Fear Not the Dark

by Susan Murray

  The big black animal (maybe a pony?) stood there in the middle of Lake Drive, its silky black fur flowing like a waterfall over noble neck and shoulders as it stared at Marley, unblinking. Marley could see that the animal wore a golden chain around its neck like a collar and concluded it must be somebody’s escaped pet out for an unrestrained ramble.

  Tufted black ears swept forward on either side of the beast’s sensitive face. Huge dark eyes regarded her solemnly. Despite not being a unicorn the animal was a very attractive specimen indeed. But there was no room to drive around and it stood blocking the road.

  Finally Marley rolled down the window a little and leaned out for a closer look. Had it escaped from the circus? Just then the pony made a chuffing sound and rolled its head to one side, baring long sharp teeth, its tongue lolling out. Marley had never seen a pony with teeth like that. She was a little relieved when the animal finally turned and trotted smoothly off the road and into the trees, giving her one last look over its shoulder before it disappeared into the curling mist.

  By the time Marley parked her Jeep behind Uncle Max’s house in Uptown she was feeling pretty wound up from her long day. The unexpected interview and its aftermath had touched off a serious craving in Marley for a relaxing cup of her favorite special peppermint tea, the kind her friend Rosa best knew how to make. Deciding to honor her crave and visit Rosa’s café two blocks away, Marley dropped off her notebook, changed out of her suit into blue jeans, and grabbed her jacket and hat.

  Locking the back door of Uncle Max’s house behind her, Marley crunched through piles of fallen leaves underfoot (that she needed to rake, and soon) toward her usual shortcut through the alley. A flash of movement from the corner of her eye as she walked across the back yard and Marley was surprised to see the big black pony from the middle of the road again.

  This time it was standing a mere ten feet away from her, right under an oak tree. It had not been standing there just a moment ago, and given its large size Marley didn’t know how it had crept up on her soundlessly through the fallen leaves. Not to mention, how had it gotten past the fence that encircled Uncle Max’s yard? One thing she did know, up close she could tell for sure the animal was not a pony. Perhaps some kind of big dog?

  “Nice doggie.” Marley ventured, cautiously. To Marley’s dismay the animal took a step toward her, tossed its glossy head (bigger than a basketball) and bared enormous sharp teeth in what almost looked like a smile.

  “Good doggie.” Marley took a step backward. “Stay,” she added unconvincingly when the beast lowered its head and padded toward her. Marley did her best not to let the big dog sense her fear as she backed rapidly toward the alley behind Uncle Max’s house.

  Aside from encounters at local parks Marley hadn’t met very many actual dogs personally. In fact her exposure to canines in general had been limited to the occasional neighbor’s pet and what she’d gleaned from her reading on the subject, such as Stephen King’s book Cujo. Fumbling frantically behind her Marley finally unhooked the gate and fled into the alley, closing it behind her as quickly as she could.

  When she glanced up a second later, Marley was surprised to find that the animal was no longer behind her. In fact it had completely disappeared, vanishing noiselessly and without a trace. Spooky. With a slight shiver over her close call, Marley headed at a jog down the wide, brightly lit alley between her neighbors’ houses toward the café, keeping an eye out for stray dogs and covering the distance in record time.

  CHAPTER 6

  October 29th – 11:00 p.m.

  Rosa looked from the windows of 3014 Hennepin Avenue to the door as Marley McCormick opened it and breezed into her café. Rosa had been a friend of Marley’s Uncle Max ever since Max Sherman had purchased the bookstore next door to Rosa’s café, which had been aptly named ‘A Piece of Pi’.

  “Evening Rosa, Gaspare.” Marley nodded at them both and slid onto her usual stool near the end of the counter, tucking her long dark hair behind one ear. Her big grey eyes were shadowed with weariness and she looked exhausted. Rosa hadn’t seen Marley since Max Sherman’s memorial service but knew she’d been busy handling the details of his estate.

