by Ira Robinson
The younger man paid no mind; it was not uncommon for Bart to do it. But Sam knew the reason for it and it hurt her deeply to see him act that way toward her. Regardless of if he believed her story or not, he was still her brother, and she did not deserve to be shunned by him.
She was too tired to deal with his crap and not sad watch him leave.
A few times during that morning, Sam jerked awake, having nodded off without realizing it. Her heavy lids were beyond her control and the veil over her mind was hard for her to keep cutting through. The sheer weight of exhaustion grew worse by the minute, but Sam still refused to give up and go home.
She finally stood and crossed the room, each step a trial, to the coffee maker. Noah had replaced the old stuff with a new brew not long before. The caffeine might help stir her a little.
She placed it on the desk and about to sit when she noticed someone standing near the front window of the department. They were staring inside.
Sam squinted against the light and the soreness of her eyes, trying to catch a better view of whoever it could be.
She was an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties, with longish hair past her shoulders, though Sam was unable to see just how far beyond it might be. She wore a light jacket and jeans, and there were papers tucked against her chest.
When the woman noticed Sam's stare, she began to walk away, but stopped after a few feet. She turned to face Sam once more. Her passive expression morphed into a frown.
Instead of taking her seat, Sam walked to the front door, curious about why this woman was giving her attention. Why the frown? Had Sam done something to offender without knowing?
She tried not to pass instant judgment, but after her encounter with Bart during the night, she was raw and sensitive.
The woman saw her approach and sidled away before Sam reached the door, swinging it open. She seemed to walk with a slight limp and pushed herself faster as Sam crossed the distance between them.
Sam tapped her on the shoulder, bringing her to a halt. "Was there something you needed?" Sam asked. She put on airs of helpful pleasantry, though, inside, she roiled.
The woman turned to her and tried to smile, but Sam could see there was concern in the gaze she returned. A folder she carried almost slipped out of her grip, but she recovered it quickly, splaying her long fingers across it before it could fall to the ground.
Sam caught a glance of court documents before the woman tucked it all together again.
"Oh, no, nothing. I am sorry," she said, her voice slightly raspy. "I didn't mean to bother you."
"Why were you staring at me?" Sam asked, her arms dropping to her sides. She kept her stance on the defensive, not knowing what the woman might have in her mind.
"I was..." She hesitated, clutching the papers tighter. "Listen, not here. Not right now."
She managed one hand free and reached out to touch Sam's forearm. "Come to my home tonight. I will be there at around eight." She rattled off her address to Sam, a road she recognized as being on the outskirts of town, not far from the campgrounds. "Can you do that?"
She turned away and started to walk, heading for the courthouse next to the police department. She did not look for an answer, though Sam nodded her way. She was through the doorway before Sam could stop her again.
Samantha thought about chasing her and demanding more information, but the woman seemed to make it clear she did not want to talk to her there. It all added to her befuddlement and anxiety over the past few days, but if she pressed the issue, she might not get an answer at all.
The bell on the door rang as she went back inside and sat at her desk, the cooling liquid in her cup no longer needed as her mind raced over the encounter.
Sam did not know if she should bother trying to go home and catch a nap before making her way to the woman's house.
The pressure of the fatigue on her brain finally made the risk a necessary one.
Chapter 12
The house was small, set back from the thin, two-lane road which led away from Tanglewood to the north.
Most of this area was farmland, broken apart by families which owned those acres for many generations. They were passed down from father to son in a long string of succession. Most born into the business stayed with that same business, and a lot of the food grown on them was used by Tanglewood, itself, in some way.
Before Sam left the police department to doze - fitfully - at home for a few hours, she took a little time to look up the address of the woman she was to meet, trying to anticipate what she could before stepping into whatever the woman had in mind.
There was not much information beyond her name - Odessa Tucker - and that she had never really been in any trouble with the police before. She was, for all Sam could discover, just a person who had lived in town all her life, as the rest of her family had, working the tracts surrounding their home.
So what did she want with Sam? And why did Sam have a nagging feeling she was not going to like it?
Sam considered not showing up, to let go of the encounter she had with Odessa and shrug it away. She was tired, more than she had been in a long time, and had enough going on in her life as it was. But what if the things she had been through had something to do with the old woman?
She had to take the chance.
She pulled into the lengthy driveway leading to the house, the sunlight dimmed to near nothingness. She had to squint to make out much detail of the place, but from what Sam could see, it was like so many others around the town's demesne.
