Page 24 of Thunder Road

Simon nodded. “Ideally, I’d like to find older works that are less mythologized, that treat trolls like rare beasts instead of fanciful creatures. To be honest, I’m more interested in something like a game warden’s handbook than colorful folktales.”

Mrs. Ames adjusted her glasses and gave him a look that made Simon wonder if she had some psychic talent. “You’re looking for something tactical, not just scholarly.”

He tried not to squirm, hoping she wasn’t about to lecture him on taking things too seriously. “I’m looking into a pattern of disappearances over a period of years that doesn’t match normal circumstances. And when something doesn’t fit into the natural order, it requires moving farther afield.”

To his relief, she didn’t laugh. “That helps. Disclaimer—many of these books are very old. While some of them have taken the tone of cultural anthropology, the authors might just have been gifted storytellers. I’d start with these.”

She went down the shelves with a practiced eye, selecting books with faded covers until she had half a dozen on the reading desk.

“The Ormondson brothers are what I’ve always described as what you’d get if you crossed Hans Christian Anderson with Jane Goodall,” she told him. “Part fabulist and part neutral observer. Whenever I read the Ormondson books, I have the feeling I’m reading fact slightly disguised as fiction.”

“The investigation has hit several dead ends pursuing normal leads. We’re hoping that taking a different tack might open up other possibilities.” Simon didn’t want to fuel speculation, but he needed the librarian’s help, and she seemed predisposed to be more accepting than he had dared hope.

“Hamlet was right about there being more things than we’ve dreamt of.” Mrs. Ames’s smile told him she enjoyed being on thehunt. “If there’s anything else you can tell me to help you narrow the selections, I promise to keep it in confidence.”

She dropped her voice. “I’ve always believed librarians function under the seal of the confessional.”

Simon glanced around, confirming they were alone. “There’s a pattern of recurring disappearances that may be linked to an old bargain with a troll.”

“You mean like that odd motorcycle accident everyone’s talking about? The one where the rider just up and vanished?” she asked.

“Among others. You can imagine that the media would make hash out of anyone looking into trolls to explain it.”

She nodded. “Your secret is safe with me. This is a college dedicated to the esoteric and arcane. That wouldn’t be the oddest thing anyone has ever researched here.”

Simon didn’t think he wanted to know what counted as strange if trolls in Myrtle Beach didn’t. “Thank you.”

“The two-volume work by Sanders might be good, too,” she added. “It gets into some of the details that might seem less exciting on the mythic side but important for practical reasons. For example, trolls can’t make people disappear on a regular basis. It takes too much out of them. So there’s a recharge period between disappearances that provides a chance to attack.”

“Interesting,” Simon replied, reaching for the books she mentioned. “We were trying to figure out how to confront one without getting poofed.”

“Good to consider,” she said, although he sensed that his wording amused her. “If I recall correctly—and please verify this before you go into battle—they still have some formidable abilities short of killing someone. Like distorting time and sending nightmares.”

Simon shivered, unconsciously clutching the books a little tighter. “That’s something I need to know more about.”

“Make yourself comfortable at the desk. There’s a button that will buzz my station if you need help,” Mrs. Ames pointed out. “As usual, no eating, drinking, or marking in books. Cell phone photography is permitted for personal use, but please do not post your photos publicly without permission.”

Simon thanked her and made himself comfortable at the old wooden library desk. The stacks were quiet, but he didn’t sense any dangerous energies. Simon felt more at peace in the library than anywhere else except the beach.

The Sanders books proved remarkably readable for scholarly tomes, and well-organized. Simon felt his heart skip a beat as he read more about troll magic.

The legends vary about the recharge period—the stories say it differs by the species of troll. But the odds are good that we’re safe from being disappeared for at least five days after the last person was poofed. Give or take. Might not want to push the margin on that.

So the clock is ticking.

He read further and caught his breath.

Trolls can make walls and buildings collapse. Good thing the house and shop are warded. I wish I could ward the police station too.

He had done his best, with Vic’s help, to add what magical protection he could, but being a public building ruled out some of the spells.

Nightmares and phantom pain don’t sound like fun. I bet the vision I got was the troll trying to make me back off. We’re fairly safe inside the house and store, and the car is warded, but everywhere else, we’re only as protected as the charms and amulets we wear can provide.

Does the troll know I’m after it? Can it sense my abilities? I don’t want to endanger people by going to public events like the Boo & Brew if the troll is out to get me.

Then again, it can’t wreak too much havoc, or it drains its power and makes people more wary.

Still, good to find out that it can’t zap an unlimited number of people into oblivion. I want to stop the troll, but I have no intention of getting killed over it or letting that happen to Vic or our friends.

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