Page 35 of Waltzing With Witches

It’s the middle of the night, and my thoughts are a whirlwind. I’m mad. I’m disappointed. I’m…intrigued. But I need a minute to think this through. I set the VHS down and grab the stack of magazines. Crossing the room, I fall into bed and flip through them until I fall asleep.

Iwake at the ass crack of dawn, my eyes springing open to stare at the ornate wood ceiling. Two of the tiles flip-flop places.

“Good morning to you too,” I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. “What time is it?”

Five tiny chimes emit from somewhere across the room.

Fuck me. Five a.m.

My bed covers ruffle, shifting the keeping magazines and depositing them on my chest. They slip and slide until they cover my face. I grab them and sit upright.

“Chill out, wait.” I look around the room. “You need a name. I’m so used to calling the Annabelle by her name. Do you have one already?”

Silence.

“How about Ben? You seem like a Ben to me. I worked with a really nice nurse named Ben once upon a time.”

Every door in my room opens and shuts slowly. A yes.

“Okay, Ben”—I pull my hair into a bun on top of my head—“I suppose you think I need to watch this VHS, huh?”

The castle yanks all the covers off the bed, dumping them in a heap on the floor.

“Rude,” I huff, sliding out of bed. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where I can locate a VHS player, do you?”

One of the magazines flips open, the pages flying by themselves until it falls flat. On the left page, a smiling centaur stands in front of a beautiful old building, holding a stack of books in her arms.

The title reads, “Historical Societies and Their Role Within the Haven System.”

Ah.

“Thanks, Ben,” I mumble as I head for the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and headed out the door with the VHS in hand. I snatch the Keeper’s bike key on my way out—fucker deserves for me to steal it—it’s mine for the day. He is in the wrong here. And he gets wronger and wronger by the minute, I swear.

A tiny guilty twinge sounds off somewhere in my mind, but I don’t let it take hold.

Ben waves both front doors at me as I slide across the bike seat and stare at the dark road ahead. Awareness pricks at the back of my neck. I whip around on the bike, but nobody’s there.

I squint into the dark, but there’s no one.

Although, it wouldn’t surprise me for the damn Keeper to be in that forest watching. He moves around silently.

Asshat.

I flip the quiet forest a middle finger in case he’s there, and then I put the bike into gear, roaring down the dark road.

I’m unsteady on the bike at first, but I get the hang of it quickly, even though it’s too big for me. The handlebars are set at the right height for the Keeper, so I have to lean pretty far forward. Even so, it’s thrilling to have the wind in my hair. It doesn’t occur to me how loud the bike is until I drive slowly down Sycamore and hook a right on Main Street. The engine’s throaty purr bounces off the buildings.

Shit, I’m gonna wake up the whole town.

It’s too late, I suppose.

Grimacing, I troll slowly up Main, parking the bike in front of the historical society. It’s dark, which I expected. To my left, Town Hall stands quietly. A deep, aching sadness takes root in my stomach. It’s so wrong how Town Hall never gets used. I want to change that.

Jogging across the street, I head for the empty, quiet building. I make my way up the steps and place a hand on the front door. “I’ll come visit with you shortly, alright? I need to do some research at the historical society.”

The front door shimmies. Town Hall gets it, but she’s sad.

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