by Mac Flynn
The man slid into the booth seat opposite me and smiled. He was young and handsome with short, jet-black hair and sparkling blue eyes. His complexion was a little on the pale side, but his body was muscular and in shape. Not rock-solid, but something a girl could snuggle up to without getting poked and prodded by abs.
"I don't believe I've seen you around here. A new arrival?" he asked me.
I snorted. "More like a castaway. The storm on the pass drove me here."
"I see. I hope everyone's made your stay comfortable," he commented.
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you the mayor?"
He laughed and shook his head. "No, and I wouldn't want the job. I'm just a simple hunter, a scouter, if you would."
I blinked at him. "A what?"
"I help find lost things in the woods," he explained.
I glanced out the window at the trees beyond the town. "That must be a pretty lucrative business around here."
"It has its rewards, but you haven't answered my question," he commented.
I turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. "I thought I did."
He smiled. "Well, maybe it's an unanswered one. You see, you haven't told me your name."
"Isn't it the man who's supposed to introduce himself first?" I pointed out.
His smile broadened and he held out his hand for a shake. "The name's John Huntley, but most people just call me Orion."
I grasped his hand and gave it a shake. "Trixie Lyal."
He raised an eyebrow. "Lyal? That's an unusual name."
"Well, it's the only one I've got, so I guess I'll keep it," I quipped.
Orion retracted his hand and looked me over. "You ever thought about trading that name in for a newer model?"
I feigned shock. "Mr. Huntley-"
"Orion," he corrected me.
"-I do believe you are trying to ask me to marry you," I finished.
"Maybe I am," he teased. He scooted his gut against the table and lowered his voice. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
I leaned back against the seat and smiled. "Another one?"
He grinned. "I could go at this all night if you want."
I shuddered. Now I knew how one of my victims in the newspaper industry felt. "Please don't."
"Then this'll be the last one. How'd a beautiful woman like you get to be lost in a place like this?" he wondered. "Most people wait until after the snow storm to get here."
"I wish I would've been a little more ahead of the snow," I commented. "But if you must know-"
"I must," he teased.
"-I was on my way to a job on the other side of the mountain. I'm a reporter," I told him.
Some of the humor vanished from his face and he raised an eyebrow. "What kind of reporter?"
I wagged a finger at him. "You said that'd be the last question."
"Can't a guy get a free lie every full moon?" he wondered.
"I'm sure you met your quota the day after the last full moon," I teased. My eyes noticed movement out of the corner on my right, and I looked at the diner counter. The black cat was back. I jerked my thumb towards the counter and its feline inhabitant. "What's with the cat, anyway?"
Orion followed my gaze and smiled. "Mab? She's an old fixture around here," he explained to me.
I furrowed my brow. "Isn't that the name of the owner of the diner?"
His eyes studied my face. "Who told you that?"
"There you go with those questions again," I scolded him.
"Let's just say your question refilled my count by one," he suggested.
I snorted. "I've dealt with politicians who were less slick than you."
"I grease myself every morning, but you still didn't answer my question," he reminded me.
I jerked my head in the direction of the motel. "The owner of the motel told me."
Orion raised an eyebrow. I was starting to notice a pattern. "Troy?"
"That's the name he gave me to get me a free slice of apple pie," I told him. Orion leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. He studied me with an unblinking, and unnerving, stare. "What? Do I have something on my face?"
He smiled and shook his head. "Only a beauty unsurpassed in these parts of the woods, but I think I'm keeping you from your food."
At that moment the door behind the counter opened and Mab stepped into the seating area. In her hands was a tray with a large plate of spaghetti with bread and a coke. She passed by the counter and I noticed the cat had again vanished. Mab set the tray in front of me and glanced at Orion with mischievous eyes.
"Have you found something to your liking, Sour?" she asked him.
I blinked at him. "'Sour?'"
He shrugged as he stood. "It's another of my nicknames. Anyway, I'd better be going." He smiled and nodded his head at me. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lyal."
"Trixie," I corrected him.
He chuckled. "Trixie, then. Goodnight."
"'Night," I replied.
Orion turned his back on me and left. Mab returned to the depths of the diner kitchen, and I dug into my meal. It was pretty good, maybe even top notch. I just hoped the bill wouldn't be the top of my traveling budget. My new company hadn't given me any money to move so the motel and food bills came out of my own pocket.
