“And?” Nate held the top wire of the fence down and climbed over it. “It’s not like we’re the first people in the world to test positive for demonic contact.”
Ben shot him a dark look. Nate was not taking this seriously enough! Not only that, but there was no way Ben was getting over the fence that easily―and they were still within eyeshot of the police trailer. “Demonic contact alone is bad enough to get you on a watch list. Demonic contact while being present at a site of a demonic-caused death? You have to see how bad it is.”
Nate put his hands in his pockets as he waited for Ben. “Nothing a phone call to Department Seven can’t fix.”
“Department Seven?” Ben took his eyes off the fence to stare at Nate.
“Gunn. He’s some kind of demon, right?” Nate didn’t give Ben time to process all the things wrong with his statement before continuing. “I spent a couple of days rooming with the guy, you got interrogated by him for hours. That’s got to be where the traces come in. And since Gunn’s the one they’ll be calling in New Camden, there’s no way they can miss it.”
Ben bit back the first thing on his tongue. It was not Nate’s fault that Little River lacked even cursory supernatural education. “Okay. First thing. Gunn is not a demon. Lemurs are demonic, not demons.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Demons exist elsewhere. You can call it another dimension, another reality, another plane―”
“Hell?”
“Or hell,” Ben conceded. He took hold of the fence with both hands. “It’s a hotly debated topic, even without bringing religion into it. Especially since so little is actually known about how demons work. They interact with this world through dreams and visions or―in extreme circumstances―can possess an animal or person. This suggests there is some force actively preventing them from existing in our reality.”
Nate put out a hand to steady the fence as Ben climbed over it. “But if they can possess someone―”
“Evidence suggests that it is extremely difficult for them to hold down a possession without constant sustenance. If an exorcism isn’t performed in time, the demon ends up cannibalizing its host in its attempt to prolong its presence here.”
The fence wobbled alarmingly as Nate shuddered. “Oh gross. That’s―”
“The demons don’t enjoy it either.” Ben hastily jumped down. “Which is why they prefer to work through agents.” He cast a look back to see if any of the forensics team were looking their way.
“Agents?”
If Ben’s ignominious descent had been witnessed, the police were keeping it quiet. Ben turned back to Nate. “Someone who has made a pact with a demon is an agent. There is a contract, usually signed. The common terms are that the agent will supply the demon with something he wants―”
“Souls?”
“Possibly souls,” Ben agreed reluctantly. He started walking towards the house. “Life energy and suffering are also strong contenders.”
Nate matched his slow pace. “So why do demons have such a bad rep?”
Ben pressed his mouth flat. “Outside the boundaries of this reality, they have access to power and energy that allows them to promise their agent almost anything they want. So whenever you deal with a demon, you’ve got the double problem of dealing with the agent, too.”
“How does the demon even come to an agreement with an agent if it can’t exist here unless it’s killing itself?”
“You know the medieval woodcuts of sorcerers. Doctor Faustus, that sort of thing?” Ben abruptly remembered who he was talking to. “Any movie with a demon in it. There was a circle drawn on the ground with weird symbols, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Drawn correctly, the circle both acts as a portal for the demon and screens it from the forces acting against it long enough for it to accomplish its business.”
“And drawn incorrectly?”
That was the thing about Nate. He hadn’t been drilled in magic precautions, so he didn’t know that there was no way a practitioner would allow himself to be caught out by a demon―
But most agents weren’t practitioners… Ben frowned. “Um. I guess it depends where they messed up. They might get pulled into the other side, or the circle might just fail to work at all.”
“Could it ever trap the demon here?”
Ben shook his head. “Demons have had centuries of existence. The ones that made it this long know every trick in the book. Capturing a demon in this reality is thought to be the only way to destroy one.”
“Only thought to be?”
Ben nodded. “Far as I know, no one’s ever pulled it off. Demons are too cautious.”
Nate frowned. “If they’re so cautious, how come we had contact with one? I definitely don’t remember summoning any demons.”
“It’s more likely we’ve had contact with an agent,” Ben said. “And significant contact.” He bit his lip. “Have you signed any contracts?”
“What, like to give away my soul? Do you take me for an idiot?”
“Any contract signed with an active demonic agent would leave an influence. Whether it was related to their demonic contract or not. Demons work through contracts and promises.”
“There was my employee contract at Century. You’re not suggesting that, right? ’Cause Denise is scary, but she’s no―” Nate caught himself. “Fuck me.”
