Lured by Darkness (Preview)

Chapter 1

The late August air was pleasantly cool in the shade. Deep in the Oregon woods, where the trees seemed to conceal an entire world from the sunlight, Nora Watters stepped off the bus and stretched her legs as she waited for the driver to open the baggage compartment.

Well, she wasn’t precisely in the deep woods right now. The bus had come to a stop against the sidewalk in a sleepy little town, one of those places that looked to be just a single street. A few quaint little shops, well-maintained but not stylish, populated the main drag, with houses and a further sprawl suggested only by the presence of side streets that snaked away from the road like the legs of some insect.

The driver hefted her bags out of the compartment and placed them with due care on the pavement.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, miss. Enjoy your stay.” He barely looked at her as he said the words, and in an instant, he was back in the driver’s seat and the bus was pulling away.

Nora swung her backpack over one shoulder and rested a hand on her suitcase, taking in the scenery. She’d never been a small-town girl, but she had to admit that the town of Wells had its charm. The honk of a car horn caught her attention, and she turned in time to spot her sister’s car coming around a corner. Ellen was in the driver’s seat, all smiles as she pulled the car up right next to the curb. Nora waved cheerfully.

“Hey sis! Long time no see!”

Ellen parked the car and stepped out of the front seat to embrace her sister. A strand of her auburn hair, which was otherwise pinned up neatly in a tight bun, tickled Nora’s nose as they hugged.

Ellen was three inches taller than Nora, slender, and with a face that could be stern, but that had an undeniable, quiet beauty when the woman smiled. Nora, by comparison, had rounder cheeks and a gently upturned nose — no one had ever mistaken her for the older sister. In fact, she’d frequently been the target of scepticism over whether she was actually related to Ellen.

Which was fair, given that she wasn’t. Not really. Nora had never known her biological parents — she’d been adopted as a newborn infant by Ellen’s mother. Of course, Mrs Watters had done everything in her power to make sure that Nora was treated the same as Ellen, and it had worked. Nora had never felt inclined to ask about her biological family, nor had Mrs Watters ever been inclined to tell stories.

Falling back onto her heels, Nora looked up at Ellen.

“Here, let me help you with that,” said the elder of the two, cheerfully grabbing Nora’s suitcase.

Once the bags were stowed in the trunk of the car, Nora fastened her seatbelt, and they sped off.

“How’s Ian?” she asked, staring out at buildings and trees as they flew past the window.

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s in the shop with his dad today, but they’ll be around for dinner.”

Ian Herschel, Ellen’s husband, was one of the namesake employees of Herschel and Sons mechanics. The only auto shop for miles around, they tended to do good business, especially when the weather got rough. As Nora marvelled at the way the early afternoon sun filtered through the tree branches and painted a golden, dappled pattern on the pavement of the road, she asked, “Is it busy right now?”

“Not particularly. But they’ve got a customer from the next town over who heard that they do good work. He’s commissioned them to do a full restore of an old sports car. And I mean ancient. The thing was a rust bucket when they brought it in. I’m surprised Mr Herschel even agreed to the job, but I guess they’ve been slow enough lately …”

“Interesting. I bet Ian’s having fun with that.”

As the son of the owner, Ian had known since early childhood that he’d probably end up working for the family business. Far from rebelling, he’d developed an interest in cars from an early age and could talk for hours about any make or model if someone got him started. On more than one occasion, Ellen had urged Nora to avoid doing just that, though Nora knew that deep down, Ellen enjoyed hearing her husband gush about his job.

“Oh, you know he is. I’m sure he’ll have tales to tell when he gets home this evening.” They turned onto a side street, and the tires of the car began to rumble against an older, rougher strip of pavement. “And how about you, Nora? How’s the museum?”

“Oh, it’s great. I’ve been working on some pottery that we brought in from a Viking settlement from the 8th century. The workmanship is really incredible.”

“Very cool,” said Ellen. “You know, I’ve heard rumours that the city government is trying to open a museum not too far from here. Maybe someday you’ll be able to get a job in the neighbourhood.”

