Page 19 of An Invocation of Monsters

Nobody would understand. This was absolute madness.

I didn’t want Juno to worry herself into thinking I was having a mental breakdown. Between her baby and her research, she had enough on her plate.

I slowly put the phone back on the nightstand, pulling my legs up to wrap my arms around them.

There was nothing to be done for it. I was alone in this.

Were my mother’s secrets worth risking insanity for?

I nibbled a thumbnail as I thought. I didn’t feel insane.

Definitely staggered and awed, and possibly even slightly terrified, but not insane.

Maybe it was because I was already slightly steeped in madness.

Healing hands were not supposed to be real, and yet I’d managed to accept that particular aspect of my life with a fair amount of aplomb.

What was a giant moth monster next to that? If anything, my own existence justified that his was perfectly natural and normal.

“Okay,” I whispered out loud. “First things first.”

I grabbed my phone and pulled up a blank note, then typed out everything I could remember. The smell of the forest, the rage in his shrieking cries, the spinning sensation when I saw the swirling patterns on his wings…

And the conversation. Who was the Hunter, and what on earth was the Void?

Whatever it was, he’d sworn on it, and kept his promise. It must be important to him.

I let out a hoarse laugh as I finished typing. Now more than ever, I wished I could ask Juno to search her considerable library for any mention of such things, but that would likely lead down a rabbit hole of questions about my mental stability.

I showered as quickly as possible and pulled on jeans and my Point Pleasant tourist tee I’d bought a few years ago, which made me laugh to myself. Already I fully planned on finding him again, and asking if he’d happened to be in the neighborhood while we were passing through.

But before I pulled on my gloves, I flexed my hands, remembering the soft, warm silk of the monster’s skin against my palm, the rise of fall of his chest with each breath.

Then I snorted. What was I doing, romanticizing a creature like that?

But he’d touched my cheek. He’d said my name like a prayer, as though he’d been waiting for me…

I yanked the glove on, shaking my head. I was imagining things.

But what I was not imagining was the fact that my jacket was missing. I stared at the leather couch, distinctly remembering dropping my jacket on it when I’d walked in last night.

It was gone, leaving no sign that it had ever existed.

I searched my room and suitcase, but no dice. It was like the thing had vanished into thin air.

I realized I was scowling so hard the lines felt like they’d be engraved on my forehead soon. Had someone been in my room? Was one of the Wendigo Society’s people stalking me?

I had a hard time envisioning Kase creeping into my room at night, but something about Willow made it all too easy to imagine.

What could she possibly want with my jacket, though?

I growled under my breath, resigning myself to being chilly until I found it.

Before I left, I slipped my camera into a shoulder bag, my Leatherman in my pocket, and locked the door behind me. I definitely had no reason to trust anyone here.

Even in the bright light of day, there was something about the Lodge that spoke of too-deep shadows. It was like viewing the world with a filter over my eyes, turning everything hazy and slightly gray.

My stomach wanted me to pay a visit to Tater, but when I heard Mary’s laugh coming from the front of the house, my feet automatically directed me to the French doors leading to the lake.

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