Darkness Falls

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  The drink I intended to swallow, nearly got spit out all over the table. I grabbed a napkin. That water was not going down, there was too much laughter behind it. I managed with the help of the napkin to not be entirely ungraceful about it. No one got hurt, anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” said Miles, patting my back as I alternately choked and laughed. “Next time I say something funny, I’ll make sure you’re not in the middle of taking a drink.”

  I nodded, wiping tears from my eyes with the un-soaked napkin Jenny handed me.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I said, fanning my face with my hand as I caught my breath. “Go on with your story, Xander.”

  “Okay. So cutting to the chase, this guy is a visiting professor. There was disagreement as to whether he should be brought in or not. From what my cousin says, there was a big scandal at the college he was at. Formal accusations were brought against him by a female student, but later dropped.”

  “Okay…” said Miles. “So there was disagreement over whether or not to hire him to teach here. What was the argument in favor of?”

  “He got his degree here,” said Xander. “He had great references from the professors who were teaching at that time, they think he’s great. With one of the tenured professors going on sabbatical, the department knew they’d need a temporary instructor for the 101 classes. They’d been looking. His history with the college and the references from professors in the department here at North Glen Haven, got him the job.”

  “People can be falsely accused of things,” I said slowly, “but this guy gave me a major case of the creeps. I had an awful feeling when I looked at him. A Red Alert feeling, only stronger than any I’ve ever had.”

  “That’s disturbing, considering the kind of criminals you’ve faced before,” said Miles, looking at me with concern.

  I looked back at Miles, and nodded.

  “I have to take the guy’s class,” said Xander. “It’s required, and it’s the only Soc class on a day and time that I don’t already have a class. I can’t see him giving me any problems, though.”

  We all laughed.

  “So what’s this guy’s name?” asked John.

  “It’s Professor Ryan Mead,” said Xander.

  I began to choke on another sip of water. It took me a while to be able to speak again after that, my vocal chords just wouldn’t work. Miles alternately patted and rubbed my back, until I could talk.

  I turned to look at Miles and said, “The Soc class I’m taking… it’s being taught by Professor Mead.”

  Chapter 2

  “It’s not his reputation so much as the feeling I got,” I said, as I handed Miles a mug of hot tea and then curled up on the couch beside him, pulling the couch throw over my lap.

  “Are you cold?” Miles asked, his arm around me.

  “No, but if I end up with a cat on my lap, I don’t want their little claws kneading and pulling threads on my lovely silk nightgown,” I said, admiring the soft crimson rose fabric as I reached for my own mug, which was on the coffee table.

  “Those claws can sure get hung on things, can’t they. They’ll probably need trimmed again soon.”

  “Easier said than done,” I commented. “I don’t know how people without superpowers ever manage it. Night and Pandora are not exactly cooperative.”

  “No… no, they aren’t,” Miles laughed softly, remembering what little pills our cats could be when there was something they didn’t want to do, or have done to them.

  Speaking of those two, Pandora hopped up on the couch and draped herself over one of Miles’ pajama clad knees. Night was right behind her, and settled on my lap. I stroked his soft fur as Miles tried to reposition Pandora. She was getting a little large for one knee.

  Miles’ phone vibrated, alerting him that he had a call.

  “Wonder who that could be?” said Miles, as he looked at the clock on the mantle, and managed to retrieve his cell phone from the coffee table without dumping Pandora off of his knee and onto the floor.

  “You could just use your abilities,” I commented, and a smile flashed across Miles’ face.

  “I forget I have them sometimes,” he said, as he looked at the name and number displayed on the screen of his phone. “It’s Morgan.”

  “Oh,” I said, as Miles answered. I remembered him talking about Morgan, they were associated in business, and had quickly become friends.

  “Hi, Morgan. Doing great, how about you and Sarah? Is she enjoying the Inn? Good, I’m glad. Anika’s wonderful, she’s sitting here beside me.” Miles smiled at me, and gently squeezed my knee. “I’m leaning more toward using our own estate, actually. We’ve talked about that off and on, one wing for lodging, the other as a museum. We’ll see. Absolutely, I’ll be sure and let you know. No kidding, really? The world just got smaller. That’s right, she did. I’m sure she could, what she accomplished is amazing. We’d love to see you, how about next Saturday, a week from tomorrow? We’re in Glen Haven right now, getting settled in our apartment before school starts. We’ll be back at the estate next weekend, though. Will that work for you and Sarah? You’ve got a bit of a drive, don’t you… how about one o’ clock in the afternoon. Great. No problem, we’ll look forward to seeing you. Sounds good, see you then.

  I waited to hear what all that was about.

  “The last time I saw Morgan, he talked about an Inn he was looking to buy. It belonged to the family of his best friend Sarah, but they were selling it, and that would have left her without a job and a place to live.”

  “What kind of family does that?” I wanted to know.