Ben placed his hand on Nate’s arm. “It’s all right, Nate. It takes a while for a death to sink in.”
“And I found her. You’d think―” Nate took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just… Denise is one of those people you think will always be there. And now she’s not… I just keep forgetting.”
Ben winced.
They were silent as they walked. Ben thought back over the contracts he’d signed. His employment with ARX, numerous nondisclosures, every time he’d borrowed specialist equipment―even the code of conduct at his university! Where to even start investigating those?
“What was the second thing?”
“What?”
Nate unhooked the gate that led into the barn paddock. “You said ‘first thing.’ Gunn is demonic, not a demon―I still don’t get what that means.”
“He exists in this reality,” Ben reminded Nate. “Much as we wish he didn’t. Lemurs feed directly on human suffering, but unlike real demons, they don’t need a conduit to do it, they just absorb it. Gunn started out being possessed by an existing lemur―”
“He told me.” Nate shuddered. “And there’s nothing we can do to help?”
“Lemurs are notoriously hard to get rid of,” Ben said. “And with Gunn’s position at Department Seven―in many ways, Gunn is Department Seven―any attempt to destroy him would probably set supernatural law enforcement back decades.”
“I wasn’t talking kill him!”
“That’s the only way to separate Gunn and the lemur, Nate. And even then, you’d have to do it right.” Ben frowned. What had they been discussing? “Anyway. Gunn’s not responsible for us testing positive for demonic contact―and even if he was, Ethan never met him.” He glanced at Nate. “You’re going to have a hard time explaining why your twin tests positive for demonic contact that you made.”
“I’ll think of something.” Nate looked straight ahead at the house in front of them. “In the meantime, you can―”
Ben kicked him in the leg. “Tell me to relax and you’ll regret it.”
Nate came to a complete stop.
“Nate?”
“I don’t recognize the SUV in the drive.”
Ben looked at it. It was clearly well used, a dusty red model with dried mud on its tires. “It could be a plainclothes car…”
He and Nate shared a glance and simultaneously started towards the house. Ben was sure the same thought must be going through both their minds. Ethan!
Nate was first through the door and into the kitchen, Ben only a second behind.
But if the woman lounging at the table with Ethan was an officer, she’d missed the memo about blending in. Ben would not have thought twice about her heavy combat boots, low riding jeans and midriff top in New Camden, but in Little River, the outfit seemed scandalous. Or was that the look of obvious appreciation she gave Nate, her gaze lingering over his powerful arms? “And this must be your other son. You sure know how to raise them right, ma’am.”
Ma put a plate of cookies on the table. “Nate and his friend, Ben. Boys, George here is hiking the trails and stopped to get directions.”
“Hiking?” Ben looked skeptically at the woman’s outfit. She’s dressed for a night out clubbing―not mountain trails!
“I told you about the national park, right? We’re actually listed in the official brochure the Parks and Recreation Association gives hikers.” Nate pulled a chair up to the table, taking a cookie. “We get people stopping by for directions, topping up their water bottle or just leaving their cars here all the time. We’ve got a guest book and everything.”
Ben shot Nate a look. He can’t be buying this―can he? “Do you do a lot of hiking, George?” He gave the combat boots a pointed glance.
She grinned at him. “Not since I was a kid. My dad used to drag us out to the mountains every summer. Back then, I hated it―a week without MTV? A fate worse than death! But lately, I’ve been feeling nostalgic. I thought a couple of days collecting blisters and mosquitoes should fix that.”
“You only need to worry about mosquitoes here by the river, and if you’re going to the lake, here.” Nate tapped the map. “Doing a day-hike?”
George nodded. A tightly knotted bandana covered her hair, the sole concession to hiking. “Yeah. At least, that was the plan. Now I’m not so sure. Your mother was just telling me there’s been a murder.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Nate said immediately. “Guy responsible will be long gone.” He nodded at Ben. “Tell her what you told the police, Ben.”
Ma looked up sharply. Even Ethan stopped chewing his cookie to consider Ben.
Thanks, Nate. Ben turned to George. “The victim’s body was placed in the field in a way that it was obvious he hadn’t died there.” Ben recounted the other evidence he’d noted, conscious that Ma hadn’t moved. “So it seems likely that the body was dumped here and the murderer as far away from here as he could get.”
