Page 8 of The Midnight Order
No one.
But when I turn back, pumping my arms to speed up, the feeling returns. That crawling tension that winds up your spine when someone’s behind you and getting closer.
I whimper as I finally clear the path and land on the wide breadth of my gravel drive. The feeling is gone, and I look at the path as I heave breaths, trying not to vomit like my stomach wants to.
What the hell was that place?
Trying to put it all out of my mind, I walk home, all the while watching behind me.
I can’t help but feel like it’s all in my head. I can’t believe that this town is getting to me in only two days.
“Keep it together, Dormund,” I tell myself, carefully walking up the steps to the front door, using the key to enter.
By the time dark falls, I’ve had another shockingly cold shower, made some soup from a can I found in the pantry, andpacked up twenty more boxes of Soliel’s things for either auction or trash.
The house is slowly emptying. Well, the downstairs, anyhow.
I tried to adjust the television to make the picture clearer, but I couldn’t figure out how to use the antennas on top and gave up. Now, I’m standing near the front windows, perusing the old spines of books on the shelves surrounding the television setup.
Most are romances, but some are books on the occult, specifically the study of cryptids, witches, and supernatural creatures.
Odd, I never knew Soliel was into that kind of thing. That makes guilt swim in my chest as I shift my eyes to a cobweb connecting the curtain to the wall.
There’s so much work to do here that I feel like it’ll drown me.
Something moves beyond the window, and I take a step back.
My hand clutched on the top of a dusty chair at the edge of the living room, I stare through the pane, my vision outlining each dark shape beyond: my Tahoe, the tree line, the porch railing.
I only caught it from the corner of my eye, but I knew it was someone in the yard.
The New Yorker in me wants to run out there and tell them to get off my property, but the saner side of me, the side in a strange town with strange people and vibes, scolds that idea entirely.
I back away from the window, never letting my eyes depart from the spot until I turn and run for the kitchen. Lifting the phone, I dial 9-1-1, sitting on the stool as my leg shakes with anxious energy until the dispatcher picks up.
“Someone’s in my yard,” I blurt at her before she gets a word in edgewise. “I live in the Dormund estate, temporarily,” Iadd, knowing I’m giving far too much information because I’m nervous.
“And someone’s in your yard? They’re not in the house, right?” the woman asks as I hear her clacking away on a keyboard.
“No. I don’t think so. I came to call you.”
“Are the doors locked?” she asks.
I swallow, feeling foolish now for calling. “Yeah, they are. It’s just… listen, I’m all alone out here, and earlier, while I was running, I swear someone was following me. Could you send someone out?”
“Yes, ma’am. I already have them en route. I was only trying to make conversation to calm you down,” she replies, and I exhale shakily.
“That’s nice of you. I’m sorry. This place is unnerving, and it’s been a long couple of days.”
She laughs. “Blackmoore is unnerving?”
“Yeah, have you not stopped and looked around lately?” I ask her as flashing lights shine through all the open windows. “They’re here. Thank you!” I tell her, hanging up as I meet the officers at the front door.
One is older and merely tips his hat at me as he walks the perimeter with his Mag-lite shining through the night. The other looks to be in his mid-thirties and is covered in tattoos.
Well, hello there, officer.
I try to remind myself I’m not here to start any seasonal flings and that someone was lurking in my yard, watching me through the window, but my eyes still wander up and down his muscular body.
