Page 71 of Eldritch

Sybil stopped with a fry halfway to her mouth, her thoughts racing. A new chill danced over her skin. “That’s bizarre. But then, dreams often are.”

“It becomes weirder. One night I woke up and there was a figure standing in my bedroom at the cabin. I went into Marine mode and was ready to go for my uncle’s pistol in the drawer. I turned on the light. It was my dead wife.”

Sybil blinked, processing the information. “Wow.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Do I see doubt in your face?”

She smiled. “No, not at all. It’s true that I’m a skeptical believer, so even when I hear stuff about the paranormal, I want to think about all the ways there could be a logical explanation. But I have no reason to doubt you. I understand the dream. You mentioned feeling guilty, even if you shouldn’t have. So while she was standing there by your bed, was she as solid as you and I?”

“For about ten seconds, and then she faded out slowly. I didn’t sleep well for the next couple of nights and took a lot of naps during the day.

“You didn’t see her apparition again?”

“No.”

She nodded. “I believe when you dream of a deceased person, that means they’ve come to visit you.”

He looked thoughtful. “I didn’t dream of her again after I left the cabin and went back to work. And I haven’t dreamed of her again.” He grinned. “So you see, maybe I’m not as skeptical as you think I am.”

She heaved a sigh. “Well, maybe then you won’t think I’m insane when I explain some of the other things that have happened in the house.”

His eyes widened a bit. “There’s more?”

“A few things we haven’t told you yet. And I haven’t told you what happened to me when I was a teenager.”

“I want to hear more about what happened to you as a teen. Tell me everything.”

Chapter Twelve

Sybil stared at Doug and marveled that he wanted to hear about her life. In those few seconds, her spider sense didn’t scream or warn her he would turn on the slick operator and bullshit her. Good sign.

She gave herself time by taking a small sip of wine. “I was interested in the paranormal from the time I was a little kid. My parents let me read anything I wanted, so I found all the scary books I could, and the scary movies. I hid that interest from other people, because I realized some children thought I was weird because I liked the esoteric.”

He pushed his plate aside, having demolished his food. “When I was a kid, I was more interested in sports like football. Any kind of sports.”

“I’ll bet nothing strange happened to you until the dreams you had about your wife, right? And seeing her by your bed.”

He leaned toward her a little. “How did you know that?”

“I’m skilled sometimes at reading people’s moods, their inspirations, their likes and dislikes, the things they’re thinking.”

“That sounds like a good skill to have.”

“It can be. It’s a good survival skill. Some people don’t appreciate it, though, when you point out to them what they’re thinking and you’re accurate.” She shrugged. “It can be problematic. The survival part comes in figuring out what it is people want to hear. To keep them from being angry with you. To survive bullying and abuse or to circumvent it.”

He nodded. “Understandable. I can see why you developed that skill and why you used it.”

She gave him the inside scoop on how she could effortlessly mask her thoughts and feelings about a subject. It felt dangerous as hell to tell him. She rarely spilled her guts like this to anyone. Almost no one.

Why? Why are you telling him this, Sybil?

Good question.

“It started in grade school. The bullying,” she said. “Bullies can tell who is vulnerable. My parents were flexible on some things. But my mom had trouble with depression. My dad...well, as you know…” She looked around for a second, afraid someone could hear her.

He grimaced. “Sorry about that. That was the cop in me. Sometimes I blurt out shit like that when I’m in polite society. Police work made me paranoid.”

“I don’t blame you. I knew when you did the background check it would come out one way or the other. Can’t say that it didn’t freak me out, but it couldn’t be helped.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It gets difficult to hide something that awful.”

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