  “I take it Sarah has never been high on their list of priorities. Anyway, when I realized this was the same Inn I was considering purchasing, I bowed out. Morgan appreciated that, of course. If we were both bidding, it would have driven up the price. The reason he called though, is that Sarah has an old family mystery dating back to 1901 that they’re trying to solve, and Morgan thought of you and what you accomplished. Especially when he found telegrams pertaining to the mystery, from none other than my younger brother, James.”

  “No way!” I said.

  “You heard me right, crazy as that is. So they’d like to come by and talk about their mystery, and see if you can give them any tips on investigating. They’re hoping we can shed some light on it because of the Bannerman family connection.”

  “Well since it involved James, you probably could.”

  “Yes, I know the mystery they’re trying to solve without even having to ask. I could tell them all about it, I was there when it took place. But of course I can’t do that, not unless I can think of a reason for having that information that doesn’t involve being James’ older brother.”

  “No kidding! You be very careful, Mister.”

  “I will. Very careful. The subject of being careful brings us back to the conversation at hand,” Miles said. “What concerns me most is the feeling you had and the darkness hovering over this professor, and his attitude towards you at the restaurant. Whatever the guy was charged with, it involved a female student, but if that’s all it was and since the charges were dropped, then that would be of less concern as long as you were never under any circumstances alone with the guy.”

  “I wouldn’t ever be alone with any other guy anyway,” I said.

  “Good,” Miles said, putting his arm around me again. “It does concern me, that this guy deliberately stood in your way. It’s disturbing what he said to you. On top of that, he watched you until we had the blinds closed on the window looking out on the rest of the dining room.”

  “I don’t like that either. I’m just like Xander though, this is the only class of that kind on a day and time that works with the rest of my schedule.”

  “I wish you were in anthropology with me,” said Miles, giving that some thought. “We could both drop those classes, and take one in the summer, together.”

  “Oh, that’s so tempting,” I said. “But we wouldn’t have the summer at the castle, then.” />
  “We’d have most of it. Summer classes are five days a week, so they’re over much faster than a regular semester.”

  “If I don’t drop the class, at least Xander will be there too,” I said.

  Miles absentmindedly traced circles on my shoulder as he thought.

  “So you’re still considering staying in the class?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what to do. I don’t like any of the options that are available. I want to get all of these required courses that have nothing to do with my major, completely behind me this year. I also don’t want a class intruding on our summer. But then there are all of the things you said, to consider.”

  We sat in silence for several minutes, considering.

  “I’m not going to order you around and tell you what to do, even though the thought of you staying in this class concerns me. I don’t want that kind of relationship,” said Miles, gently squeezing my shoulder. “If you stay in the class, then it’s reassuring that Xander will also be there, and I know he’ll watch out for you. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I want you to be smart, though. The way you felt when you were near that guy and the darkness you saw, are both of major concern. You’ve got good instincts, Anika, and they’ve never steered you wrong. Don’t start questioning their validity and trying to talk yourself out of them. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I nodded.

  “It’s better to keep yourself safe, than to get all of the required non-major courses behind you this year, or to free up our summer.”

  I nodded again.

  “If you decide to stick with your schedule the way it is, I want you to promise me you’ll drop the class if this guy gives you any trouble, or makes you uncomfortable in any way.”

  I nodded again.

  “Is that a promise?” asked Miles.

  “Yes. I promise, I’ll drop the class if that happens.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  Neither of us commented on it, but we both realized when I made that promise that I wasn’t going to remove the class from my schedule.

  ~*~

  Hours later, I lay wide awake watching the minutes tick by on the clock on my nightstand. I envied both my husband and my dog, that they could fall asleep so easily.

  Over and over in my mind, the thought of what I felt and saw when Professor Mead stood in my way, continued to play.

  I slowly tried to slide out of bed without waking Miles, but his arms tightened around me. I waited a few seconds and tried again, without success. He was not letting go. I tried again, and then started to laugh, as he squeezed even tighter. I could breathe, and I managed to laugh, but that was about all I could do!

  “You’re not really asleep, are you,” I said.

  “What tipped you off?” Miles asked.

  “The fact that I can’t sneak out of bed,” I said.

  “So where were you planning on sneaking off to?” asked Miles.

  “Not to chase bad guys, that’s for sure. And the apartment doesn’t give me much room to wander.”

  Miles laughed at that, and I continued.

  “I thought I’d get my laptop and do some research, rather than lie here wide awake with my thoughts swirling like mad.”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing, and I like your idea better. Would you like ice cream with that?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Then you get the laptop, I’ll get the ice cream, and meet you back here.”

  “Okay,” I smiled.

  Several minutes later, pillows piled behind us and laptop in front of us, we were ready to investigate. I went to the college’s website which gave us more information about Professor Mead. Full name, colleges where he previously taught, where he was from… then used that list to search the internet for information.

  “No, you do not need ice cream,” Miles said, gently pushing Pandora away from his bowl. “Oh, I see. You two are double-teaming me. I’ll have to resort to drastic measures, then…”

  Both cats floated to the foot of the bed.

