by Mae Clair
Caden pushed further. “According to your son, you abandoned him and others like him. The Mothman is the last of the original group you left on Earth.”
The air grew icier, frigid.
Why mention the creature?
“Because I will take your burden.” Hopefully, his sanity was intact and the idea sprang from rational thought, not madness. “The cryptid and I are already bonded.”
Yes. The word was curt, almost hostile. His failure to rendezvous with me on Halloween is proof of that.
“Give Parker’s father some kind of closure, and I will make sure the Mothman is protected for the duration of my life. I’ll find a way to communicate and do whatever I can to ensure his safety and well-being.”
He is not an animal.
“He’s not human, either.”
But he once looked as you do. As my son does. And he possessed the same, if not greater, intelligence and compassion. That part of him is almost gone. It exists only in spurts now, brief moments of clarity. It will not be easy to communicate.
“I told you I’d find a way.” He had no idea how. Part of him regretted making the offer, but he owed Parker. Even if that boiled down to something as simple as bringing Floyd closure, he intended to fulfill the debt.
If you proceed with this offer, the price will be steep.
Caden frowned. “What does that mean?”
The day will arrive when you will be required to do something that won’t come easily.
He’d done a lot of things in his lifetime that hadn’t come easily. From losing his sister to a murderer, to nightmare memories of Vietnam and shooting Parker, he held plenty of regrets. He was also running out of patience. “Do we have a deal or not?”
Cold considered for the span of several heartbeats.
Fair enough. I will arrange closure for Parker’s father, and my debt to the Mothman is thus transferred to you. I will not return to your planet again.
“What about here? In the igloo?”
The air thinned, growing warmer. Caden could almost pinpoint the second when Cold withdrew. A light breeze scuttled through the open doorway and sent a handful of dried leaves swirling around his shoes.
Epilogue
July 6, 1983
“Whew!” Katie flipped the registration book closed and sank onto a stool behind the reception counter. The Parrish Hotel had been busy the last several days with guests checking in and out over the long holiday weekend. Boat rides, fireworks over the river, a town parade, and plenty of cookouts had filled the past three days. “That’s the last of our weekend guests to check out.”
“That’s nice.” Seated in a chair by the window, Eve sounded dreamy and far away.
The tone was typical of Katie’s friend lately, Eve still floating on the glow of being a newlywed. Her wedding to Caden had been beautiful, with the groom singing a love song to the bride in church. Afterward, the reception had carried well into the evening, a good portion of the town invited to the festivities. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, especially the happy couple, who later honeymooned in Key West, soaking up the tropical weather.
Not that it didn’t border on tropical now. The temperature was already in the low 80s and it was only eleven in the morning. The air conditioner kept the lobby pleasant, but the moment she stepped outside, sticky heat would plaster her from head to toe.
“Ryan told me about the letter Floyd got from Parker.” Abandoning the counter, Katie circled the desk, then dropped into a seat across from her friend.
How Indrid Cold had managed the feat, Katie had no idea, but she sensed Lach Evening was involved. The man parading as a human apparently had a number of abilities he hadn’t shared. After leaving Point Pleasant, Evening had followed through as promised, restoring Lyle’s mind while wiping his memory about his visit to the river town. The last Katie had heard, her ex had been in Pittsburg looking for work.
“I wonder why Cold waited so long to follow through with his promise to Caden?” Nine months after the fact seemed a long interval to Katie.
Shrugging, Eve plucked at a seam on her shorts. “I guess he wanted to make it seem believable Parker could have really left the country. Give everyone else time to forget. Caden was beginning to doubt he’d live up to his part of the bargain.”
Rumor had it the postmark had been from somewhere in South America, the penmanship and wording a dead ringer for Parker’s style. Floyd was convinced his son was safe and starting life over. He’d destroyed the message immediately, preventing anyone from tracing the source. The Mason County Sheriff’s Department kept Parker on the missing list, but otherwise looked the other way. If not for Shawn Preech, who Floyd made the mistake of confiding in, news likely never would have leaked.
