Page 73 of Eldritch

“Wait,” he said as they got closer to Clarice’s mansion. “You like horror?”

“You don’t?”

“I’ve seen a few horror movies I liked, but I haven’t tried reading a horror novel.”

“You might have figured that women don’t like horror, or that a person who sees dead people wouldn’t like horror. Well, you’d be right...some mediums don’t like horror or horror movies. I like both.”

She shrugged, a bit guarded, when she realized she shouldn’t be. She glanced over at him, and in the dim light of the cab truck, and he smiled.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not saying it’s bad you like it...it just surprised me because so many women don’t like horror period. My mother hates it.” His grin grew wider.

“So do most of the women I know. I had to be the rebel,” she said.

You’re not so different.

It echoed in her head. She didn’t wish to be different, yet she knew it down to her core that she was. Her Aunt Maggie had stated that to her years ago, emphasizing that she wasn’t so distinctive from everyone else. She hadn’t meant it as a comfort, but derogatory.

Before long, they reached the road that led to the mansion. As they turned left, Sybil couldn’t help but stare at the tree that Doug’s wife had crashed into all those years ago. A strange curiosity came over her. She wanted to leave the truck and touch the tree to see if it would talk to her and explain what had happened. But of course she wouldn’t. At least not right now.

They arrived at the circular drive at the front of the mansion, and he parked close to the front door.

“Thanks so much for dinner. It loved it,” she said.

“You’re welcome. I think Clinton’s got a winner in that diner. Before you leave the area, go there with your crew.”

“Sounds like a great idea. Well, I’ll let you go.”

He grinned, his expression warm. “Hey, I’d love to cook you dinner one night. We should do that before you finish cleaning Clarice’s mansion. That is...if you want to.”

Pleasure eased through her, warm and affirming. “Sounds great.”

“If I don’t hear from you in a couple of days, I’ll text or call and see how things are going.”

“Sounds like a plan. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

She exited the truck with a wave. As she went to the front door, he waited until she’d opened the front door and let herself inside. She locked the door and heard the truck pull away. She turned.

She started, a gasp coming out of her throat.

“Shit.” Sybil let out a relieved breath as she recognized Pauline standing in the doorway leading to the Great Hall. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry.” Pauline’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she smiled. “I heard the truck drive up.”

Sybil walked into the Great Hall and noted some small lights illuminated parts of the cavernous room.

“So, how was the date?” Pauline asked.

Sybil drew off her sock hat and stuffed it in her coat jacket. “Great.”

She gave Pauline a short version of it, emphasizing Clinton’s more than anything.

“Uh-huh.” Pauline’s grin hadn’t left. She planted her hands on her hips. “You were sitting out there for some time...in the truck, I mean.”

Sybil rolled her gaze. “No I wasn’t sitting out there that long. Nothing happened. Not that it would be any of your business if it did.”

“Too bad. I mean, that man is hot. If I were you, I’d try to get some before I left this house for good.”

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