Two stories rose above the tall grass surrounding it, while a barn nearby had a bigger footprint. There was a silo standing proud next to the barn, its glory days long past. Even in the dimming light, the rust across its surface shadowed what little was left of the sun.
The whole place looked like it had not seen the work of a handyman in some time, with everything crumbling into disrepair. Sam had noticed the woman lived alone; perhaps she could no longer handle the running of the farm by herself.
The car idled softly while Sam stared, her heart pounding in waves. She swallowed, trying to contain her nervousness while deciding if she should just turn it around and go on home.
To what, though? To the risk of encountering the figure again without having any answers? Something had to be done to quell the spinning her life had taken on. Something had to be able to help her get things back to a sense of normal.
That desperation finally motivated her to put the car in park and shut it down. She climbed out of the door into a breeze. Soft odors of cows from a nearby farm were carried on it. Sam wrinkled her nose for a moment, but it was not an unfamiliar smell. Her shoulders hunched a little in the chill air and she took the steps to bring her to the front door of the house.
It opened before she got to it.
Odessa's short, thin figure stood in the light filtering from inside the house. Sam managed a smile when she thought she was close enough for the other woman to see.
Odessa said nothing, but moved aside so Sam could come indoors. She hesitated only a moment before complying, coming into the warmth of the home.
"Hello, Mrs. Tucker," Sam bent her head at her as she passed by.
The woman closed the door before turning to Sam and said, "Please, just Odessa."
Sam nodded again in acknowledgment. "I hope now is a good time."
She glanced around the room, taking in the myriad knick-knacks everywhere. Figurines took up much of the free space along the walls, with wooden shelves holding them in place. They looked hand-built, but they accented the dark paint.
She spotted a couch and two chairs placed in a triangle, and on one of the chairs a small tabby cat perched, watching the movements of the stranger entering its home.
She turned back to Odessa, who said, "It's as good a time as any, I suppose."
Odessa trundled past her and started toward an archway along one of the walls. Light bloomed from there and the pinpoints of reflections of metal from the kitchen appliances.
"Would you like something to drink?" Odessa asked. The cat saw where the woman was going and jumped down from the chair, trailing her with its tail upraised inquisitively.
"Coffee would be fine, if you have it," Sam replied, stepping toward the kitchen, herself. Discomfort at being in a strange place with someone she did not really know made her hesitant, but she wanted to keep an open mind.
"Sure, we have that, don't we Percy?" Sam saw the old woman glance down to the cat rubbing against her legs, twining itself slowly between them.
"Percy?" When Sam said the word, the cat stopped and gazed her way, its tail reflexively stroking against the pant leg of its owner.
"Oh, yes, his name is actually Persimmon, but he only seems to respond to Percy." Odessa bent to pet him briefly before returning to the sink to pour water from the tap into the coffee pot she held in her other hand. "He also responds to the sound of bags opening, but I think that's just the beggar side of him."
Percy's tail shot straight at the words, as if he understood what was being said, and sauntered away from his owner. He came nearer to Sam, who bent and dropped her arm toward the floor. Percy sniffed her for a moment before rubbing his face against her outstretched palm.
Despite herself, Sam found petting the cat relaxed her considerably. It was such a common gesture, something she had done to dozens of other kittens over the years, that doing it here lifted her, at least in a small way.
She smiled at Percy, and the cat responded by stepping from her, heading back to his former perch.
"He's a pretty one." said Sam, turning away from the dark gray fur-ball.
"He knows it." Odessa switched the coffee maker on and turned her way. She stretched out her hand, offering Sam a chair at the tiny dining table near the corner of the room. "Please, sit."
Sam did, but only after Odessa sat, herself. The warmth of the home pressed on her a bit, but she kept her coat on. It was a small comfort to know she could walk out of the house any time if she needed to, though she did not expect something like that would be necessary.
"So what can I do for you, Odessa? Why did you want to see me?"
The woman put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, letting her chin rest against the palms of her hands. She stared at Sam for a long time. Sam's anxiety returned, twinging against the base of her skull and her stomach.
Finally, Odessa said, "There's something dark about you."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"I saw it when I passed by you today. Please don't take it wrong," she added as she noticed Sam's growing glower. "I don't mean to offend. But when you were sitting there at your desk, it hit me hard. Something dark has attached itself to you."
The words stung Sam, but she immediately recognized what Odessa was sensing. She thought of her encounters with the man in the hat for the past few days and shuddered.
She noticed and pressed on. "So you know what I'm meaning." When Sam nodded, Odessa said, "You've seen it?"