Shawn had been a popular topic of town gossip after Suzanne announced she’d filed for divorce. A miscarriage over the winter, followed by rumors of Shawn’s infidelity, had destroyed any chance the feuding couple would ever repair their relationship. Suzanne had kicked Shawn out of the house immediately after filing, and he’d promptly moved in with his girlfriend. According to Sarah, she’d found some troubling things in Shawn’s family tree that left her shaken. She’d yet to tell Katie and Eve what they were, but apparently the Preech ancestry wasn’t as noble as Shawn had led others to believe.
“At least we haven’t been troubled by UFO sightings or visits from Men in Black,” Katie commented.
“Life is returning to normal,” Eve agreed.
The sightings had dwindled, then stopped altogether within the first weeks of November. Jerome had been disappointed, but explained flaps were limited to periods of time when the layers between dimensions were unusually weak. It had taken fifteen years from Point Pleasant’s last flap to the most recent. He fully expected a reoccurrence in the future, but kept himself busy by delving deeper into Mothman research in the interim.
Katie was tempted to ask Eve about the cryptid and if Caden had made progress in communicating with the creature, but had the impression it wasn’t something her friend liked to discuss. Caden made it a habit to venture into the TNT once every few weeks, but was usually tight-lipped about what he encountered there. Or so Ryan had told her.
Like the UFOs, Mothman sightings had dwindled. There were still occasional reports that cropped up, one as recent as last week when Chester Wilson swore he saw the monster soar over his barn. Old timers gathered to debate “the bird” over drinks in the River Café, and hotel guests often lounged on the porch rockers, eagerly reading through information on the TNT and anything else they could get their hands on.
Eve yawned and stretched. “I don’t know why I feel so lazy today.”
Katie smiled. “Maybe it’s being blissfully married. I think it agrees with you. Caden too.”
“No arguments on that front. What about you and Ryan?”
“What about us?”
Eve nodded toward the diamond engagement ring on Katie’s left hand. “Have you picked a date yet?”
“Aren’t you rushing things a little? He only proposed last week.” She was still floating on her own high, the idea of being happily married something that had seemed an improbability last year. “We have a lot to sort through, including living arrangements.”
“It’s wonderful he plans to adopt Sam.”
Warmth spread through Katie’s stomach. It had been important to Ryan that Sam was onboard with their marriage. A lot of guys wouldn’t have cared, but Ryan not only wanted her for his wife, he wanted Sam as his son. The evening Ryan sat down to chat with Sam had left the boy so overjoyed he hadn’t been able to sleep that night. He was finally going to have a father like other kids.
“We might do a fall wedding.” Katie had always loved autumn with its colorful bounty of pumpkins and brightly hued leaves. “Either that or wait until spring. It depends on how long the adoption process takes.”
The trill of the phone interrupted her. Eve started to stand but Katie shooed her back into
her seat. “I’ll get it.”
Leaning over the counter, she snatched up the receiver. “Good morning. You’ve reached the Parrish Hotel.”
“Yeah. I’d like to book a room.” The man’s voice on the other end was even, without accent. “I need something within the next month. Can you accommodate me?”
“What type of room would you like, and what dates did you have in mind?”
The man rattled off a few requirements, the oddest being that he wanted to book his stay open-ended. Katie stretched the phone cord, moving behind the counter to grab the registration book. Rates were reasonable, in line with the accommodations they offered, but most guests couldn’t afford an open-end reservation. After looking over availability, she suggested a second floor suite. “Given you don’t know how long you’ll be staying, you might want the extra living space.”
“That’s fine.” No hesitation.
Katie’s comment had caught Eve’s attention. Her friend stood, raising her eyebrows. The hotel only had three suites, the others all double or queen rooms with baths.
“I’ll need a credit card to hold your reservation.” Katie relayed the nightly rate, pen poised to jot down the information. The caller supplied a MasterCard number and expiration date.
