Page 22 of In the Dark

“The manifestation of your dark powers. It’s been on the news today. One of the farmers out on Highway 9 came out to feed his herd this morning and found each one of them looking like they were blown apart by a bomb. My favorite theory on the Internet was the alien abduction one. Made me laugh.”

“I would never do anything like that,” she told him, furious at the accusation. “Whatever happened to them was not my fault! Not my fault!”

Be patient, Morgan warned himself when her voice rose. The woman in front of him was set to go off at any moment. Then he saw it. She wasn’t fuming mad; she was scared.

“All right, maybe it wasn’t you. I could be mistaken.” He kept his voice gentle when he spoke to her. “But the fact remains that something happened to those cattle last night right around the time you disappeared. It’s enough to make a man wonder.”

Karsia crossed her arms. “I think I would remember. Cattle mutilations sort of stick out in the mind.”

The dark glint in her eyes told him something inside of her remembered doing exactly that, although perhaps not her.

“Okay, well.” Morgan sighed and gestured with his chin. “I’ve been looking all day for the manuscript and I haven’t found anything new. The paper you read is at least five years old and I can’t seem to locate any of my original work. The best I came up with was an old field notebook with some scribbles. What time is it?” He glanced at the clock. “Well, shit. Almost ten! Look at us, two night owls.”

“I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Why would it be easy?” Disgusted, Karsia straightened. “Why would anything in my life be easy?”

“Calm down. I didn’t say I’ve found nothing. In fact, I have a few of the manuscripts I cited as well.” He pointed. “They’re right behind you there, if you want to take a look. Nothing I’ve looked at so far has the answers you want.”

“Not want, geek. Need. Desperately.” She said the words as she looked at her fingernails, picking at flecks of dirt. Something about the way she spoke sounded repetitive, an echo she didn’t believe anymore.

“I’m sure you do. Which is why I’ll continue to look even though the clock rapidly approaches twelve. Burning the midnight oil.”

“The witching hour. Time for evil to come out and play.” She kicked her feet. “Aren’t you frightened?”

He sighed. “No.”

“I’ve told you what I am. I’m surprised you haven’t turned your back on me yet. I’m dangerous, you know.”

He’d seen much in his time. Too much. He’d seen the foul deeds of which man is capable of doing echoed in dreams and he became intimately acquainted with evil. Whatever Karsia had inside of her, he was no stranger to it.

“I know you are,” he said, “but I’m not frightened.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“I’m fine,” he told her, looking back at his book. “I’m old enough to deal with whatever is thrown at me.”

“Even true evil?”

“Even that. It doesn’t scare me. What scares me is you not wearing a coat when there’s snow on the ground.”

Morgan rose on creaky knees and crossed to her on the tips of his toes. She eyed him. “Why are you concerned?”

“With your body type, you could get hypothermia in a snap. Or catch a cold.” He reached out slowly, carefully, ran his hands along her arms to warm her. He was surprised when she let him.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Karsia stilled under the contact, some of the first and only she’d had in the weeks since her accident. “And what gives you the right to touch me?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. Staggered by his reaction to her. “Something about you makes me want to protect you.”

She let out a bark of laughter, harsh and abrasive. “Buddy, I don’t need protecting, least of all by you. You look like you couldn’t swat a gnat from the air with those spindly arms.”

“That’s not how it looks from here, although I’m hurt. You dare insult my muscled physique! It seems to me you need someone in your corner more than ever. You’re alone.”

She started to protest and then stopped, her body leaning into the contact slightly.

“You’re alone, and you’re fighting this huge problem by yourself.” Morgan continued to rub her arms. He drew in her scent. At first it came to him in a stale gust, a hint of rotting meat assaulting his nostrils. He moved past that until he recognized her sweetness. Delicate. Lovely.

Her eyes narrowed. “Stop touching me,” she demanded.

“I’m not sure I can.”

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