Hemlock Veils

Chills scaled her arms, rising up her neck and to the crown of her scalp. Instinct told her to stand her ground; she did, planting her feet. So maybe some Hemlock Veils residents didn’t want her here, nor did this otherworldly force; but the forest did—this house did—and this magical bit of Mother Earth (yes, she could indeed say it was magic now, and wished to tell her father of it) felt more trustworthy than some uncertain humans and an unsteady wind. Or even a beast who probably had a little more than something to do with these clashing energies.

Just as she escaped the greenery, her phone vibrated in her pocket, startling her. It displayed a number she didn’t recognize, and she put it to her ear while walking south on Alder Street again, toward the main part of a semi-civilized town.

“Hey, Beth,” Brian said. “It’s me.”

“How’s it coming?”

“Looks great for the most part, but I’d rather talk in person. Where are you? Sheriff Taggart and I have been looking.” She wondered what Sheriff Taggart usually did all day in a town of no law-breakers—on days he didn’t have to contain an outsider. Suddenly, she was nervous, even though she hadn’t technically broken any rules.

“I took a walk.”

“A walk?”

She almost laughed. “Not through the forest. I was just taking a look around town. I’m turning back onto Clayton now, from Alder.”

“That means you saw the mansion,” he said, his tone enlightened.

“It’s…impressive.”

“It’s private. And that’s how Mr. Clayton likes it. You might not want to tell him you went snooping around his place.”

“Snooping? I was hardly snooping. I was just—”

He laughed. “It’s okay, Beth. I’m just messing with you. I’ll see you when you get here.”

She hung up with a simple goodbye, and as she neared the small and neglected Henry Street, she took a deep breath. It wasn’t that she thought Brian a bad person—in fact, most people would find his charismatic personality likable—but there was something about him that left her guarded. Perhaps it was simply because she had never let herself be wooed by any man who pursued her, and finally being free of all that used to tie her down exposed her. Part of her wished she had the excuse of her brother and job to hide behind again, just to make rejecting him that much easier.

And that thought made her heavy with grief, as well as regret that she thought it.

But something told her it wasn’t just her recent availability that made her uncomfortable with Brian. It was something about Brian himself—the way he was nothing she would ever want in a man, had she actually had enough experience to make a list. Regardless of the reason, she mentally prepared herself for the way he might use her car’s condition to his advantage. Mostly, as she walked she prepared the words she would use to reject him.

***

Brian stood outside the open garage of his shop, his navy-colored jumpsuit stained in oil. As though he’d had nothing else to do but wait for Elizabeth. He smiled, wiping his hands on a holey, stained rag and flinging it over his shoulder. “Enjoy your walk?” he asked when she reached him. Still he smiled the smile that could be owned only by Brian Dane.

“Very much,” she said, folding her arms. “So what’s the damage, Brian?”

“You’re lucky. Everything besides the alternator looks top-notch. I’m not sure where you got it, but it was in bad shape. I’m surprised it got you this far.”

She looked sheepishly to his feet. “A scrap yard is where I got it.”

“Ah. Trying to save a buck?”

She met his blue eyes, shrugging.

“Well, don’t worry. I won’t mark up your price. Tell you what, I’ll charge you what it’ll cost me to order the alternator and the very minimum hourly rate for labor, and that’s it. By the time we’re done with everything, you’re looking at two-fifty out the door. You won’t find a better deal.”

“Thank you, and I’m sure I won’t. How long will it take to get the part in?”

He rubbed the back of his neck with blackened fingertips, cringing in an overly dramatic way. “See, that’s the thing. Parts for a ’91 Saab 9000 aren’t easy to come by. I found a place that could get it to me in two days, and with it being the weekend that’s a miracle. So…looks like you’ll be sticking around for a while. Sorry, Beth.”

There it was. Secretly, she jumped for joy. Not because she would get to see Brian again, of course, but because a couple more days would be good for her cause in trying to win over the town. Or at least Taggart and Mr. Clayton. How she would do that, she didn’t know. A small part of her said to stay holed up in her motel room for the next couple of days, then leave town the very moment her car was ready, as she was sure Taggart would want.

“Thank you, Brian,” she said, trying not to smile too cheerfully. She retreated when he seemed to pick up on her excitement, a smile of his own twitching the corner of his mouth. “I’ll let you get to it.”

***

Elizabeth sat on the edge of her springy bed, staring out the large motel window. Tonight rain didn’t obstruct her view, only darkness. People probably mingled at the diner right now, maybe even talked about her. It was strange, and perhaps detrimental, that she would rather stare at trees in hopes of seeing the monster than chit-chat over a horribly bitter cup of coffee.

She stood, put on her light jacket, stuffed her motel key into her pocket, and left her room. Alone at the top curve of Red Cedar Loop, she took slow steps toward the diner. It was true what she’d said that morning, strange or not, about how she felt safe in these woods. Thoughts of that haunting wind from earlier, as well as this darkness, threatened that safety ever so slightly, but her mind and eyes adjusted quickly. She paused at the corner instead of crossing Clayton Road, when that same awareness of watching eyes hit her. Directly behind her, his stare felt like a physical pressure against her back. He was close.

She tried putting herself in Nicole’s shoes, ever so briefly; even Holly Farrell’s. Had they felt the same awareness before they’d been taken? Had there been any curiosity in them as they’d made eye contact with him, or had every emotion or thought been flooded by pure, unbridled fear?

Elizabeth turned, slowly. The chill up her spine left her wary, but curiosity—and the same amazement from the night before—won out. A branch cracked and leaves rustled a short distance ahead. She made out the large black silhouette of his mass, rising against a tree no more than ten feet away. He breathed, slow and deep.

She stepped closer, fighting her urge to run, and touched the trunk of a cedar, damp from the absence of sunshine. Again, the mysterious instinct that guided her confirmed he wouldn’t harm her. So why didn’t he take her? Why would he take someone like Nicole, and not her? Did her lack of fear threaten him? And why did he take Nicole in the first place, if his intention wasn’t to harm her?

“Beth?” Regina said from behind, interrupting her many questions. With a violent shake in the trees, the beast was gone. Elizabeth turned. “Is that you?” Across the street, Regina folded her arms over her uniform and stood in front of the diner, peering in Elizabeth’s direction.

Elizabeth crossed the street, reluctantly. “Yes, it’s me.”

Regina sighed and placed a hand to her heart, relaxing her shoulders. “Good Lord, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing out here anyway?” She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “And by the trees?”

“Nothing, I was just—”

“I swear.” She glanced around to make sure they were alone. “If Sheriff Taggart finds out…”

“What’s he going to do, put me in jail?”

With a hand on her hip, she harrumphed. “You’d be surprised.”

“He’s not going to find out, okay?” She made eye contact. “Right, Regina?”

Sighing, Regina lowered her shoulders. “I like you, Beth. You just worry us, you know.”