George whistled, leaning back in her chair. “You don’t think he could be hiding out in the forest? I mean, it’s right there.”
“It’s possible,” Ben conceded. “But if that was his plan, he’d hide the body somewhere it wouldn’t be found. Once he gets into the forest, he’s on foot. The police have dogs and helicopters.” Ben shook his head. “The police are already searching the woods for anything suspicious. Leaving the body in an open space so close to the woods makes no sense at all―unless he is using it to take attention away from his actual location.”
George eyed Ben. “Wow. You know your murderers.”
Ben shrugged. “I’m from New Camden.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
“So are you.” Nate nodded towards the porch. “I noticed Florida plates on your car.” He pulled the chair next to him out and nudged it towards Ben.
“Miami,” George said. “God. It’s the worst in summer. You want to talk mosquitoes? Let me tell you about all forty-five species we got. And then there’s the humidity…”
Ben sat, looking at the papers spread out over the table. There was a pile of glossy brochures with the National Parks and Recreation Association logo on them offering a rundown of all the state had to offer adventurous hikers. Other brochures introduced the specific highlights of the Little River and Rockford trails and nearby tourist attractions. A map was spread out all over the table, and beneath it was a rather battered looking exercise book. Ben opened it and discovered a list of names, dates and comments. The guest book?
“Dad used to take us to Big Cypress,” George continued. “But as we got older, he got more adventurous. We climbed Springer Mountain and Blood Mountain as teens, but this is the first time I’ve hiked this far North. Any local sights I should know about?”
“In Little River?” Nate laughed.
“Turtle Ridge Falls,” Ma said. “Especially in autumn. The fall leaves…”
“This time of year, the view from Mt. Baldtop is the best. On a clear day, you can see for miles. And at night, the city lights in the distance look amazing.”
“Nathan!” Ma slapped his arm. “What are you doing climbing Mt. Baldtop at night?”
“You don’t have to worry about your son, surely.” George let her gaze rest appreciatively on Nate’s arms. “I’m sure even a bear would think twice about messing with him.”
“Not bears,” Ethan said unexpectedly, taking another cookie. “Girls.”
George raised her cup to her mouth, but it didn’t quite hide her smile. “The local make-out spot? I want to hear more about this. Seriously―I’m all about local history. Ghost stories, random traditions, stuff like that. A place stops being just another name on a map when you know its stories.”
“Does Little River even have any stories?” If Nate was embarrassed, he was doing a really good job of not showing it.
“Only stories I can think of are about people, not places,” Ma agreed. “And they’re all long gone.”
“I heard something about a tree―”
“Ethan, if you can’t keep away from those cookies, I’m sending you outside.” Ma dusted her hands off on her apron. “You can check on the hens. Poor things must be so confused, wondering why they’re still shut in the coop. You can take them some fresh greens.”
Ethan pushed back his seat with reluctance.
“And Nate, you were going to run into town for me.”
Nate blinked, hand outstretched to take a cookie. “But Ma―”
“No buts. Your guest needs to eat. And it will be nice for Ben to get off the farm.”
“Chores?” George grimaced. “That’s too bad. I was hoping I could get some company for my hike…” She trailed off hopefully.
Ben snorted. “You’ll have no lack of police company.”
George took a rueful sip of coffee. “True. Though, I can’t imagine they’ll be the best company.” She hesitated. “You’re sure it wasn’t…someone local? It’s just that stocking up on snacks at the local store, I saw a flyer about another murder.”
“That’s an old case,” Ma said. “A very sad one, but years ago now…” She shook her head. “That was a stranger, too.”
“You’re sure?” George tilted her head. “The guy at the shop said it was unsolved.”
Ma snorted. “And a good many other things too, I imagine. If Dan worked as hard as his mouth does, he’d be a rich man. No, that poor girl’s death shocked everyone. But in a small place like Rockford or Little River, things don’t stay secret. If there had been anything to know, anything to find out, it would have come out by now. That proves it had to be someone from out of town. Just like this new murder. After all, the dead man was a stranger.”
“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.” George’s tone was dry.
“What I mean to say is that ten to one it was a stranger that killed him, and they’re already miles away. People ’round here aren’t the kind to get caught up in something like this.” Ma took the seat Ethan had vacated. “Nate, you might go and see if your brother’s got anything to add to the list.”
“Do this, get that…” Nate shook his head but went in search of Ethan obediently.
