Page 6 of The Spider & the Storm

***

The mosaic rays of sunlight peeked through the branches of the white oak, its trunk to my back. The sketch pad in my lap stared back at me, the white paper still crisp and blank, untouched by my marker. I had thought the statue of a snarling gargoyle would spark some creativity, but I couldn't convince the Sharpie to lay anything down on the clean sheet before me.

I was a creature of habit. Life was predictable that way. It wassafe. Living every day exactly the same as the last with few surprises. Time moved quicker; the days passed more efficiently. But today felt different. Something had shifted in me; a piece had somehow fallen out of place.

I considered that maybe the brief run-in with the teenagers had shaken me up. I had kept my head down and existed only in the shadows for so long; it felt disturbing and foreign to be suddenly acknowledged, like a ghost finally seen after aneternity of being invisible. It reminded me of a time before Salem—back when tragedy and trauma had instilled the drive in me to leave everything behind, and it had left me desperate for cover. No longer did my little bubble feel as safe as it had before, and now, there was a brand-new sense of restlessness, scratching beneath the surface of my skin.

I'd been content to sit in this cemetery for years, seldom venturing out and only when absolutely necessary—often in either the early morning hours or late, late at night, when the only people emerging from their caves were others likely to also keep to themselves. But today, I was no longer satisfied to sit behind the safety of my wrought iron fence and eight-foot-tall stone pillars. Today—though I knew I might live to regret it—I craved a little more than the hallowed ground could provide.

So, with that unusual desire fueling a flame beside an unsettling sense of foreboding in my gut, I stood from my seat beneath the tree and headed back to my house on the hill. I dropped my sketch pad and pen in their rightful home on the small table between the armchairs in the living room, then grabbed my keys from off the hook beside the front door.

Maybe a quick ride will make me feel better.

After locking the door and double-checking that it was secure, I went around back to where Luke's motorcycle was always parked.

Man, he had loved that bike. It was his pride and joy at a point when he otherwise had none, and when he could no longer use it, he'd insisted I take it for myself. But since I’d left Connecticut years ago, the black Harley rarely left the cemetery grounds. Maybe once a month, when I dared to stop at a nearby grocery store for provisions, but apart from that, the bike was used only to zip around the cemetery.

I doubted it was what Luke had intended when he gave me the keys, but could he have honestly expected anything else from his reclusive little brother? Or maybe he'd thought the damn thing possessed some kind of power to pump confidence and sufficient social skills back into a person—as if I’d had any to begin with.

I huffed a gentle chuckle through my nose as I pulled the helmet on and mounted the bike, remembering Luke and how he had never needed the Harley to make friends or pick up women—but it certainly never hurt.

Me though? All it gave me was the rush of having the quiet wind sifting through my hair, and usually, that was enough.

The cemetery closed at sundown every night. With a quick glance at my watch, I saw that I had about three hours before I had to lock the gate. But that was fine. I wouldn’t need that much time to get whatever had awaken beneath my skin out of my system. A quick ride around the city, maybe a stop somewhere for something to eat, and I'd be good for the next several years.

Or I hoped so at least.

***

In the time that I'd been living in Salem, I hadn't gotten any food from any of the local restaurants apart from an occasional stop at McDonald's. The desperation to remain elusive and alone had kept any possible curiosity thwarted. But there must've been something in the air tonight, something sweeter and unexplained because I found myself heading down the sidewalk toward Village Tavern.

It'd come on suddenly, the hunger and intrigue, while I was taking my first impromptu walk through Salem's Derby Square.

It was easy to understand how I'd never found myself strolling through the city's small plaza, crowded by a street market's varied booths full of oddities and curiosities, though I’d heard the tales and seen the pictures on social media. Several years of solidarity might've sounded like a lot to most people, but to me, it was nothing outside of normal. Hell, for a good deal of my life, I’d made it a point to keep myself locked away—whether at work or at home—like a hunchback guarding his sacred tower. Only Luke could ever talk me into doing something outside of my norm with never-ending promises of fun and good times.

What would he think of me now?I’d thought, wearing a melancholy smile as I walked down the wide brick steps toward the street below.

I was imagining his incredulous laugh and shaking head and rolling eyes when my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since that afternoon. After a quick glance at my watch, I was startled by having allowed two hours to pass so easily. My precious and treasured routine had been set so off-kilter, and I nearly tripped on that last step, right into a booth of incense and burners.

It would be time to lock the gates soon, and I needed to eat.

So, I pulled out my phone and looked up restaurants in the area, feeling absurdly embarrassed that I didn’t already know. I was no better than these tourists surrounding me, consulting the internet for recommendations instead of knowing from the experience of having had lived in the city for nearly half a decade.

Pathetic, Charlie. That’s what you are. A pathetic loser. A fucking creep. A—

Stop.

I shook my head, sending the voice away, as a list of the best restaurants in Salem came up in the search results. Number one was Village Tavern, so that was who I called to put in a takeout order. Because Lord knew there was no way I was going to sit down in a restaurant and eat. But nothing said I couldn’t grab my food and get the hell out before anyone had much of a chance to notice me.

And that was exactly what I’d done.

I parked Luke’s bike and hurried down the street to the restaurant, where I walked inside, muttered my name, and grabbed my food. The staff was quick and efficient, and I was out of there before I could commit the foolish act of making eye contact with anyone. But I was moving too fast as I neared the corner, ready to cross the street. I was too focused on putting my wallet in my back pocket and taking the keys from my jacket while juggling the bag of food and a highly anticipated soda. I was so distracted, so in my fucking head and thinking too much about a life I could no longer have, that I didn’t notice the woman coming around the corner or the people she was with.

The impact was jarring. Her body crushed against mine with the force of a battering ram, knocking the drink from my hand. I took a hasty step back, putting distance between us before I dared to allow my eyes a quick look at her face.

Holy shit.

If the force of her body bumping into mine had been jarring, witnessing how indisputably beautiful she was could only be described as catastrophic. A pile of raven-black haircrowned her head, her face framed by strands kept loose. Her ghostly-white skin was adorned with more piercings than I could count in the brief glance, but those eyes … green and otherworldly …

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