Nora smiled. “Maybe.” She knew her sister had always hoped that they would live close together. While there were no children on the horizon yet, Ellen had always wanted to be a mother, and Nora knew that she wanted her kids to be close to their aunt. While Nora had never thought about having children herself, she certainly liked the idea of a niece or nephew. But she had no plans to move out here to the woods. She liked her city apartment. Nora and Ian’s home, while lovely, had always seemed too quiet; too isolated.

They rounded another corner, and the house loomed into view. It was set back a little way from the road, so that only the roof and the chimney rising were truly visible, rising above the line of trees that split to make space for the driveway.

The house itself was modest but well-kept. Ellen had taken to gardening in recent years, and there were a few plots of lush flowers near the front porch, and more in the backyard that contained all manner of vegetables. She’d even managed to keep a pear tree alive for two years now, something that would never cease to impress Nora, who could barely take care of a cactus.

The cat, Smokey, greeted them warmly as they came in through the front door, his claws skittering across the polished hardwood.

“Hey baby,” said Nora, picking him up and stroking him behind the ears. “Missed you.”

Smokey gave a defiant meow in response, then jumped down from her arms.

“You’re in the guest bedroom,” said Ellen. “Let me bring your suitcase up.”

Nora followed her sister up the stairs and into the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. It was a spacious room, with a slight slant in the ceiling that accounted for an attic above the master bedroom, in the roof’s peak. A double mattress and box spring in a plain wood frame took up most of the centre of the room. Ellen placed Nora’s suitcase next to the desk, which was made of the same wood as the bed frame and held a couple of old books and a lamp.

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s not for a few hours, but I can fix us some snacks …”

“That sounds great, thanks,” said Nora. “I just want to unpack a couple of things, then I’ll be right down to help you in the kitchen.”

Ellen nodded. She stopped at the doorway and turned back to Nora. “It’s really nice to see you, Nora.”

“You too, Ellen.”

As her sister disappeared down the stairs, Nora turned her attention to her suitcase, throwing it open and kneeling on the plush rug that covered the hardwood floor. She tossed her pyjamas and toothbrush onto the bed, then dug deeper into the case’s contents. Buried under two weeks worth of socks was her quarry — a thin file folder made from aluminium, lightweight but firm enough to protect its delicate contents. She fished it out of the suitcase and opened it on her lap.

Inside were two letter-sized photocopies, the ink mottled and darkened where the scanner had picked up the imperfections of the original paper. Nora pulled out one of them and examined it in the sunlight that trickled into the room through the open window.

Three days before she’d left her home in Washington, an anonymous donor had dropped off a plastic cylinder full of maps at the museum. While many of the specimens were comparatively recent, a set of two had struck Nora immediately as completely foreign. She stared at the lines on the copy.

The original map had been of an odd material, slightly oily and extremely flexible despite its age, almost like skin rather than paper. The markings on it were, at a glance, rudimentary – a series of lines that seemed to mark rivers, with faded triangular markings likely denoting mountains and trees.

What really interested Nora were the symbols. Next to each landmark, and running along the bottom of the page, were a set of bizarre runes that she hadn’t yet been able to identify. She’d spent the better part of her last work day searching through the museum’s database of ancient languages and glyphs, to no avail. Even now, she was perplexed. She sighed and stowed the paper back in the folder.

She’d promised herself that this vacation would be a break from work, but this new discovery was proving too fascinating to ignore.

“Nora? Do you need help up there?” Ellen’s voice carried up the stairs.

Burying the folder under her clothes again, Nora shut her suitcase and headed downstairs.

*****

Ian arrived home just after six o’clock that evening. Nora was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, watching Ellen flit between the stove, the fridge, and the cutting board. Her older sister had rebuffed her offers to help, and Nora was now content to watch amusedly as Ellen tried to prove that she could do everything herself.

“Hey Nora!” Ian called from the doorway as he kicked off his shoes.

“Ian!” Nora jumped up and ran to hug her brother-in-law.

“Watch it — I’m covered in grease,” he said, smiling.

“It’ll wash off.”

“Welcome back.”

Ian and Ellen had been married for 11 years. By now, Nora genuinely thought of Ian as part of her family. He’d always struck her as a kind man, not particularly talkative, but one who was genuinely and warmly affectionate.

