Page 84 of Eldritch

“Good idea.” Sybil dug into her meal, glad for the diversion.

Seconds later, the text came back from Clarice.

Oh my. Now that’s worrying. Let me do research and see if I can find anyone who can come out and look at the house.

Sybil fired off a thank you.

Later that night, while Sybil sat in bed reading a book, her cell phone dinged with a text. She snagged her phone off the bedside table and saw it was Doug.

Hey there. I talked to the deputy. He said you should report this Taggert guy to the police. They can get the prints off that tracking device and do some other work to prove it’s him. Maybe get a warrant to access his computer.

She answered. Okay, thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll contact the sheriff’s department again tomorrow morning. Clinton have any advice?

Doug said in the text: Yeah. Quite a few things. Sometimes he’s got too much advice. Want me to see if he’s free for spaghetti dinner, too?

The primitive female part of her wanted more alone time with Thor.

Instead she said, If he’s free, that’ll be great. If not, you can tell me his plans. She added a smile emoji.

She explained about the swaying light fixture in the dining room, and he said he’d never experienced anything similar at his cabin. He was glad Clarice planned to look into it.

They left it at that, but as she put her book away and turned off the light, she stared at the ceiling into the dark of the room for a considerable time and ruminated for far too long.

* * *

Sybil opened her eyes. She stood in the near darkness. She blinked.

Where the hell...?

A niggling of panic quickened her breath. Her pulse throbbed in her neck, her heartbeat quickening. She reached for her phone and found her belt bag missing. She wore the same clothes she’d worn earlier in the day, so where...?

Not in my pajamas. What the hell?

She reached into the right pocket of her cargo pants and found her phone there. She switched on the light. Found herself standing at the bottom of the staircase in the Great Hall.

Fear tried to creep in.

Something tickled at the edge of her mind. It stroked. Played and caressed. She knew where she wanted to go because it asked her to. The itch compelled her until she began a walk toward the place she needed to go. Using her cellphone flashlight as her only guide, she headed toward the cellar. As she moved, the air thickened, the quality almost like molasses.

She’d encountered this sense of moving through thick air so many times all her life. She always associated the impression with a place being haunted. By something. It wasn’t a new feeling around here. Not at all. Yet she’d ignored it until now. It aspired to be known and seen. It demanded she obey.

The cellar door was wide open. Without reluctance, she stood at the top of the stairs. The cellphone flashlight only illuminated a few steps down.

“If you want me down there, let me see,” she whispered.

The light penetrated to the bottom of the stairs, and she smiled. Good. Then she remembered.

Protect yourself.

In her mind’s eye she tried to see a white light of protection coming down through her head and surrounding her entire body. She took a deep breath and proceeded.

She took the first step down. The next. The next. Lead weighted each foot until she’d reached the bottom. Her breath sluiced in and out of her lungs.

She turned the light toward the long stretch of darkness to her right, and it illuminated everything she expected to see.

There’s nothing down here that wasn’t here before. Nothing.

She took one step after another, passed a new set of strange reptilian-like footsteps. She stopped long enough to take some photos, doubtful they’d come out in this light. What is this thing? What?

---