Page 3 of Safe in Shadow
“Well. At least she won’t be rushing us ‘cause it’s on her dime.”
“I heard we gotta rush anyhow because she got another grant from the Department of Aging and Welfare. The lady is going to do monthly programs for seniors and provide interim housing for people who are on waiting lists to get into assisted living. It’s smart if you think about it. But—that means the fumigators and painters are coming. They’ll strip the place down and paint it up.”
“Wish I could get someone to help me pay formyrenovations,” one grumbled.
“You want to build a Man Cave. Plus, this lady is real determined. Very persuasive. You have to be if you’re going to get grant money.”
“Screw that, then. I can’t write for shit.”
“Anyone who has ever read your work orders knowsthat.”
THE PARADE CONTINUED, irking Nyx more with every passing day. He slammed things, blew fuses, and made the faucets run full blast.
No one seemed to care. They all attributed it to the failings of one of the dozen workmen in the house at any time.
I’m supposed to be tearing this place to bits, not watching it get rebuilt. Ugh.
Nyx put his head in his hands. He supposed he could try appearing to the people plaguing him.
After watching a painter eat a ham on rye while sitting crookedly on a ladder, Nyx rose up from the floorboards, shadowy body as fearsome as he could make it—a thing of muscles and writhing smoke with stark white eyes and claw-like hands.
The painter put his cigarette out on him, flicking ash into the shadows as the cigarette butt joined bits of old paint on a long, stained dropcloth.
Stupid humans.
“ARE YOU SURE WE SHOULDbe here?”
Nyx had been contemplating going out to the big industrial dumpsters that now stood by the house. They were full of rotted wood and molding boards, mildewed cloth, and rickety furniture. Most of the old library was in one of those dumpsters. There was nothing written past 1935 in there, but still—they were his only entertainment most nights. Nyx was considering trying to bring them back inside, frozen in contemplation as he wondered if he’d be able to. After all, there must be a new owner of the house, and she had ordered them to be thrown out. Would they still bend to his will?
“I have a key from Silverman. We need to check.”
Frozen no more, Nyx went like a shot to his spawning place, the place where the edge of the Netherworld touched the lightof the living world. He resisted going into the inky, icy depths of that place.
One day, they wouldn’t let him out.
“But there’s... there’s been bloodshed near here. I feel it. Can’t you feel it, Jakob?”
“Shh, Alban. I don’t smell blood—but I can sense something. If a vampire can’t smell blood...”
“I think we should force it out. Whatever’s hiding in here.”
“We’ve come by here a few times before. We’ve never been able to draw it out.”
“Force, I said. I know a spell—”
“You’re the finest warlock of our times—and you write up excellent wills, Alban. Your practices in both arenas are above reproach. Let’s not break the habit of a lifetime. Just because it hides doesn’t mean it’s evil.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s good. Normal humans are going to be coming here to spend a lazy weekend or take a quickie honeymoon. We can’t have it be adead-and-breakfast instead of a bed-and-breakfast!”
Nyx felt sick—and not just from the bad pun. He knew these voices. He knew these men. They came from Pine Ridge, the little town nearby. He had made it there a few times, stretched to his breaking point before snapping back. Each time, he was able to last longer, but each time, he saw less and less reason to stay.
The place was crawling with supernatural beings living happy little lives. They were walking amongst oblivious humans—beings he hated now. Funny, since he used to be one. The humans didn’t seem to know or care. Blind, all of them. The supernatural beings were out and about, blissfully buying sweets at open-air stalls, flying overhead, moving casually through crowds on the sidewalks. As far as he could tell, none of them were squatting at the gates of Hell, prisoners of their own houses.
No one noticed him.
So how come, every so often, certain residents of the little town would pay a call, seeking him out, as these two were today?
If he remembered anything about his past life, Nyx recalled that people who came into your home uninvited were dangerous.
