Page 70 of Some Kind of Haunted

“Nora’s place is too small and so is mine, but the antique store has beds,” he continues, swinging onto his bike. “We can all stay there. Be safe, under one roof, at night when it’s most dangerous out there. You good with that?”

“I had plans to take in some community theater, actually,” I tell him. “This will really dampen my support of local artisans.”

He shoots me a doleful look, but there is almost a hint of humor in his mouth. “I’ll drop you off at the knitting shop. You can fill in your brother and Nora. It might be daytime, but I want you three to stay together until we get a handle on what’s going on. Once the shop closes, stay put until I come get you guys.”

I nod and slide onto the back of his motorcycle, and without the same hesitation from before, I lean into him. I close my eyes and press my cheek to his back because I need the comfort and I think—foolishly, no doubt—maybe he does, too. Even if he might not want it.

For a few seconds, we’re both still and quiet, breathing in sync. Like I’ve been right about our matching heartbeats all along.

He doesn’t start the engine. I don’t say anything. There’s no sniping, no pulling away. We both just let ourselves settle.

But there’s a ticking clock. Literally and figuratively. Demons and Halloween and Feeds. Danger, as warned by a not-fully-lucid woman. I glance back at the house.

“What about Cleo?” I ask him in his ear.

Jack looks at the house, too. I can’t see his expression since I’m at his back. But he pauses. He clearly thinks something over before he fires up the motorcycle.

And he doesn’t answer my question before he drives away.

Chapter Twenty

When we get back to town, the street between Darling Knits & Notions and Jack’s diner is packed. There’s nowhere to park. There’s barely any room to breathe. It dawns on me that it’s another festival day again today—hence all the tables and tents we passed on the way in—but I have no idea what kind it’s supposed to be.

I don’t ask.

Jack pulls up in front of the knitting shop while people stream around us, ignoring the waiting traffic. I need to get off the bike, but it’s a hard-won thing to unwind my arms from around Jack. To slip away from that warmth and sense of comfort.

I make myself do it, then pull off the helmet and hand it to him. He gives me one long, enigmatic look, then he stows the helmet away.

“Stay in the light. I’ll be back,” he tells me.

It’s all he tells me before he roars away and I am left on the sidewalk, too many people irritably moving around me like I’m a boulder in a flowing river.

A big shadow engulfs the sidewalk between me and the store, but there’s a swath of light that offers an awkward path to the door.

I take it.

The knitting shop is bustling, so I have to maneuver my way around the press of people once I’m inside.

I texted Logan to meet me at the shop but I’m shocked to see he’s actually here. Inside the store. Not looming at the door, waiting for me to arrive so I can create some kind of buffer for his weirdness with Nora. Then again, there are at least fifteen customers shoved into the tiny store, so I suppose that’s buffer enough.

I look around for Nora, then stop abruptly when I notice the store is newly decorated. With a sea of . . . bizarre figurines. I squint at them, but they don’t go away. It’s like an army of little giant-eyed people took over the whole shop.

“What is all this?” I ask Nora as she checks someone out, waving to take in the alarming array of figurines. Everywhere.

“It’s Fall Figurine Days,” she says, cheerfully. Like it’s a good thing.

“It’s a fucking nightmare,” Logan mutters, suddenly next to me, voicing my thoughts exactly.

“I thought you didn’t dream,” Nora says sweetly.

I snort out a laugh. Logan slides me a look. But another customer comes up with questions for Nora, so we move out of the way.

“Where have you been?” he asks me.

His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s glaring. The glaring isn’t aimed at Nora, but I feel that she’s the recipient all the same, because I know it can’t be me. I haven’t been in his presence long enough to garner that level of brow wrinkles. Nora, by contrast, is glimmering her way around the shop, beaming at customers, and seemingly knowing what everyone wants before they think to ask for it.

Outrageous behavior.