Setting his shoes neatly on the rack, he went into the kitchen and planted a kiss on Ellen’s cheek, being careful not to touch anything with his grease-covered hands.

“Welcome home, darling. Dinner will be ready in 20 minutes. You going to take a shower?”

“Yep.” Ian grinned at Nora and headed upstairs. A moment later, the sound of running water travelled down the pipes from the shower in the master bathroom.

“He’s in a good mood,” Nora teased.

“You’ll get to hear all about that car,” said Ellen.

And she was right — not that Nora had a problem with it. Her sister’s cooking seemed to get better every time she came to visit, and she was content to listen to Ian’s explanation of how they’d removed the car’s engine and taken it apart while she stuffed her face.

Eventually, he finished talking and turned his attention to the food that was cooling on his plate.

Ellen took a sip of water and said, “Nora tells me she’s been restoring some ancient Viking pottery. What sort of pottery is it, Nora? Is it ceremonial, or …?”

“Oh, um, no. Actually, we think it was for everyday use. My guess is it was owned by someone who would be considered wealthy within their social group, maybe the leader of a village or something like that. It was probably made especially for someone in a position of power.”

“Interesting,” said Ian. “I wish someone would bring us fancy dishes.”

“We’re hardly the leaders of the village,” said Ellen.

“What? Herschel and Sons is the leading mechanic’s shop in the village.”

“It’s the only mechanic’s shop in the village, sweetheart.”

Nora laughed.

“Anything else? Not that Vikings aren’t cool, but … Found any priceless ancient treasures? Maybe some cursed jewellery?” Ian leaned in, taking a hearty bite of one of Ellen’s homemade biscuits.

“Um … well … actually there is one other pretty interesting find that we’re working on.” Nora paused, wondering if the maps were even worth mentioning. It was so early in the investigation; she still couldn’t be sure whether they were real or if they were a hoax. There was a good chance that the anonymous donor was, in fact, an artistic teenager, with too much time on their hands.

But Ellen and Ian looked interested, so she forged ahead. “There’s this map … actually, it’s a set of two different maps. Someone dropped them off at the museum building the other day, with a bunch of other old maps.”

“How come only those two are interesting?”

Nora shrugged. “They’re different. The other ones are mostly early 20th century — kind of interesting, but the sort of thing that you could still find at an antique shop pretty easily, and not pay that much for. These ones are… well, they seem a lot older, for one thing. And for another, they’re very… weird.”

“Weird, how?”

Nora looked at Ellen and Ian, then sighed. “I can show you. I brought copies.” Not waiting for an answer, she left the dining room table and rushed upstairs to fetch the folder from her suitcase. When she returned, Ellen had cleared enough of the dishes away to leave an open space in the centre of the table.

Standing over the table, Nora spread the file folder open and smoothed out its contents.

Ellen and Ian twisted their necks this way and that. Nora watched as her sister squinted, trying to get a better look at the map’s contents.

“Oh, I need my glasses,” she said finally and disappeared for a moment before returning with a pair of round wire frame spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She knelt atop her chair, propping herself up with elbows on the table, and leaned forward for another look.

“Weird,” Ian was saying. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure, it’s just a photocopy.”

Nora watched as her brother-in-law traced one of the lines of the map with his fingers. “What’s this thing?” he asked. His finger had come to a stop over the top of one of the strange triangular markings.

This one was large, and on the original had a slight red tint to it, though on the photocopy it looked plain black and grey like every other marking. Nora leaned forward to look.

“I have no idea,” she said. A mischievous smile grew on her face. “Maybe that’s where the treasure is buried.”

Ian laughed. “Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let’s go dig it up!” At that, he rose from his seat and began collecting the remaining dishes, carrying them back into the kitchen.

“There’s strawberry shortcake for dessert in the fridge,” Ellen called after him. “And would you mind putting the kettle on for coffee?”

“Sure thing, babe,” Ian said from the kitchen.

Ellen smiled and looked at Nora. “I’m assuming you want coffee.”

