her in her dreams. Every night they saved her, and yet she still feared them. It was aggravating. It was frustrating. Worse, it was terrifying. Soon, the moon would be full and it would be time for her to face her dreams. If she ran from them then, there would be no saving her.
That was her challenge to overcome, a challenge they weren’t allowed to warn her about. Long ago, the great god Malsumis had made it clear that mates had to be trusted. To be trusted, they had to trust. Blind faith. That was what this was all about. That was what Malsumis demanded.
Tex was beginning to fear that it was too tall of an order for Daisy.
He watched as Brock slunk back out of the tall grass and shifted before the pile of clothes he’d shed only minutes before when he’d decided to test Daisy and see if her attitude had lightened in the slightest, but she hadn’t even given him a chance to get close. The prey was spooked.
“She ran,” Brock stated, as if Tex hadn’t seen her flee. “This is not going well.”
“No, it really isn’t.” Tex sighed. “At least we’ve got Gina on our side.”
Brock shot him a look as he finished zipping up his pants. “You don’t feel a little awkward about that?”
“More than a little,” Tex admitted.
They were trusting her, trusting a human. That went against their nature. More than that, it went against history, but right then, Tex was willing to work with anybody, including the devil, as long as it would save Daisy. Now he knew what Nodin had felt like in his final desperate hours, but Nodin had chosen poorly, and there had been no saving his mate. Tex wouldn’t allow what had happened to Sally to happen to Daisy.
Glancing out across the field, he shook his head.
Sally Mosby had suffered the most horrible of fates, but the greatest travesty was that the humans had refused to bury her on holy ground. Neither was his kind allowed to exhume her body and bury it as it should be up at the peak. Malsumis had forbidden it, decreeing that Nodin should hang for all eternity alone as he’d chosen to hang in life.