  “How long do you think that’ll work?” I asked, most of my focus on weeding through search results.

  “Not long,” said Miles, as they returned and were floated to the foot of the bed again. “They certainly are persistent… alright kids, I’ll have to resort to even more drastic measures.”

  Pandora bounded back towards him, and suddenly stopped. She stood up with her feet against—nothing—and sniffed, and looked. Both cats searched and examined, but could find no way to get closer.

  “It’s amazing what you can do,” I said, looking up from the computer. “Now tell me this. With your quick reflexes, the fact that this is second-nature again, and all that you’re able to do—how are you going to keep from using your abilities when you’re on the basketball court?”

  Miles gave a low whistle as he considered that.

  “Good question. But, since I’ve never used these powers when playing basketball, maybe it won’t be so difficult after all.”

  I looked back at the computer screen and sighed in frustration. “I hate when that happens… there’s an old news article, but when I click on it, then it says the page is no longer there.”

  “I hate that too,” agreed Miles. “Here, let me take a turn at searching—your ice cream is melting.”

  I handed over the laptop and took up my bowl.

  “Do you know what I like about living in our apartment?” I asked, scooping up a spoonful.

  “What’s that?” Miles replied, focused on the information on the screen of the laptop.

  “The kitchen is so much closer,” I said.

  “That’s certainly handy, isn’t it,” said Miles.

  “If we were at the estate and tried to bring ice cream back to our room, it would all melt by the time we got there.”

  “I think you’re right,” Miles smiled, still looking at the screen.

  I enjoyed my ice cream in silence, so Miles could concentrate. When I was through, I got out of bed to carry our bowls back to the kitchen, then stopped abruptly.

  “Uh, dear?” I asked.

  “Yes?” Miles looked up.

  “Could you remove the force field please, so I can leave the room?”

  “Oh, sorry!” he said, and instantly my way was unimpeded.

  It really was more convenient living in a smaller place, and so cozy, too. I love the estate, and I love living there, and I love our room there… but there were times I thought I might like living in the guest house better, even though it was so small.

  I felt like Goldilocks. Too big, too little, but this apartment was just right.

  I put the bowls in the dishwasher, grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge, and walked back to our bedroom to see if Miles uncovered any information yet.

  “Thank you,” he said, as I crawled back in bed and handed him a water bottle, his eyes never leaving the screen.

  “Find anything?”

  “Not as much as I’d expect, from what Xander had to say at dinner this evening. I’m still looking, though.”

  I read over Miles’ shoulder as he tried various search combinations and sorted through results.

  “Here’s a list of graduating seniors from the high school he attended in 1996. Let’s see if they have an online yearbook, or anything else…”

  “Bingo, there it is,” I said, pointing to a search result.

  “Let’s look him up, then,” Miles said, searching for his name. “He’s listed on only one page. He must not have been involved in any school sports or other activities.”

  Miles scrolled to the page number listed, but in the rectangle above his name were the words photo unavailable.

  “I guess that doesn’t tell us much,” I said.

  “What were you involved in when you were in high school?” asked Miles.

  “I was in choir, and on a few committees. Not when I was a senior, though. I was busy working, and couldn’t afford the time or the money for anything non-essential, after Dad lost his
job and Doreen was so sick.”

  “Okay. So… let’s look at past yearbooks and see if he’s in any of those.”

  We searched his junior and sophomore yearbooks with no more success than before, but the yearbook from his freshman year was a different story.

  “Oh! There are several pages in the index that list his name,” I pointed out excitedly.

  “There he is…” said Miles, as we both looked intently at the screen.

  I looked at the photo of the swim team and tried to see the guy at the restaurant.

  “The image is too small to pick him out of a group photo, what do the others look like?” I asked, as Miles went to the next page.

  “Too bad these are all group shots,” Miles said. “The images don’t have much detail. Moving on to the last one now, the actual yearbook photo.”

  This yearbook did indeed yield a photo of Ryan Mead. We spent several minutes studying it.

  “He’s thinner,” I finally said. “He looks a lot different. But, he was only fifteen in this photo. Twenty-three-years have gone by since then.”

  Miles started another search.

  “Let’s see if we can find a life event that would explain the difference between his freshman year, and the rest of the time he was in high school… starting with obituaries.”

  We scanned the results as Miles scrolled down the screen.

  “Oh, how sad…” my voice trailed off.

  Ryan Mead’s parents were killed when the private plane his father was flying, crashed. His name, and that of a grandmother, were the only relatives mentioned.

  We digested this news for a moment.

  “That would explain the change in involvement reflected by the yearbooks,” said Miles. “I have to say, I feel bad for the guy, seeing this… when he was young, that is. It reminds me of Second-Miles losing his parents.”

  “There have to be articles about the accident,” I said, thinking the same thing Miles was.

  It took several minutes to weed through the various news articles before we were convinced, based on the investigators’ findings, that it really was an accident.