“Ben, why don’t you wait for Nate outside?” Ma suggested. “Now, George. If it’s a short hike you’re after…”
I’m being paranoid, Ben told himself. There’s no way Ma is trying to get me out of the house, any more than there’s any reason this woman isn’t an ordinary hiker. He stood.
George leaned forward to look where Ma pointed at the map. The loose ends of her bandana fell forward, revealing two darkly colored bumps on her neck. The edges were jagged, but the scars were an angry color, as if they were fresh.
Ben recognized the marks at once. For a moment he saw a flash of fangs, smelt the copper tang of freshly spilled blood mingled with the foul decay of the creature that spilled it. A revenant bite. He looked at George, comparing the map in her brochure with the map Ma showed her. Who is this woman?
✩✩✩
Whoever George was, she had an interesting collection of trash in her car. Ben peered through the passenger window. The SUV was littered with Tropical Pollo takeout boxes and empty soda cans, while the dashboard had a stick of lip gloss and a pair of sunglasses dangled from the rearview mirror. The front passenger seat had a stack of books, but the folded-out map above them prevented Ben from seeing what was underneath. It could have been guidebooks. It could have been something more sinister.
Ben glanced back at the house to check no one was watching and tried the door. It was locked. Naturally. No hunter would be that careless with the tools of her trade. Even one who took such a reckless approach to blending in. But that was the hallmark of a hunter―recklessness.
The back seat had a backpack and bottles of drinking water. Prepared for a hike? There was a pair of binoculars and a bird watching book beside them. For a moment, Ben felt doubt.
The revenant scar flashed back into his mind. Ben’s mouth tightened. Very few people walked away from a bite like that. He continued to the back window.
A blanket was carelessly tossed into the back, along with spare tires and a metallic box that might easily contain a breakdown kit. Might. Ben’s mouth twisted as he spotted what the box rested on. A wooden stake had no place in changing a tire and was too short to prop open a car hood and too thick to act as a tent peg. Nope, there was only one explanation for it―and for the crucifix not entirely hidden by the blanket. George was a hunter.
Ben shaded the window glass with his hand, trying to see what was within. If he knew what George had in her arsenal, he’d know what she was hunting―
“Take a photo. It’ll last longer.”
Ben’s head whipped up.
George sauntered casually down the porch steps. A map was tucked into her pocket and her arms were folded. “No, the car is not stolen, if that is what you’re thinking―”
Ben folded his own arms. “You’re a hunter.”
George’s eyebrows raised. “So? That’s not against the law either.”
“You came to this farm under false pretenses.” Ben stared her down. “You aren’t a hiker. You lied, took full advantage of the Grangers’ hospitality, in order to what? To spy on them―”
George leaned against the SUV, rolling her eyes. “You do know how a supernatural investigation works, or do I have to spell it out? Yeah, I’m a hunter. But before I hunt, I need to get my facts. It might surprise you to know this, but most supernaturals don’t roll up, card in hand, introducing themselves―”
“There’s nothing to investigate here.”
George gave Ben a long look and then pointedly shifted her gaze to the trailer in the distance. “The police presence disagrees with you.”
“It’s like I said inside. No one on this farm’s involved in the murder.”
“What makes you so certain?”
Ben took out his wallet. He held out a crisp business card. “ARX. Take my word as a professional. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
George took the card, a smirk playing on her lips. “So sorry. I had no idea I was dealing with a professional.”
Ben folded his wallet away. He could ignore her needling as long as it got her off the farm. “Take it from me. The Grangers are not part of this case.”
George turned his card over before putting it in her pocket. “So what are you doing here?”
“That’s unrelated.” Ben fought the urge to snatch the card back. Revealing his identity was a calculated risk. He just hoped that ARX’s scorn for freelancers would prevent the woman from getting too far in looking him up―if she even went that far.
“Don’t want me poaching your mark? Fine. I can take a hint.” George climbed into the driver’s seat, closing the door after her.
Ben stepped back, allowing her to back past him.
As she drew level, George wound her window down. “So. What’s your professional opinion of the Old Winnaker place then?”
What? Ben frowned. “I don’t have one.”
George smiled saccharinely at him. “No? And I thought ARX was supposed to be top of the game. Maybe I should be giving you my card.” She laughed, rolling up the window.