“You know me well,” said Nora with a grin. She’d been a coffee fiend ever since childhood, when their father would let her sneak sips from his mug at breakfast, before school. Nora thought that if it wasn’t for coffee, she’d never have made it through high school and university. Ellen had never developed quite the same level of devotion to the beverage, but she was known to enjoy a cup with breakfast and sweets.

Ellen’s attention had returned to the map — the elder sister had picked up one of the photocopies and was holding it above her so that the light from the ceiling lamp shone through the thin printer paper as if perhaps more details might reveal themselves trapped between layers of the paper. She squinted.

“You know,” she said, turning the paper slightly and pausing to adjust her glasses, “this is going to sound really strange but, some of these markings almost look… familiar.”

Nora frowned. “Familiar? How? You think you recognise the symbols?”

“Not the symbols, no. But the rivers … these lines …” Ellen lowered the paper and placed it back on top of the file folder. She shrugged as if suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’ve seen them before.”

“Hm.” Nora stood up and walked over to where Ellen was sitting, leaning over her sister’s shoulder to try to see from the other woman’s point of view. She studied the map hoping that the new angle might reveal something new, something she hadn’t previously noticed — but nothing came to the surface.

A moment later, Ian returned with a fresh pot of coffee and three mugs.

“Be right back with the cake.” He paused. “You two solving a mystery?”

“Ellen thinks she knows where the map leads,” said Nora.

“Is that so!” Ian nodded and smiled. When he returned with the cake and a set of plates and cutlery, Ellen had shut the file folder and pushed it to the edge of the table, turning her attention to the coffee.

“Done already?” asked Ian.

Ellen made a face at him. “For now. I want cake. Anyway, Nora is here to relax; I don’t want to encourage her.” She looked at her sister and gave her a smile that was fond, if a little sarcastic.

Damn, thought Nora. I guess that’s the end of that. She returned her sister’s smile, not wanting to press the issue.

“I want cake also!”

“Well, you’re in luck,” said Ian, cutting into the pastry with a large kitchen knife.

*****

After dessert was finished and the dishes cleared away and arranged in the dishwasher, Ellen poured Nora another cup of coffee, and the three of them sat in the living room, talking. Though she was a little disappointed at the outcome of her show-and-tell, Nora felt warm and happy. Every time she came to visit her sister she wondered why she didn’t do it more often.

“What ever happened to that guy you were seeing, Nora?”

Ah. That was why.

Nora felt herself going red. “Hm?” she said, trying to play innocent while she formulated an answer. True, she had briefly dated a man whom she’d met at a museum conference the previous year, but they’d both been too busy to make things work, so Nora had broken things off in the end.

“Oh, he … we broke up.”

“He just wasn’t the one for you?”

“No … I don’t know. He was nice but … I guess I’m just not looking for a commitment right now.”

Ellen glanced at her husband who was drifting to sleep on the sofa next to Nora. “That’s what I said right before I met Ian,” she said with a wink.

At the mention of his name, Ian stirred and blinked. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked.

“You did.”

He yawned and sat up, stretching. “I guess I ought to turn in, then. Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?”

“Yep — which means you’re making breakfast.”

“Sure thing. I hope you still like pancakes, Nora.”

“Why would I ever stop liking pancakes?”

Ian chuckled. “Alright. Good night, Nora.”

“I’ll be up in a bit, darling,” said Ellen.

When the sound of Ian’s footsteps made it to the top landing of the staircase, Ellen leaned forward and said, “I know I’m going to regret asking, but … do you mind if I take another look at your map?”

Nora grinned and jumped up excitedly. “Can’t get it off your mind, can you?”

“Don’t start. I’m just … curious. I really can’t shake the feeling that I know the landscape. I mean, if it is a landscape.”

Nora knelt on the floor and spread the copies over the hardwood. Lamplight pooled on the white paper, making the black copier ink shine. Ellen leaned so far forward in her chair that Nora thought she might tip forward.

“Hmm.” Ellen stared at the page, then pointed with a finger. “You said these lines were rivers?”

“That’s my best guess. I’m really not sure.”

“This line looks thicker than the others.” She drew her finger along a strip of ink that ran in an undulating pattern across the bottom half of the paper.

“These two … the point where they cross … there’s a couple of hiking trails by the river, over on the north side of town. If I didn’t know better …” she fell silent again, apparently lost in thought.

