I just wouldn’t go at night next time. And I’d take my pepper spray.
Driscoll squinted his eyes, watery and pale blue and bloodshot like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. He watched me, almost as if practicing the ancient art of telepathy.
“I’d really like to stay.” I pulled out my credit card and set it on the counter between us.
He glanced nervously toward the stairway landing. I thought I saw someone up there, a tall figure watching us. But if anyone was there, he vanished almost instantly, retreated down the hallway. Nothing but shadows up there now.
“Fine,” the old man said as he grabbed my card, then swiped it through a machine nearly as old as he was. “I’ll send fresh linens over in the morning. Just remember what I said about staying off the Ponderosa Trail, or I’ll come over there and help you pack up your things myself.”
I chuckled as I signed the receipt, imagined him tossing my clothes into a battered suitcase, fumbling with the cords on my laptop, wagging a finger in my face. “Yes. Sir.” I found myself studying his face, the stubble of a day-old beard, craggy blue shadows on gaunt cheeks. He’d make a great character—the tortured pawn.
He lowered his brow. Perhaps his telepathy had finally kicked in.
I folded the receipt, tucked it in my back pocket and nodded good-bye. Then I headed toward the door. Eager for fresh air.
Chapter 13
The Great Puppet Master
Professor Eli Driscoll:
The door swung shut with a thump. For a long, painful moment it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, like Maddie MacFaddin was the only true living creature in the world. Then I caught my breath. My body sagged back in the chair, limp. I closed my eyes. If I had been a praying man, there would have been a litany of words pouring from my lips right then, I would have been begging for release. I’d have scuffed my knees on that polished wooden floor, would have braided my fingers together and clasped them to my chest.
But prayers meant nothing to me.
The only thing that mattered was the curse.
I knew this reprieve was temporary. I felt like a prisoner who finally got to walk around in the yard, who could let his head fall back and stare up at the sun. This long, delirious moment of quasi-peace was marred only by the fact that it wouldn’t last. It would shatter, break into a thousand unrecognizable shards, I might not even be able to remember that the Beast had left me untended.
Sometimes it was so lonely when that happened. Like a horrid vacuum.
But right now it was sweet as sugar, sweet as a thick caramel sauce drizzled over vanilla cake, sweet as a baked apple swimming in buttery molasses—
That was when I realized I wasn’t truly alone. The Great Puppet Master was still inside my head, listening.
“Leave me alone!” My words echoed through the cavernous room. No one answered, but I heard laughter upstairs, faint and condescending. “Just leave me alone,” I muttered again, words running together, falling over one another, “let me run the bed and breakfast on my own, quit giving me orders. I’m sick of it, I’m going to leave if you don’t stop crawling around inside my head—”
“And where would you go, human? How far do you think you would get before one of us tracked you down and brought you back?” It was the female, still wearing gray skin and silver eyes, walking down the stairs like a prowling cat. I didn’t turn, didn’t look. Didn’t want to see her with those leathery wings, folded neatly at her back.
“I don’t belong to you—” I said, careful to keep my voice low.
“Oh, yes you do, sweet little man.” She was almost behind me now. I could smell her, like a field of wildflowers. I longed to look, to drink her in, to let myself be mesmerized by her alien beauty. “You are mine and I can harvest anytime I want. Would you like to take a little nap, right now?”
“Leave him alone, sister. He’s terribly sorry, he never meant to talk to you like that.” The Beast itself was speaking, making sure that she remembered who I belonged to. Always and forever.
I kept my eyes focused on the floor as they drew even nearer, as if I could make all the bad nightmares go away by pretending they weren’t real. There were three of them now, not two. How many would there be by the end of the night?
“You’re sorry, aren’t you?” the Beast asked, moving closer.
I nodded my head. They were surrounding me. Even if I wanted to run, I couldn’t get away. Then I sensed something. The air grew softer, calmer. I glanced at them from the corner of my eye, saw that they were all wearing human flesh now, human clothes. Pretending to be what they weren’t.
The front door opened then, the cold fresh night air swept into the room. That woman, Madeline, walked in again. She stopped for a second. I glanced up at her.