Ben watched her back out onto the highway, before turning back to the house. Instead of feeling relief that the hunter was gone, he felt uneasy. In their brief encounter, the woman had been difficult to gauge. Who knew what she would do―
As Ben reached the top of the stairs, he realized he had a more immediate problem. Ma stood in the doorway. Her hand was locked around the door handle, her knuckles white. She’d been standing there some time. Long enough to hear my encounter with George?
Ben looked up at the angry set of Ma’s mouth. She heard.
✩✩✩
“So.” Nate swung himself up into the driver’s seat of the truck. “The good news is that Ma is not kicking you out.”
Ben crossed his arms. He’d been sitting in the truck for so long the seat stuck to his skin. “Don’t sound so cheerful, Nate! I’ve been waiting for you and Ma to finish talking for ages―” He faltered. “Not kicking me out?”
Nate shook his head, still grinning. “Nope. She isn’t happy that you used to work for ARX, but I emphasized that ARX helps people who are victims of supernatural attacks and that you’re retired.” Nate paused. “I also told her that you’d wanted to tell her, but I’d told you not to.” He pulled the door closed behind him. “She’s still not happy―”
Ben snorted. “I noticed.”
“But I told her I’d invited you here to help you put your past behind you and pointed out that it was really lucky we had you here just now.” Nate let his hands rest on the steering wheel. “If we were really involved in this murder, no way we’d invite a supernatural investigator to come visit.”
Ben bit his lip. Did they have that entire conversation dancing around the facts? He was no longer surprised at how long he’d waited. “Did you tell her the truth about how we met? And what happened in New Camden?”
Nate winced. “What? You think I’m crazy?”
“You’re crazy not to!” Ben turned so that he faced him. “Nate, you can’t hide that from your family!”
“I have to.”
“This is how we got into this mess in the first place―you not talking to your mom!”
“Speaking of talking―is there something we need to discuss?” Nate twisted in his seat to look at Ben.
“Us?”
Nate’s gaze rested on Ben. “Ma said that she overheard you running off the hiker that was here before.”
“She isn’t a hiker, Nate.” Ben narrowed his eyes. “She’s a hunter.”
“A hunter?”
Ben nodded. “Just like the guy who got murdered in your field.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Ben ticked off the evidence. “Did you see how she was dressed? Those weren’t hiking clothes.”
“It’s summer,” Nate pointed out. “And she was looking at day hikes. Not everyone’s got the cash to invest in hiking gear just for a couple of hours in the woods.”
“The scar on her neck. That was a revenant bite.”
“Last I heard being bitten by a revenant doesn’t turn you into a hunter. The opposite actually.” Nate leaned back in the driver’s seat.
Ben gave him a sour look. “Most motorists keep a spare tire in the back of their car. She had a stake and a crucifix. Explain that, Nate.”
“If she’s been attacked by a revenant, she’s probably keen to protect herself. Just like a lot of women carry mace. Doesn’t everyone from New Camden carry salt on them for the same reason?”
“Salt, Nate. Not a stake. Besides, she’s not from New Camden.”
“Then she maybe wouldn’t know that salt is the new garlic.” Nate thumped Ben on the arm. “I admit you didn’t get the best introduction to Little River, but trust me―things here are completely normal. You can relax, forget about the supernatural.”
It was hard to tell if Nate believed that or just desperately wanted to believe it. Ben raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you notice how pointed her questions were?”
“Your imagination―”
Ben shook his head. “When I accused her of spying on your family―”
“You did what?” Nate stared at him. “Shit, Ben.”
“What was I supposed to do? She was blatantly playing up to you, fishing for information―”
“Now we get to it.”
“Get to what?”
“Are you worried that George is a hunter? Or that she was coming on to me?”
Ben stared at Nate. “She admitted she was a hunter―”
“Hunting’s not against the law.”
“But her questions―the way she was blatantly hitting on you even though you’d just met―”
“Flirting? Look, a woman hitting on a hot guy isn’t suspicious, Ben. It just means she likes what she sees.”
“But―”
“It’s probably going to happen again,” Nate said hesitantly. “I mean, working at Century, I get a lot of attention from guys and girls.”
How had the conversation changed direction so rapidly? Ben felt like he had a bad case of whiplash. “That’s not what this is about.”
“You’re sure?” Nate ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just… People make some pretty weird assumptions about bisexuals.”
Ben felt his cheeks heat. “Oh.”