Nora slid forward on her knees to look at the copy. She’d been to the banks of the river a couple of times — it was known by locals as a pleasant spot for picnics, though the water tended to be too cold, the current too strong for swimming.

“Do you take walks along there often?” she asked her sister.

“Hm? Oh … sometimes, yeah. In the spring, before it gets too hot. They’re usually pretty quiet. The main one that runs along the river is called the Bushnell Trail.”

“Bushnell?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember what the second one was called … um … I think it starts with a ‘T,’ maybe. There’s a signpost where they intersect, though.”

“What about this thing?” Nora pointed to the dark triangle that Ian had been interested in earlier. “Do you know of any landmarks that close to the trails?”

Ellen frowned. “Not really, no. I mean … there’s the whole town, but it doesn’t really look like buildings are represented on the map. I mean, realistically, there’s no way this map shows a present-day area, right?”

“Realistically, no.” Nora leaned back against the sofa. Her eyes settled on the odd runes that marked the map.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to do with this town, anyway. I have no idea why someone would send your museum an ancient map of Oregon.” She laughed, but Nora could tell that she wasn’t entirely convinced by her own words. “Still, it’s fun to imagine.”

“Now you understand.”

“I suppose I do.”

“I have to admit,” said Nora, collecting the copies and filing them away again, “your comparisons are pretty compelling.”

Ellen smiled. “Compelling or not, I’m getting sleepy.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Even after all that coffee?”

Nora shrugged. “I’ve built up an immunity!” She tucked the folder under her arm. “Do you need me to tidy anything up down here?”

“Oh, no. No, don’t worry about anything.” Ellen stood and began making her way to the stairs. “Well,” she said, “I guess I can ask you to turn out the lights.”

“Of course.”

“Goodnight, Nora.”

“Goodnight.”

Nora lingered downstairs for another moment or two, thinking about what her sister had observed. Surely, Ellen’s interpretation of the map was nothing more than idle speculation. An unknown stranger delivering a map to Nora’s museum that just happened to show an area where Nora’s sister lived?

That seemed like too much of a coincidence. It couldn’t be true.

Could it?

But the idea of it being the truth had wedged itself into Nora’s mind, and it wouldn’t come out easily. As Nora shut off the downstairs lights and readied herself for bed, she became more and more certain that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she checked things out herself.

Chapter 2

The following morning, Nora was up unusually early.

In the city, she tended to be a late-to-bed, late-to-rise type of person. She frequently found herself up into the wee hours of the morning, poring over a book or several episodes deep into a particularly suspenseful TV series. But the fresh air of the woods seemed to make sleep come easier once it was dark out. She’d slept like a rock, and awakened slowly, only after the sun had been shining on her face for a time.

She checked her clock. Seven a.m. Early enough to get started on the day, she decided, as she rolled out of bed. The window had been left open during the night, and the room was cool. Nora shivered as her bare feet touched down on the thin rug, and she knelt to grab a pair of socks and a sweater from her suitcase.

As she was doing so, her eyes settled yet again on the folder containing the maps. Last night’s curiosity was far from extinguished — in fact, now that she was thinking of it again, Nora was almost certain that she’d dreamt of discovering the secret of the maps for at least part of the night. She reached for the folder, letting it fall open over her clothes.

She checked the time again.

Ian would be sleeping in late – he was probably sleep deprived from a week’s worth of early mornings at the shop. And Nora knew that her sister would probably relish the chance to stay in bed with her husband after a week of being roused at an equally early hour by Ian’s clattering around in the kitchen and the garage. It was likely to be a good hour or two before either of them emerged from the master bedroom.

Nora stood up, folding one of the photocopies under her arm. Her mind was made up.

Just an early-morning walk, she told herself as she crept down the stairs as silently as she could manage. Smokey gave a hungry meow as she passed the kitchen, and Nora put a finger to her lips.

“Ellen will be up to feed you, soon,” she whispered.

She slipped on her jacket and went out the door, pulling it silently closed behind her. It was a blessing of small town living that Ellen and Ian rarely locked their front door, so Nora didn’t need a key.