“And the name on the card?
Katie nearly dropped the phone when the man answered. “Thank you.” She recovered quickly. “I believe I have everything I need. We’ll see you on Friday the twenty-third for check-in.”
“What was that about?” Eve asked after she’d hung up.
“A suite reservation for someone who booked an open-end stay.”
“I figured that much. Unusual, but not completely unheard of.” Eve stepped closer to the counter. “I was talking about your not-so-subtle look of shock when you asked for a name.”
Katie bit her lip. “I know who Q.M. is.”
“Q.M.?”
“From the Ouija board. Remember?”
“Oh. I’d forgotten.” Eve plainly conjured the memory from last autumn. “What does that have to do with the reservation?”
“Because the man who booked it is named Quentin Marsh.” Her gaze dropped to the entry she’d penned in the reservation book, her handwriting noticeably wobbly. Not surprising, given she had an inexplicable feeling something disastrous waited in the wings.
Biting her lip, she slammed the book shut.
Without a doubt, the Mothman would be at the heart of that unknown tragedy.
In case you missed it, keep reading for an excerpt from the first book in the Point Pleasant series,
A THOUSAND YESTERYEARS
Behind a legend lies the truth…
As a child, Eve Parrish lost her father and her best friend, Maggie Flynn, in a tragic bridge collapse. Fifteen years later, she returns to Point Pleasant to settle her deceased aunt’s estate. Though much has changed about the once thriving river community, the ghost of tragedy still weighs heavily on the town, as do rumors and sightings of the Mothman, a local legend. When Eve uncovers startling information about her aunt’s death, that legend is in danger of becoming all too real . . .
Caden Flynn is one of the few lucky survivors of the bridge collapse but blames himself for coercing his younger sister out that night. He’s carried that guilt for fifteen years, unaware of darker currents haunting the town. It isn’t long before Eve’s arrival unravels an old secret—one that places her and Caden in the crosshairs of a deadly killer . . .
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Prologue
December 15, 1967
Point Pleasant, West Virginia
“Do you think Caden Flynn will go?” Eve Parrish kept pace with her friend, Sarah, as a brisk December wind pushed them down Main Street toward the Crowne Theatre. Eager for a glimpse of the movie poster that had everyone in the tiny river town of Point Pleasant, West Virginia talking, she barely felt the sting on her cheeks. Her mother would box her ears if she knew what Eve was up to, but all the boys at school said the poster hung in the window, plain as day for anyone to see. That had to mean she could sneak a peek. She was twelve now, practically a teenager.
Her parents had called The Graduate racy, and Mrs. Quiggly, who sold brown eggs and fresh milk from her farm outside town, said the poster was shameless. She wanted to bring a petition against the theater and make them take the “vile thing” down.
“Silly, busybody,” Aunt Rosie had chided behind her back. Never one to get hung up on proper behavior, Aunt Rosie did artsy things like taking photographs and hosting moonlight picnics for friends. She even had a darkroom in her home and occasionally sold shots to the local paper who proudly displayed them with the byline Photo courtesy of Rosalind Parrish.
“I heard Caden tell Wyatt Fisher they should take their girlfriends to see it,” Sarah said, interrupting her thoughts.
Eve gasped. It was bad enough the boys might see a movie as shocking as The Graduate, but more appalling that girls would go, too.
“Maybe they’ll chicken out.” She had a hopeless crush on Caden, an awkward situation given he was eighteen and the brother of her friend, Maggie. Although careful not to make a fool of herself whenever Caden was around, she usually ended up tongue-tied.
Sarah shrugged and tugged the collar of her coat higher against the wind. Several cars drove by in the pre-holiday rush, the glow of headlights holding the night at bay. Sunset was still a half hour away, plenty of time for Eve and Sarah to reach the theater and ogle the poster. The movie didn’t open until next week, but the buzz it generated had already swept through their school.
“I wish Maggie was with us,” Eve said with a touch of melancholy.