  “Evening Marlyn.” Rosa was one of the few people who called Marley by her given name. Rosa didn’t have to ask what Marley wanted. She already knew and reached for a packet of special peppermint tea, started the water boiling.

  Rosa was statuesque, a strong and solidly beautiful African American lady of an indeterminate age wearing a striking orange silk turban and matching kaftan in honor of Hallowe’en. Polishing a big brass espresso maker with capable hands while the water heated, Rosa studied Marley’s tired face.

  “How are things?”

  Marley’s sigh summed it up. “Fine, I guess. Busy. I picked up Uncle Max’s keys today.”

  Rosa shook her head sadly. It was a real shame about Max Sherman. She missed him greatly. Sherman’s Rare Bookstore was adjacent to A Piece of Pi and along with their respective businesses Rosa and Max’s friendship had grown over the years. Their shops shared patio umbrellas in the summertime, shoveling duties in the winter.

  Rosa changed the subject. “By the way, someone called Werther’s been phoning here all night looking for you. He says you haven’t been returning his calls.”

  Marley scowled darkly. “That’s because I told him not to call me again.” She’d met Werther Royson at an antique book convention in Chanhassen a month ago while helping her Uncle Max staff his vendor’s booth for the event.

  Werther had been attending the convention in his role as curator for a small, privately-owned museum in Minneapolis featuring a collection of rare, occult items. He’d struck up a conversation with both Marley and Max that day, inviting himself to join them for lunch.

  At first Marley had found it appealing that Werther was an expert on the arcane. His employer headed up the local chapter of an organization called the Occult Historical Society, a chapter Werther himself belonged to. However, Marley’s admiration had turned to distaste after that one afternoon spent listening to Werther’s enthusiastic defense of the strategies employed by Nazi Germany during World War II.

  Realizing that she had absolutely nothing in common with Werther, Marley had been glad to let the non-relationship go. The last time they’d spoken Marley had been honest about her feelings. She had told him as kindly as she could that she didn’t see a future for them together and asked him to stop calling her.

  But Werther had other ideas. In recent days he’d proven to be quite stubborn in his pursuit of Marley, up to and including stalking her every day both in person and through repeated voice mail messages left on her answering machine.

  “Men are so stupid.” Marley muttered exasperatedly. After a moment she sheepishly turned to face the empty stool at the end of the counter and apologized. “I’m sorry, Gaspare. I didn’t mean you of course.” Spread out beside a cup of cooling coffee the entertainment section of the newspaper trembled ever so slightly. The air shifted and stirred.

  The faint outline of a muscular young man with dark, almost black skin faded into view. Although he was mostly transparent it was possible to see that he was wearing brown leather sandals and what appeared to be an embroidered red cotton shirt with baggy brown homespun pants. The man grinned at Marley silently, white teeth gleaming. He was quite good looking. As he faded out of view the coffee cup rattled.

  Gaspare appeared when he was alone with friends, like Rosa and Marley and (in times past) Max Sherman. He didn’t reveal himself to most of the clientele, which was probably a good thing. If the regulars were ever to become aware that they shared their morning coffee with a ghost, business might fall off at A Piece of Pi. Then again maybe not.

  At any rate Gaspare had been with Rosa for many years. When he’d di
ed he’d simply continued to follow Rosa from place to place patiently, devotedly haunting her every move. Occasionally Rosa urged Gaspare to leave her, to go on and become one with the light. To Move On to Better Things. But Gaspare laughed at this suggestion. What better things? Dead or alive he had no intention of ever voluntarily leaving her side.

  Rosa cast a glance of motherly concern over Marley. “You’re out late tonight.”

  Marley took a long, revitalizing sip of her tea. Nodded. “I’ve been working. That motivational speaker guy is in town and I’m interviewing him for the magazine. It’s an exclusive.”

  Rosa squinted Marley an inquiring look. “I thought you said you were going to take some time off?”