The ground was wet with dew that soaked into Nora’s canvas sneakers as she cut across the grass to the driveway. In the trees, leaves, fine branches, and spider webs were dotted with shining droplets of liquid, and the landscape seemed to shimmer as she walked past.

As she made her way to the foot of the driveway, she unfurled the map and checked it again. Getting her bearings, she flipped the map upside down and then right side up again – it occurred to Nora that she’d do well to create some sort of landmark for the Herschel’s house. She patted down her pockets, but they were empty. She’d left her pen in her purse. Looking around for an alternative, she spotted a small bush laden with small, red berries. Inedible, to be sure, but …

She picked one and mashed it into the paper on the spot where the house should be. It did the job, creating a ragged red splotch on the copy.

Perfect.

Nora folded the map and shoved it back into her pocket.

It was another 20 minutes before the sign for the Bushnell Trail appeared, looming out of a patch of mist that had fallen along the side of the road. Traffic was exceedingly quiet — Nora hadn’t seen a single car in the whole time she’d been out walking. It was quiet enough that she could hear the distant roar of the river. She turned onto the gravel path, taking a moment to check the map and orient herself.

If the map was scaled correctly, the mysterious landmark couldn’t be more than 15 minutes away.

If the map even shows this area, she reminded herself. Finding the point where Bushnell intersected with the other trail would be the real test.

Nora walked along, enjoying the silence, which was broken only by the occasional distant bird call, and the crunch of her sneakers on the gravel. A few brown leaves had fallen from their branches and combined with the slight chill that lingered with the mist in the air, the whole scene gave an impression of encroaching autumn.

Once, Nora passed another lone hiker, a small white-haired woman dressed in heavy boots and a blue windbreaker. She smiled, and they exchanged good mornings.

“New in town?” asked the woman.

“Just visiting.”

The woman nodded. “Enjoy the trail.”

“Thanks.”

A moment later, just as the woman’s footsteps faded out of earshot, Nora spotted another signpost. The path widened to reveal an intersection. She stopped at the signpost and read it quietly to herself.

“Tern Trail.” Nora unfolded the map yet again and examined her surroundings, measuring the distance from the red berry splotch to the crossed lines with two fingers.

It felt odd, but the map seemed to correspond to reality. Which just left the strange triangular landmark. On the map, it sat just above the point where the paths intersected, maybe 200 feet or so out into the woods.

Nora checked her watch. She’d been out for 45 minutes now — but with any luck, Ellen and Ian should still be in bed.

I should have left a note, she thought. She couldn’t bear the idea of causing her sister undue stress. But she also knew that Ellen was nothing if not sensible, and that the woman rarely jumped to conclusions. Assuming Nora had simply gone for a walk was the simplest explanation.

I hope.

Nora checked over her shoulder to make sure no errant park rangers would write her up for leaving the trail, then pushed past a tangle of narrow branches into the woods.

Though it seemed obvious, she was still surprised by how much quieter things became just a few feet away from the beaten path. With the river on the opposite side of the trail, the trees provided enough insulation to almost totally cancel it out. She walked forward in a straight line, or at least, as straight as she could manage while weaving through the dense foliage.

Once, a dry branch snapped under her foot and she jumped, terrified that a bear — or something worse — was stalking her.

You’ve been watching too many scary movies, Nora, she chided herself, and pushed forward.

Quite suddenly, something unnatural loomed in her vision.

A house.

Nora stared ahead, transfixed by the sight of the building. It was small, and run-down. What had once been painted wood slats were now brown and rotting, mossy in places and sprouting fungal growths in others. Nora pushed through the last line of trees and looked back — she could no longer see the path.

She walked around the perimeter of the house. A sunken pile of broken, mushy boards on end must have once been a porch. Above, set back into the siding was a narrow door with a jagged hole where a window used to be, now blackened with dirt and webs.

A growing feeling of unease came over Nora as she stared into that dilapidated window. It was as if she were being pulled towards it — as if she hadn’t found this house of her own accord but had instead been pulled towards it by some mysterious force. She crossed her arms, feeling suddenly chilled, though the sun had risen higher in the sky, and the mist was beginning to dissipate.