“I’m going to notice hot girls,” Nate continued quietly. “Just like I’m going to notice hot guys. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to do anything about it.” He reached for Ben’s hand. “It’s up to what kind of a relationship you want.”
Ben swallowed.
Nate’s eyes were earnest, fixed on Ben. “You want a committed relationship, that’s cool. Just say the word.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for this conversation.”
Hurt flickered in Nate’s eyes.
“Not like that!” Ben bit his lip. “Not that the idea of a committed relationship with you doesn’t appeal. It does. But―” Ben took a deep breath, looking down at his knees. He had to get this straight in his head, and he couldn’t do that with Nate looking at him. “I still don’t know what I want. What I’m ready for.”
Nate gently patted Ben’s shoulder. “You want to explore your options? Century’s good for that―”
Ben blanched internally. “Nothing about that appeals.”
“I can quit Century. Look for another job―”
“Can you?” Ben tapped the wristband Nate wore. Unable to be removed without specialist equipment, it combined credit card reader and emergency alarm with Century’s trademark sense of style. All Century’s hosts wore them, and they represented a considerable investment for the club―one they would not say good-bye to easily. “What about your contract?”
“They’ll let me go. I’m not exactly in the running for employee of the month right now. Not after―well, you know.” Nate attempted to shrug.
Ben didn’t buy it. “You like your job. You’re good at it, and you genuinely enjoy helping the people you meet. Has that changed?”
Nate wormed back in the driver’s seat. “It’s not the same. I don’t think it could be now.”
Ben studied him closely. “If you really want to break your contract and leave Century, I’ll help you,” he said slowly. “But it’s got to be your decision, not mine―what you want, not what you think I want. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not happy.”
Nate ducked his head ruefully. “The plans you make in your head never come out right in real life, do they? I wanted to impress you with my devotion. Sweep you off your feet.”
Despite himself, Ben’s mouth twitched. “You swept me as far as Little River.”
“Yeah, but―”
“That’s enough.” Ben put his hand over Nate’s. “I much prefer my feet on the ground.” He found it very necessary to tuck his hair out of his face. “Just―keep being you. Knowing I have your support while I figure things out is― That means more than any grand gesture. Honestly.”
Nate’s fingers stroked through his hair. “That I can do.” He leaned in. Ben moved to meet him eagerly, trying to express his gratitude in the kiss.
It was a while before Nate pulled back. “So,” he said with more of his usual cheerfulness. “First stop, Little River.”
✩✩✩
Nate parked outside the General Store. “You’re sure you don’t want to come in with me?”
Ben shook his head as he slid out the door. “No offense, but I saw the size of the list Ethan gave you. Is he trying to buy out the entire seed stock?”
“It’s not going to take that long. Seeds are all on the same shelf.” But Nate still grinned. “What are you going to do?”
Ben shrugged, hoping his tone was casual. “Thought I’d take a quick look at the library.”
“The library?”
“If I’m staying, I need something to do while you’re hanging out with your brother.”
Nate’s eyes softened. “Yeah? Cool.”
The guilt was instant. Ben’s answering smile froze in place. If Nate knew he planned on looking up the Winnaker place the hunter had mentioned…
The guilt lasted all the way across the road. Ben stepped through the door hesitantly. Am I walking into a library or a police station?
The answer was both. The main doors opened into a reception area that did double duty as a community space. A PC so old Ben wondered for a moment if he’d walked into a museum was placed at a desk, with a notice taped to the monitor indicating there was a thirty-minute limit on the use of the internet. Beside it was a poster promoting road safety and another the importance of reading. On the right side of the reception area, the police station was beyond a door with an electronic lock, a wooden bench set out in front. A poster indicated the numbers to call in case of an emergency. A vacuum cleaner could be heard within.
On the left was an open reception desk. A woman with wispy gray hair spoke energetically into the phone. The shelves beyond her indicated she was the librarian. “All confidential of course―but I can tell you the sheriff’s told me to be prepared to close early to accommodate a police team from Chinquapin―well, she would have to. Murder after all… Yes, the Granger farm―” She spotted Ben, nestling the phone against her bosom. “Police?” she asked hopefully.
Ben shook his head, approaching slowly. “Actually, I’m looking for a local history and got told to try the library.”
“I’ll call you back.” The librarian put down the phone. She stood up from the desk, beckoning Ben to step through the sensor gate. “Something I should know?”
“Excuse me?” Ben paused.