Sam acknowledged yes again, though hesitating. The terrible way Bart treated her when she tried to talk to him about it was still there, as raw and fresh as if it just happened. She was not sure she wanted to go through it again, least of all with a stranger.
Yet this woman did not seem like she would be the same.
If she could see something was wrong, Sam might have some hope for answers, after all.
She remained closed mouthed, though, to find what the lady had to offer.
Odessa continued. "Since I was very young, I have been able to see things most people are completely unaware of." She took a sip from her cup and sat back a little in her chair. "For a long time, I thought it was normal, something everyone was able to do. Spirits would come to talk to me, to tell me their stories. Other times, they would give me warnings."
Sam had, of course, heard of people who could manage such things, but she had never met anyone who claimed they could commune with the dead. She was not sure if she believed her, but, for now, she would take her at face-value. The candor of the woman was surprising and refreshing, especially after what she had gone through with Bart.
She nodded, prompting Odessa press on.
"I realized as I grew older my friends were not able to do those kind of things, and decided it was best to keep quiet about it. But still they have been a part of me, and I've been able to help people in certain ways through the years."
Her eyes locked on Sam's and held steady. "I think I can help you, too, Samantha."
"How do you know my name? I never told it to you."
"Nothing magical there, dear," she said, a grin coming to her face. It brightened greatly when she smiled, the lines of age dripping away from her. "I asked around. Being the only woman on the police force made that part easy."
Sam flushed with red as she smirked back. Of course she would be recognizable.
She took a sip of her own coffee to cover the embarrassment a bit before saying, "So what do you think you can do to help me? Do you even know what it is for sure?"
The smile faded as Odessa responded. "No, not positively. I know what it feels like, but not necessarily what it is. That may be good enough." She raised her hand, "For a start, you need to tell me what you've seen."
Sam decided she could trust the woman, at least for the moment. Telling her story would do no harm, and the impression of Odessa was not one of maliciousness or like she was playing a joke. She seemed genuinely serious about what she was telling Sam. The more she thought about it, the more she realized Odessa took as much of a chance with Sam as Sam would with her.
She did not have to tell Sam about what she could do and, even if Sam was not sure she could be totally believed, it had been a risk on the older woman's part too.
Odessa waited in silence, sipping her coffee once in a while as Sam fought through the conflict in her mind. She seemed fully aware of the argument happening within.
When Sam finally opened her mouth and let the words spill out, Odessa kept her eyes on her, taking everything in as it came.
The cat roamed into the room when she spoke about how the bugs attacked her the night before. He jumped on the table between the two women as Sam stretched out an arm and showed the trails of scratches and bites across her skin, sniffing at the places she pointed out.
Sam could not help but smile slightly at the way the cat seemed just as fascinated with her story as Odessa, herself. He finally sat near the edge of the table, watching back and forth as Sam talked.
When Sam finished, she leaned into the chair and scratched at a spot behind Percy's ear. He closed his eyes in pleasure and turned his head a bit to have her scratch another part.
Odessa was silent for many moments, and, with each passing one, Sam felt her stomach twist up more and more. But the woman did not seem like she was trying to hold back laughter or that she thought Sam was crazy. Perhaps she was genuinely mulling over what was said and taking it seriously, but the silence did not help the nausea.
Odessa eventually nodded, and said, "The darkness I saw makes sense now."
At her words, the clutch of her worries momentarily broke free, and she sighed deeply as it faded away quickly. "So what do you think?"
"There's a lot of work to do." Odessa put her arms on the table and rested her weight against them as she leaned forward a bit. "I think the thing that's gotten on to you is feeding on you. Your fears being the strongest. I can't say for sure what it is, and there are all kinds of possibilities. There are dark things in this world, especially around here, that find their greatest pleasure is to torment." She raised a brow. "They all come down to the same basic thing. They want you afraid, and they feast on the energy it gives."
Sam leaned back. "Is it a demon?"
"Mayhap. Or kin to it." She stood, taking her cup with her to the counter to pour another. The cat lifted his head and watched her, but then put it down again when he realized it was not something for him. "In any case, it's not from this world. Maybe it s
nuck in through the cracks and found its way to you."
"How? And why me?" Sam could not help the tingles of dread that crept back into her body. Why should she be the one targeted by this thing?
"I can't tell you either of those. It could have been the night you spent in the woods. There are a lot of places out there where the walls between worlds seem to be thin." Sam was not sure what she meant by that, but the older woman continued on before she could press for an answer. "Whatever the case may be, the solution is the same. The connection has to be severed."