She stepped closer to the house. Gingerly, testing her footing with each step, she climbed the remains of the porch steps up to the door.

It was then that she noticed the symbols.

Etched into the wood, half filled in with dirt and moss, several scratched forms revealed themselves as Nora looked closer. She leaned in as close as she could, her nose nearly making contact with the rusted doorknob as she squinted.

Could it be?

A chill ran through Nora as she scrambled to pull the map out of her pocket and unfold it once again. She flattened it against the door. Dew and moisture from the rotting wood soaked into the paper, staining it — but she barely noticed.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the page and the door. The symbols were the same. A series of four glyphs, in the same order as they appeared on the map, were scratched into the surface of the wood. With her free hand, Nora traced the outlines of the symbols on the door.

As she did so, she felt a strange warmth spreading from the tip of her finger, into her hand and up her arm. She jumped back as if she’d been burned, but her hand appeared uninjured. At the same time, a flash of light caught her eye.

Far from their tarnished appearance just seconds ago, the symbols now appeared to glow. The effect was so quick that Nora wondered if perhaps she’d imagined everything. Then she heard a loud thunk from behind the door and recoiled, freezing.

Nora listened for a beat or two, waiting to hear if some forest predator was about to come lunging through that door and at her throat. But there was nothing.

She tried the door.

The knob twisted easily, and the door swung open, pushing aside a layer of dirt, twigs, and old leaves that had fallen in through a hole in the roof.

Worm-eaten floorboards creaked threateningly underfoot as she made her way into the house. If it appeared small from outside, it was even smaller on the inside — the hallway was blocked by a mass of debris and branches where a tree had apparently fallen and taken part of the house with it. What furniture was left — a small table and a sofa — was now a habitat for several thriving species of fungus and moss.

Nora looked around, her eyes catching a glint of light as they adjusted to the dimness. In the corner of the room was a large chest, once black but now green with algae. She stepped forward and placed a hand on it. That same hum of warmth travelled up her arm once again, only this time Nora wasn’t afraid. The sense that she’d been led here on purpose only grew stronger.

She wrapped her fingers around the lid of the chest and pulled, to no avail. Again, and the chest lifted off the floor a little, but didn’t open. Nora took a deep breath and steadied herself. From somewhere, she felt a kind of will guiding that odd warmth back into her fingers. She felt it in both hands, now, crossing her chest, filling her belly.

Another pull, and the lid of the chest came off, clean. Nora placed it gently on the floor and looked inside.

At first, she thought that it was empty, that her efforts had been wasted. But as she gazed into the murky depths of the vessel, a shape caught her attention.

Pushed into the corner of the chest was a large piece of jewellery. Nora lifted it up in her fingers — a large, blood red stone, encased in an ornate gold setting and hanging from a gold chain. She brought it up to eye level and gazed into it.

The strange adornment was clean, bright, and polished, in stark contrast to its surroundings, which looked even dimmer and more run-down than they had a moment ago.

Nora saw her own face reflected in that jewel — was it a ruby? A face that appeared, for the first time, not cute, or youthful, but beautiful.

She stared for a long time, forgetting herself, until the sound of a bird taking off from the roof roused her from her meditations.

Quickly, she pocketed the amulet and made her way out of the house, back the way she’d come. She couldn’t explain it, but something told her that she’d accomplished her mission; that there was nothing left to see here.

The path seemed to emerge much faster than it had receded from view, and Nora felt relieved to be back on the trail. She pressed her fingers against the amulet in her pocket, wondering for a second if perhaps this had all been a dream, if she was still asleep in Ellen’s guest bedroom, about to be woken by the smell of pancakes and bacon.

As she passed the signpost and took her first steps onto the Bushnell Trail, her phone rang, piercing through the subtle sounds of the forest.

It was Ellen.

“Hello?”

“There you are! Where are you, Nora? I got worried when I realised you weren’t in your room.”

“Um. I went for a walk.”

“A walk? Really? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well … you’re always saying I should get more fresh air. I was up early, and it looked nice out.” Nora’s tone turned sheepish. “I should have left a note. I’m sorry.”

She heard Ellen’s sigh crackle over the phone line. “It’s alright. But yes. Next time, a note would be appreciated.”