Sarah rubbed her reddening nose. “Me, too.”
The walk to the Crowne was only a few blocks from the Parrish Hotel, owned by Eve’s parents and Aunt Rosie. Despite the short distance, it was cold enough to make her wish she’d brought a scarf. At least she’d have something titillating to share with Maggie once she saw the poster. Maybe her gushing about how improper the advertisement looked would make her friend smile.
“Do you think she really saw the Mothman?” Sarah’s voice was barely audible. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder as if fearing the giant birdlike humanoid would sweep from the sky. “Was she near the TNT?”
Eve shook her head.
A remote area of dense woods and small ponds, the TNT had once been used to store ammunition during World War II. Eve’s father had taken her there on a few occasions, allowing her to explore the abandoned weapons “igloos.” But ever since the Mothman was first spied in the region, she hadn’t been back. Her father said bad things happened there, and Mrs. Quiggly insisted the place was a haven for UFOs.
“She was visiting Nana and followed Mischief into the Witch Wood.”
A fat orange tabby, Mischief belonged to Maggie’s grandmother, an elderly woman who everyone called Nana. She lived in a sprawling house snuggled up to a thicket of woods at the farthest end of town. Eve and Maggie had dubbed the thicket the “Witch Wood” after discovering a sycamore tree that resembled an old woman with legs.
“But it’s too cold to go into the Witch Wood now,” Sarah protested.
Eve nodded. She, Maggie, and Sara occasionally played there, but usually in the spring and summer when the trees were green with leaves, making it easy to catch caterpillars and grasshoppers.
“Maggie was afraid Mischief would get lost.”
Sarah made a pffing sound. “As if! He’s always getting into trouble and always finds his way home. I wish she hadn’t followed him.”
“Me, too.” Eve bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. She’d visited her friend for a brief time yesterday, finding Maggie huddled beneath the blankets in her bedroom. She hadn’t been to school for three days. “She’s afraid to go outside.”
They had almost reached th
e theater. Farther down the street, traffic was lined up at the red light that led to the Silver Bridge. Her father would be home soon, returning from Gallipolis, a neighboring city nestled on the Ohio side of the river. He’d headed there earlier in the afternoon to meet a friend, and like everyone else, would need to cross the Silver Bridge.
“I heard the Mothman’s eyes are red,” Sarah said.
“Maggie thought so. She told me when she couldn’t find Mischief, she got an odd feeling, like something bad had happened. Her skin broke out in goose bumps.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. She rubbed her nose again. “My mom says people get a weird sensation when they see the Mothman. I’ve heard her talking about it to my dad when she thinks I’m not around.”
“My parents do the same thing.” How strange to be focused on something scary when everything around them reflected the festive mood of the coming Christmas holiday. The streetlights on Main were decorated with cheerful ribbons, wreaths, and pinecones, and a lighted Christmas tree brightened the display window of G. C. Murphy, the local five-and-dime. At the store entrance, a man in a Santa Claus suit called out holiday greetings and beckoned shoppers inside. A sense of excitement and seasonal cheer hung in the air.
“Maggie was scared.” Eve wet her lips, remembering what her friend had told her. “She thought she heard a noise. Like scraping, or someone digging.”
“What did she do?”
“She crept closer, but stayed hidden behind the trees. At least, she thought she was.”
There was no mistaking Sarah’s nervousness as she squeezed her mittened hands together. “But she wasn’t?”
Eve shook her head, only then realizing how frightened she was for her friend. A lot of people thought the Mothman was trying to warn the town about something terrible, like a looming disaster, and that’s why it kept reappearing. But Maggie said the creature was awful. A hideous monster with hateful eyes that bored into her soul. Those who’d seen it said its eyes were so ghastly, they couldn’t recall any other feature of its face. Rumored to be at least seven feet tall, it had large wings that allowed it to fly vertically like a helicopter. Most said it was gray in color, and the Mothman’s terrifying eyes glowed scarlet even in the daylight.