Deadly Ever After by Eva Gates (distant reading .txt) 📗

Fluffy jumped off the bed and ran for the door. Charles went into the kitchen to check out the contents of the food bowl. I yawned and stretched. I was ready for bed, but dog duties needed to be attended to.

When I last spoke to Evangeline, she’d said nothing about coming for Fluffy and pretty much said she hoped never to see me again. The little creature was growing on me—I was becoming fond of her, and she and Charles had made friends, but I didn’t want to be stuck with Fluffy if Evangeline went home without her. I’d have to call her in the morning and arrange a time for Evangeline to pick up the dog.

I took the pink leash down from the hook by the door. Fluffy’s ears perked up, and she did a joyful little dance at my feet. I fastened the leash to her collar, told Charles we’d be right back, and let us out of the Lighthouse Aerie.

We descended the stairs, round and round and round, in the dim light from the fourth-floor landing above and the library alcove below. The library snoozed peacefully around me, and I imagined I could hear the soft breathing of the characters as they prepared for another busy day of being read on Monday.

When I moved, I’d miss this place at night. The peace. The quiet. Maybe I could convince Connor to come occasionally for a sleepover. Provided no one moved in, that is. Which reminded me that Charlene had quit and Bertie would have news to give us on Monday. Would the new academic librarian be young and single and wanting to live ten miles outside of town and four stories above the marsh? Never mind being pestered by library patrons when trying to sneak in and out of their own home. It wasn’t the life for everyone.

I opened the door to be greeted by a wall of fog so thick the lamp over the door scarcely illuminated the bottom of the steps. I switched on the small flashlight I keep fastened to my key chain. “We won’t go far tonight, Fluffy. It’s easy to get lost in this muck.”

High above us the thousand-watt bulb flashed, but the illumination barely reached the ground.

I’d take Fluffy down to the parking area and then we’d turn around and come back, sticking strictly to the path so as not to get lost in the fog and end up wandering in circles. A long walk could wait until tomorrow. Fluffy didn’t seem to mind. She did what she had to do on a patch of grass and then sniffed her way down the path next to me. We reached the parking lot and were about to turn around when her head shot up, her ears lifted, and she let out a growl, deep in her throat. I glanced at her in alarm. She pulled at the leash, continuing to growl, staring intently into the dark. The hairs along her back were standing on end. I have to admit, the hair on the back of my neck was doing the same. She growled again, the sound low and menacing and unlike anything I’d heard from the tiny lapdog before.

I tugged at the leash. She didn’t come but growled once more. “Come on, Fluffy. Nothing’s out there. Let’s go in, why don’t we?”

“Don’t hurry away on my account,” came a voice from inside the swirling mist.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Stephen Livingstone stepped into the dim light thrown by my little flashlight. He held a solid Maglite in his right hand, but he’d switched it off.

My heart rate did not settle, and the hairs on the back of my neck did not relax. Fluffy lunged for him, snapping and snarling. I gripped the leash tightly. I swallowed. “Hi!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “Goodness. You scared me there. Out for a walk in the marsh, are you? Not a good night for it.” I pulled at the leash. Fluffy resisted, but I was bigger and stronger. I dragged her away, inch by protesting inch. “Still, some people like the atmosphere, or so they say. Spooky, right? Like in The Hound of the Baskervilles. I saw corpse candles in the marsh one night last October, around Halloween. It was a night much like this one, come to think of it, although a bit colder.” I shoved my free hand into my pocket. It came up empty, and I stifled a curse. I’d put my phone on the table when I got in from work.

Stephen said nothing. He simply stared at me, his eyes dark, unemotional pools in the shadows of his face.

“I’d invite you in,” I said, “but it’s late, and I’m tired. “Come on, Fluffy.”

He spoke at last, his voice low and threatening. “You really don’t know to mind your own business, do you?”

“Sure I do. I’m minding my own business right now. I’m going inside. Me and the dog. Straight to bed. This is where I live, believe it or not.”

“I know you do. I saw you at the hotel this morning, talking to Evangeline and her fat friend.”

“Yup. That was me. Evangeline’s a good friend of my mom’s.”

As I talked, I edged slowly backward. Stephen matched me, step for step. The fog shifted constantly. One moment I could see him clearly, and the next he faded into tendrils of mist. He might disappear, but I could hear his voice and feel the sheer menace emanating from him.

Fluffy continued barking. I continued backing up. I continued chatting inanely. The back of my foot touched the bottom of the stairs. I held the leash in one hand and my flashlight, focused on the ground, in the other. The mist swirled around us, but I could make out Stephen in the flash of light from high above us. The light went out, and then it came on again. I braced myself. I breathed. I was ready