She lifted a thick book down from its shelf, setting it on the reading table with a thud. “You’re the second person today to want our history.”
“Who was the first?”
The librarian pursed her mouth. “A young woman, obviously from the city. Now you…” She considered Ben. “I don’t recall seeing you before.”
Ben smiled thinly, taking the book. “I’m staying with a friend. Nate Granger.”
“Oh!” The librarian blanched. “Well,” she said with false brightness. “I’ll leave you to your book.”
Ben sat down at the table. Just what has she heard about the murder? At least Ben’s presence within the library seemed to be a deterrent against her picking up the phone again. Ben opened the history to the back index, aware the librarian was watching him closely.
Winnaker― Here. There were a handful of entries, but Ben had no problems finding the one George referred to.
Myth or Moonshine? He raised an eyebrow at the title. This doesn’t bode well.
The two paragraphs that followed did not deserve the hype. Although it had a devastating effect on the local economy, the chestnut blight gave rise to one of Little River’s more colorful characters. Josiah Winnaker gained local notoriety for his outlandish behavior as the blight reached Castanea County. A third-generation resident of Little River, Josiah inherited the family farm from his father, Joshua Winnaker. However, after an unfortunate series of events, Josiah claimed his farm was cursed by a shapeshifting tree. According to Josiah, the tree was chestnut one day, oak the next. Any attempts to cut the tree down were in vain as the tree simply grew back the next day. The local pastor was called on to exorcise the tree but refused, claiming that the whole thing was pure moonshine.
Local opinion at the time was that Josiah had been drowning his sorrows with home brew. Winnaker was known to be strongly opposed to prohibition and had appeared before the court on charges of being found drunk and disorderly. Whatever the cause, when the National Parks and Recreation Board expanded the area allotted to the Castanea ranges, Winnaker was one of the first to sell his property. He moved to Charlotte, still insisting that he was driven from his house by ‘that damn tree.’
Seriously? Ben flicked through the rest of the book but couldn’t find another reference to Winnaker. That’s what she was looking up?
Not only did trees not shapeshift, but Ben had not once, in all his years of experience, encountered one capable of pulling off a curse. Does the hunter not know basic monsters? Or is she so desperate she’s grasping at straws?
Maybe Nate’s right, and the hunter’s just messing with me. Ben turned to the index, looking first for ‘myths’ then ‘ghost stories.’ Nothing. Little River was just as quiet as Nate had promised―
“Ben.” Nate barged through the library gates. “Let’s go.”
Ben stood up immediately. “It’s not―” A look at Nate’s expression, and Ben swallowed. “Okay.”
Nate gave the librarian a distracted nod. He didn’t speak, even when they were both in the car. Instead he drove in silence, his jaw set.
Ben watched Nate’s hands on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. “What happened?”
Nate’s mouth tightened. “Nothing.”
“Something obviously happened.”
Nate’s mouth dropped unhappily. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
“Tell me.” Ben patted Nate’s arm lightly.
Nate hunched forward over the steering wheel. “The entire time I was in the store, it felt―weird. When I walked in, there was this hush. Rose and the woman she was serving fell silent. I said hi, but there was something off about their replies, and I’d swear they were relieved when I went to get the seeds. I’d just about finished with Ethan’s list when the door flies open, and Dan bursts in. ‘What did I tell you?’ he says. ‘The police team from Chinquapin includes a supernatural investigator! I always said there was something not right about that family!’ Rose hissed at him to shut up, and Dan spotted me. His face went white as a sheet.”
“What happened?”
“Didn’t stay to find out. Only thing I could think of was getting you and leaving.” Nate groaned. “What a mess.”
Ben patted his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m just―really angry. I mean, Ma’s worked her ass off for this community for years―decades. She always goes in early on a Sunday to arrange the flowers before church and stays late to help clean up after. Me and Ethan, we’ve grown up here―this is our home! And these people, our neighbors, they’ve known us our entire lives―they’ve decided we’re guilty, just like that.”
“They’re scared. That’s all. In cases of the supernatural, people react uncharacteristically.”
“I know… Still. It’s different when it happens to you.”
Ben bit his lip. This was something Nate was going to have to get used to…but how to tell him that? He blinked, realizing that instead of fields, they were driving through forest. “We’re not going home?”
“And upset Ma a second time?” Nate’s smile was strained. “We’ll do the shopping in Rockford. With any luck, the news hasn’t reached there yet.”