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“Are you at least getting good stuff for your project?” she asked. “I mean, that was the whole point, right? Your piece?”
Truthfully, I hadn’t even considered the project in days. At this point, with how I’d gotten to know Nox and Thorn, it felt a little invasive and rude to try to publish a piece about them, and I knew that even if I had tried to put something together now and make it vague enough to not directly involve them, it would just come off as disingenuous. I was a pretty terrible liar, after all.
“Actually, not so much,” I admitted with a small wince. “I had a ton of really interesting stuff, but as the pieces started to come together, I sort of lost the drive to finish it, and I definitely can’t run off into the world with the story I just told you.” I sighed as I aimlessly scrolled up and down on my laptop’s internet browser. “People would think it’s a hoax.”
“Maybe, but maybe not,” Blair said pointedly before shoving another handful of crackers in her mouth. “I mean, it’s a damned cool story no matter how people take it. You could try your hand at fiction?”
“Yeah, but it just feels… I don’t know, kind of disrespectful to try to make their struggle my personal gain,” I said.
Blair shrugged sympathetically. “Well, I’m glad you’re at least okay. I don’t mean for this to sound rude or anything, but you actually sound really good. Like, happy?”
“Thanks, I guess?” I said with a chuckle. “I don’t know how that could be taken as rude.”
“I mean, like, not to imply that you don’t always sound happy? Or that you usually sound like shit? I don’t know, man. I’m just trying to be nice.” Blair tried her best to explain, and I couldn’t help but laugh as she stumbled over her words. I hadn’t been gone very long, but I genuinely missed her. A sting of homesickness rushed through me as I wiped a single laughing tear away from the corner of my eye.
“Ugh, okay, I should hop off,” I said as I flipped open my notebook. “I’m gonna take a few notes and then make a snack or something.”
“Alright, dude, sounds good,” Blair responded. “Sleep tight, love you!”
“Love you, too.”
As soon as my screen went dark, I pulled up my phone’s contact list to enter a number. I’d found a single metaphysical shop within twenty-five miles of Tallpine, and according to its internet listing, it was closed for the day.
Hecate’s Cauldron, open Tuesday through Saturday, ten in the morning until six at night.
I saved the number in my phone and set a reminder in my alarms to give them a call shortly after they opened in the morning. I really hoped they’d be able to steer me in the right direction when it came to breaking the monsters’ curse.
Ever since I’d learned the truth, a knot of worry had begun to curl around my insides, reminding me that there was something else for me to consider that I hadn’t really given much thought to, and that was what Mr. Silver would do if a month went by and I was still here.
Nox, Ruse, and Thorn had given me no reason to assume that any other human offering to them had made it through the entire month, or their entire promised temporary stay. Would it be as simple as him just letting me go, or would he assume I knew too much? The last thing I wanted was to be on the bad side of a man who routinely fed innocent human lives to three monsters he kept in captivity in hopes they could give him more power—darker power.
My phone rang, making me jump in surprise. As if I had somehow summoned him with my own worries, Mr. Silver’s phone number flashed across the screen. I had no idea why he would be calling me, and for a moment, I considered just not answering.
He might be calling just to see if I would answer—to see if it was time to come clean up the mess of the monsters making a meal out of me.
“Hello?” I answered. I was too chicken-shit to let it go to voicemail quite yet, and didn’t want him coming to check on me himself. I had been here barely a week and was owed on paper three more. I had to buy myself as much time as I could to make sure I could free the monsters before dealing with Mr. Silver in person.
“Logan, hello there,” he said professionally. “Sorry to call so late in the evening again. As I said before, the time difference is difficult to navigate.”
I let out a friendly chuckle. “No problem at all. I was just relaxing for the night.”
“Wonderful,” he continued. “Well, I just thought I’d call to check in and see how the weekend went, and to see if you needed anything at all.”
“Nope, not that I can think of!” I assured him. In the back of my mind, I knew I was right in my assumption. If he just wanted to check in on me, he could have just sent an email, but he chose to call instead. Clearly, he was searching for some sort of proof of life—an instant confirmation or denial that I was alive and well.
His monsters hadn’t taken me quite yet.
“Perfect…” he mused. “Nothing new or exciting to report on your end?”
“Nope,” I responded. He was fishing. He wanted to know if his monsters had presented themselves yet. I wondered how many of his victims had told him about the strange happenings in the house. I wondered how many of his victims he insisted were seeing things, or hearing things. What a gaslighting asshole.
I refused to give him the satisfaction, so I dug my heels in and let him know that things were more than exceptionally fine on my end.
“Alright, perfect! Good to know my new place is in such capable hands,” he concluded. “As always, don’t be afraid to reach out if I can be of any help.
“Absolutely. Thanks for checking in!” I said happily, potentially laying on my ‘everything is beyond fine’ cheerfulness a little too thick.
“Of course,” he said finally before clicking off the phone.