  Marley shrugged, avoided making eye contact. “I thought so too but it was just one of those things. My editor Stella asked me to handle the interview personally. Begged me as a matter of fact, so I really couldn’t say no.”

  The door banged open as Marley spoke and a tall, extremely thin young man in a plaid jacket and blue jeans came through the doorway. His pale blue eyes were red, his thick blonde hair matted to his head unattractively. Catching sight of Marley he strode forward, grimly unsmiling. “There you are.”

  “Hello Werther.” Marley didn’t smile either.

  “How come you haven’t been returning my calls?” Werther took a seat beside Marley. His anger was clear from his tone.

  “I’ve been busy handling my Uncle’s estate.” Marley replied truthfully.

  “You could have found a minute to call me back and let me know you’re all right.” Cleverly Werther shifted the blame for his behavior onto Marley. “You know how it makes me worry when I don’t hear from you.”

  Marley shook her head, annoyed at this tactic. “Werther we’ve already talked about this. I asked you to stop calling me, remember?”

  Rosa intruded into the tense moment, poured a fresh cup of tea for Marley and physically inserted herself into the space between the two of them. Rosa didn’t like Werther. His behavior toward Marley struck her as too aggressive. Not to mention he’d been calling A Piece of Pi all evening in the hope that Marley would eventually show up. Irritating.

  “Why don’t you let me give you a hand with that bookstore of your Uncle’s?” he asked Marley, totally ignoring what she’d just said. “You must need someone to look after things for you and help run the place.”

  Marley scowled down at her tea. “No thanks, Werther.” Oddly, he was the second person in as many hours to remind her of Sherman’s Rare Bookstore.

  Werther grabbed Marley’s shoulder and spun her around on her stool until she faced him. “Don’t just blow me off, Marley. We need to talk,” he told her firmly.

  “I don’t think so.” Marley pulled away from him just as the coffee cup at the end of the counter rose from its saucer and sailed through the air toward Werther. Marley watched as the cup upended itself over Werther’s head.

  Momentarily Gaspare faded into view behind Werther’s back frowning and shaking his head in disgust, then he faded out. Head dripping, coffee everywhere, Werther whirled to confront his attacker but no one was there.

  Rosa pointed theatrically at the ceiling as Gaspare’s empty coffee cup settled gently back down into its saucer. “Oh, that darned leak again,” she said loudly. “Wouldn’t you know, every time it rains.” She offered Werther a handful of paper towels from under the counter. “Better go clean yourself up.”

  If Werther wondered how a ceiling could leak coffee when it wasn’t even raining outside he didn’t say so. Muttering angrily he took himself off to the rest room, presumably to wash up.

  “Thanks Gaspare.” Marley smiled at his empty chair.

  Hands on hips Rosa admonished him, “Are you going to clean that up?” A mop standing in the corner obediently rose and scooted around in the small puddle under Werther’s chair. The faint sound of Gaspare whistling cheerfully under his breath, and Rosa couldn’t hide her grin.

  Marley stood, pushed her stool back under the counter, tucked the tea spoon onto her saucer and headed for the door. “G’night Rosa, Gaspare. See you later.” She left before Werther returned.

  CHAPTER 7

  October 29th – 11:30 p.m.

  A night fog haloed streetlights overhead. Crisp autumn leaves danced in a gentle curbside breeze, partnering the wind. As Marley’s feet crunched though these reminders of approaching winter another set of footsteps crunched along behind her. Footsteps that matched Marley’s progress step for step. Marley paused, looking back. Wondering, could Werther actually be following her home? She picked up the pace a bit. The footsteps behind her likewise sped up.

  Marley stopped. The footsteps stopped.

  Uncle Max’s house was two blocks away from A Piece of Pi. Not far to go. Marley fumbled around in her purse until she found the small can of chemical repellent touted as a criminal deterrent. She’d never had to actually use mace on anyone and wondered if the expiration date might apply, since the canister was over two years old.