Something on my right caught my attention. I glanced at the counter and found that the black cat had returned. It watched me with those bright yellow eyes, and occasionally its tail twitched.
"What?" I asked it. The cat replied by blinking nice and slow. I picked out a large meatball, sucked off the delicious sauce and held out the ball of meat to the ball of fur. "You want some?"
Mab jumped down and strutted over to me. This cat would've made a great runway model for a line of furs. It stopped a foot short of the table and sat down. I tossed the ball. The cat neatly leaned forward and snatched the meat in midair.
I smiled. "You're pretty good, but that act would've gotten you into a lot of trouble in your namesake a couple hundred years ago." The cat's eyes narrowed and it let out an audible growl. I held up my palms. "Hey, don't blame me. I wasn't there."
The cat stood, spun around so I got a good look at its 'cute' end, and stalked off. It resumed its position on the counter, but kept its back to me. I shrugged and resumed my eating.
I put down my fork a few minutes later and patted my stomach. The plate was licked clean, or nearly so. Right on cue Mab came through the rear door, and again the cat was gone. It was almost like her own cat didn't like her company. Mab picked up the tray and plopped down the bill.
I picked up the slip of paper and raised an eyebrow. "Only five bucks?" I asked her.
"And if you would, cash is preferable," she told me.
I shrugged and reached into my back pocket for my wallet. "All right, but-" The careening of a truck into the front wall interrupted my looking-a-gift-horse-in-the-mouth attitude.
The front wall exploded in a mess of glass and splintered wood. We both ducked under the table and bonked heads as the remains of the wall fell down on our heads like splintered hail. The chaos lasted for about three seconds before everything quieted down and the dust stopped falling.
Mab reversed her course from beneath the table and rose to her feet. I crawled out after her and looked around at the destruction. The front booths were a mangled mess, the wall had a gaping hole where the door formerly stood, and the bottom of the door itself peeked over the top of the counter. Snow from the sidewalk flowed a few feet onto the linoleum floor.
The cause of the destruction, an old white pickup, sat at an angle with the driver's door facing us. The window of the door was mostly shattered with only a few jagged bits on the bottom.
"That's the last time I look a gift horse in the mouth. . ." I muttered.
Mab strode past me and to the truck. I followed close behind. The male driver was slumped over the wheel. The man wore some sort of brown fur coat and had long, shaggy h
air. His hands that lay on the wheel were also incredibly hairy and ended in long, sharp nails.
Mab froze two feet short of the door. Her arm flew out and stopped my progress. "Wait," she ordered me.
I nodded at the driver. "He might need-" A groan interrupted me. I was starting to see a pattern of shut-up.
The driver shifted and lifted his head. I gasped. His face was a grotesque mix of hair, blood and dust. His brown eyes drooped and he swayed from side to side. He turned to us and narrowed his eyes. His lips curled back in an ugly snarl that revealed some really sharp teeth.
"Barrett," Mab called out.
The man didn't reply. He ignored the door and tried to climb out the window. His seat belt kept him in his seat. He looked down and snarled at the strap. The man's hairy paws fumbled and pawed at the belt, but never went for the clasp.
Mab turned to me and grabbed my shoulders. "Do not attempt to approach him again," she ordered me as she pushed me back to the end of the counter near the kitchen door.
"What the hell is wrong with him?" I questioned her.
She ignored me and used an old land line phone stuck in the wall. The phone rang for a few seconds before someone picked up. "This is Mab. Please send two cars to my diner. Barrett crashed his truck into the front wall and may be under the influence." She paused and shook her head. "No, not of alcohol. The Sickening." Another pause, and she nodded. "I will try my best, but I have no antidote here. Goodbye." She hung up and glanced at me. "If you prefer you may-" She was interrupted by our furry friend in the pickup.
The man managed to get out of his seat belt. He crawled through the broken window. His blood dripped onto the floor as he stood on all fours. His body stretched and tore his pants and shirt. Fur poked out from the torn clothing. The man-thing glanced from Mab to me, and back to me.
Mab rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me. She pulled me behind her and scowled at the man-thing. "Barrett, you must remain calm," she ordered him.
The man snarled and stalked towards us. Saliva dripped from his sharp teeth. His long nails clacked on the linoleum. Mab backed us up towards the kitchen door. The man tensed and leapt at us. His outstretched, clawed hands aimed for our necks.
"Barrett!"
CHAPTER 4
