Page 42 of Grim Tidings

“You’re being weird,” she says, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “Nice,” she explains.

“I can be nice.”

“Not to me.” She finds a pumpkin seed on her skirt and flicks it away. “Have you been possessed by the guy who works over at the inn?”

“What guy?”

“There’s a Poltergeist at the bed-and-breakfast. The one on the circle.”

“Huh.” I hit my signal. “Didn’t know that.”

She nods with a hum, peering out her window. “Lots of spirits drifting around this town.”

Of that, I am aware. Annapolis is a hotbed of paranormal activity. Something about its location on the Eastern Seaboard and its bloody history. I don’t know. As an ancient being myself, I try not to concern myself with the specifics.

I came to this tiny portside town a decade ago, and I’ll likely leave before the next decade is up. If I stay too long in one place, people start having questions about the bartender who never ages. Guardians are assigned regions, not people. We’re supposed to watch over our flocks like good little shepherds, making sure no sheep strays.

I glance at Darcy from the corner of my eye. Or gets eaten by the wolves.

She was right when she said death comes for us all, but I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to help. In all my many years of existence, I’ve never witnessed a death that felt necessary. Or fair. Or even decent.

I died alone with my face in the dirt. I don’t want that for anyone else.

“Where are we going?” Darcy asks.

“To cross an item off your list.” Now that we’re just outside of downtown, the roads smooth out. “The sooner I know what you know, the better.”

“It’s not much,” she warns.

“In that case, why don’t you just tell me?” It’s an effort to keep my voice light and not immediately sink into a demand. But I promised myself in the hallway last night that I’m not going to let my frustration mangle me into someone unrecognizable.

Darcy scoffs. “Yeah, okay. If I told you what I know, would you still let me help?”

I’m not sure I would. It’s too important to trust to someone else. Too much of my future hangs in the balance.

Darcy crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s what I thought.”

We drive the rest of the way in silence, bumping along in the truck. I want to turn on the radio to fill the quiet, but I also don’t want her to think I’m irritated by the quiet, so I don’t do anything. I keep my hands on the wheel, my eyes ahead, and try not to notice the way her thigh keeps bumping into mine on every turn.

I need a bigger car. Something with a divide between the seats. A center console, at least. Or maybe a retractable wall.

“What are you thinking about?” Darcy asks as I slow down, pulling into an unmarked gravel driveway. “Your face is doing weird things.”

“I’m thinking about getting a minivan,” I tell her. I jerk the truck into park and cut the engine. The silence becomes oppressive. I roll my shoulders back and try to release the heavy knot beneath my wings. They’re not exactly thrilled about staying hidden while in close proximity to dark magic. “We’re here.”

Darcy frowns through the windshield. “Which is where?”

I nod at a small wooden sign at the edge of a dense thicket.

BOAT RAMP

Except the word RAMP is missing a P, and the sign itself is listing slightly to the left.

“What’s a boat ram?”

“Boat ramp,” I clarify. I reach over her lap and wedge the door open. The truck is old, and prone to more than a few quirks. “You said you wanted to jump into a lake. There are no lakes around here, so I figured the Severn River would do.”

Darcy stares at me. “It’s the middle of October.”