  On impulse Marley turned the corner quickly into the small parking area behind the bookstore and waited, crouched behind a dumpster. The hurrying footsteps behind her accelerated and rushed past, a small shape swirled through the fog in her wake.

  A little girl ran past Marley’s hiding place. Marley had an impression of big eyes in an elfin face and long, dark hair that hung down past the girl’s waist. The little girl slowed down and stopped when she realized she was alone in the mist. She looked around, peering this way then that. Listening. There was something kind of desperate about the child. She seemed lost.

  Marley stepped from behind the dumpster and called out, “Are you all right?”

  The child jumped with surprise and whirled to face Marley. She said nothing at all but there was an odd expression of relief on her small face. She appeared to be about eight years old, maybe nine. Golden brown skin, long dark hair and huge hazel eyes that fixed Marley with a look of piercing intelligence.

  The girl wore a knee-length long-sleeved robe of some kind, made of soft red material belted at the waist. Her feet were shod in thin leather sandals. The deep chill of the autumn night was written in Braille on her bare legs, and she was completely empty-handed.

  “Were you following me?” Marley dropped the mace back into her bag, feeling silly. The child still hadn’t said a single word.

  Marley asked, “Are you lost?” The little girl shook her head. “Did you run away from home?” The girl seemed to consider then shrugged in a maybe kind of way, avoiding Marley’s eyes. “Do you need help?” The child remained silent. “Should I call your parents or the police for you?” The child frowned. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?” These words took Marley by surprise even as she uttered them.

  To Marley’s mingled relief and chagrin the little girl nodded when she heard these words. She looked grateful, darn it, and Marley hadn’t been planning on rescuing any strays.

  Then again the little girl had a kind of vulnerable appeal. She looked far too delicate to face a night alone on the streets of Uptown. Besides the wind had picked up, and the temperature was supposed to drop later that night. Not to mention, there were big, scary off-leash dogs running around.

  “Why don’t you come with me for now and we can talk about it once we get someplace warmer, okay? I have a house right down the street.” Marley was already slightly regretting her own generosity. What did she know from children? Nothing. Then again how hard could it be for one night.

  Because in the morning she’d hand the child off to her best friend Alison. Alison had more than enough in the way of resources and experience to take over from Marley when it came to runaway children. Despite being a paraplegic, Alison ran a shelter for homeles
s kids called The Kid Factory. Alison would know what to do with a runaway child.

  Uncle Max’s house was a two-story, brick-and-fieldstone structure tucked into the back corner of a large lot on 31st and Hennepin Avenue. Returning here still felt odd to Marley now that he was gone, especially since she did so in the company of a complete stranger. As she walked them through the front gates and toward the house Marley introduced herself. “My name’s Marley. What’s your name?”

  The little girl finally spoke in a clear, lilting voice. “My name is Galea.” She pronounced it ‘Gah LAY ah’ with just the slightest trace of an accent, the origins of which Marley couldn’t easily pinpoint.

  “That’s a really pretty name,” Marley observed, unlocking the front door and showing Galea inside. It was also a foreign-sounding name which might explain the child’s peculiar clothing and why her parents seemed to have dressed her for a much warmer climate.

  Uncle Max’s house featured a floor plan consisting of a kitchen, bathroom and sunroom in the rear of the house, living room and library area facing west, and a big, open dining room that looked east toward Uptown.

  There were two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor, and a large four-cornered attic space on the top third floor. The house had been built in the 1800s and although it had been recently remodeled, attention had been given to preserving the antique details found everywhere in the home, such as the dumbwaiter in the dining room and leaded glass windows in the library.

  In the foyer, golden pine wood floors shone polished under colorful hand-braided rugs. From her vantage point, Marley could see into the library where walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves supported a fine collection of leather bound volumes and more modern hard cover books.

  Marley noticed that someone (probably Uncle Max) had added their own battered collection of Louis L’Amour paperback books to one end of a shelf near matching upholstered plush chairs standing side-by-side in front of a massive stone fireplace.