Page 39 of So Hollow

Even take the lives of others.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Michael pulled into the driveway of the stark Victorian home, and Faith suppressed a shiver. Nina Verbeck wasn’t in the office today, but she was happy to see the agents at her home near the university. Faith just didn’t expect the home to look so much like a vampire’s lair.

“Wicked Witch of the West vibes,” Michael muttered. “Why is it that all professors have a creepy streak?”

“It’s not like it’s the only Victorian home on Earth,” Faith said, partly to herself. “And someone has to study the creepy subjects.”

“It’s fine that it has gables,” Michael said about the house, “but maybe paint it something other than Gargoyle Gray and maybe trim the grass?”

Indeed, the grass was overgrown and bunched like weeds. The paint wasn’t really gray but a dirty, faded white with equally dirty and equally faded black shingles. It looked gray, but what it really looked like was old and uncared for, like a mind left to rot.

Boy, I am full of joyful thoughts today, aren’t I?Faith thought. She looked at Turk, hoping that the shepherd’s perpetual joyfulness would cheer her, but Turk watched the approaching house warily, his shoulders tense.

“Yeah, me too,” she said to her K9 partner.

Michael parked the cruiser in front of the porch and looked at Faith. “How much do you want to bet she has some kids in a cage in the basement that she’s fattening up with sweetbreads?”

“I know you’re trying to make a Hansel and Gretel joke,” Faith said, “but it fell very flat.”

“Whatever.”

The three of them got out of the car and walked up to the house. Turk trotted softly, his body coiled like a spring, ready to strike at any moment.

“Stay calm, boy,” Faith said. “Let’s give Miss Verbeck the benefit of the doubt.”

“Maybe she’s a crazy cat lady,” Michael said. “Is Turk going to have problems with cats?”

“No, he’ll be good.”

Actually, Faith had never seen Turk around a cat. How had that happened? She looked at Turk. “You’re good with cats, right?”

Turk looked at Faith like she was crazy.

The door opened before they reached it, and Nina Verbeck stepped onto her porch. She was of medium height and medium build, with severe features softened by an eager smile that seemed too wide for her face.

“Hello!” she said. “Welcome, agents! I’m so excited to talk to you!”

Faith and Michael exchanged a look. They rarely met anyone so enthusiastic to talk to them. Still, she wasn’t wearing a pointy black hat or floating on a broomstick.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us,” Faith said.

“Of course!” Nina said, “I’ve just made some tea. Fresh chamomile with ginseng and peppermint! An excellent tonic!”

“Thank you,” Faith said.

Nina led them inside, practically bouncing with excitement. Faith was relieved to find that the inside of the house looked a lot more like an ordinary home than the lair of the Baba Yaga. The décor was what Faith referred to as Grandma Chic: flowers, pictures of seascapes and rolling hills with trite inspirational phrases and pastel furniture with soft cushions and an abundance of pillows and blankets.

Nina didn’t appear to be old enough to be a grandmother. She was a little older than Faith, but not much. Maybe around forty.

Still, she moved and talked with a joyful fussiness that calmed Faith considerably. She almost felt silly for being afraid of her because her house was a little raggedy on the outside.

Nina poured three cups of tea and said, “So! You want to know what your killer could possibly want with alchemy.”

“Yes,” Faith replied. “We’re trying to get an understanding of how he thinks so we can hopefully head him off before he kills again.”

“Well, I’ll certainly help any way I can,” Nina said, sitting down and sipping her tea. “You have to move fast, of course. He’s only one step away from completing the Magnum Opus.”

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