“Deal.”

“Hey … if you’re near town — do you mind stopping by the corner store and picking up a dozen eggs? We’re almost out, here.”

“Eggs? Sure.”

“Thanks, Nora. Pancakes should be ready before you get back. We’ll keep some warm for you.”

“Thanks, sis.”

*****

The walk into town felt longer than the walk from Ellen’s house into the woods. By the time Nora reached the store, she felt drained of energy.

That’s what I get for going on a hike before breakfast, she reminded herself. At the store, she made a beeline for the dairy aisle and selected a carton of eggs without looking at them. Then she walked up to the counter, eyeing the coffee pot next to the till.

She stopped at the end of the queue, leaning from one foot to the other.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Nora whirled around. Behind her, a tall man with shoulder-length black hair was holding out a crumpled piece of paper

“Is this yours?”

“Um.” Nora reached into her pocket and felt the weight of the amulet — but no map. “Yeah, I guess it is. Thanks.”

The man smiled and handed her the piece of paper. “It was on the floor. Must have fallen out of your pocket.” He had a nice smile, Nora thought. Sincere. And his green eyes were rather striking.

“Yeah,” she said. “Must have.”

“You can move ahead,” he said, still smiling.

Nora looked behind her and realised that the queue had moved forward. She took a broad step backward, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

When she reached the counter, she bought a coffee in the largest size it came in, then added a too-heavy splash of cream and made her way to the door. As she stepped outside, she felt someone coming up behind her and held it open.

“Thanks.” It was the same man who’d been behind her in line. He was holding a newspaper now, rolled up in one hand as though it were a blunt weapon.

“No problem.”

“My name’s Luther,” he said, holding out his free hand. He was wearing black gloves, Nora noticed – not necessarily unusual, though normally the residents of Wells didn’t break out the winter gear until at least mid-autumn. “Nice to meet you …?”

“Uh. Nora.” She took his hand and gave it a brief, weak shake.

“Nora.” He smiled again.

She eyed him suspiciously. This man didn’t seem to fit in with the usual folk of Wells — his outfit, for one, seemed distinctly out of place. Dressed all in black with polished black boots, his look was that of a high-powered businessman. Unheard of in Wells, let alone on a Saturday before 9 a.m.

“You … uh, live in town?” she asked. The question felt terribly stupid as it left her lips, but she still felt it valid. She took a sip of her coffee and crossed her arms.

A few locks of slick black hair fell in front of his eyes, and he pushed them back before answering. “No. Well … I do for the time being. But I just arrived a couple of days ago. What gave it away?”

Nora smiled, then. “Honestly? Your outfit. People around here … the looks range from plaid flannel to high-tech hiking gear. You look like you’re ready to make a deal with the Devil.”

The man laughed, a sound that was both oddly menacing, and which filled Nora with a strange sense of familiarity, as though she had known this man, or would know him.

“Well, maybe I am,” he said.

They stood in slightly awkward silence, each appraising the other, until a car pulling into the parking lot broke the spell for Nora.

“I better get going,” she said. “Nice meeting you, Luther.”

“And you as well, Nora.”

*****

“Luther?” said Ellen, putting down her fork and wiping the corner of her mouth with a paper towel. “That’s such an old-fashioned name.”

She was working her way steadily through a stack of pancakes, dripping with butter and syrup. Nora was impressed — she had four and was ready to quit, but Ian kept returning from the kitchen with a plate freshly piled high.

“I guess so,” said Nora. “Maybe he’s religious.” When she’d informed Ellen of her new acquaintance, her sister had seemed surprised. Wells wasn’t quite small enough that everyone knew everyone else, but it wasn’t big enough that an oddball like Luther would go completely unnoticed. Walking home, Nora had been consumed with curiosity about the newcomer.

“Is it a Christian name? I guess it is.” Ellen stared into her plate, making patterns in her leftover syrup with the tines of her fork. “It’s kind of a nice name, though. It sounds… strong. Masculine.”

Nora nodded. “Sure.”

Ian returned with the last of the pancakes and sat down, stabbing through the pile with a fork and depositing them on his own plate. “I forgot to ask, Nora, how was your walk this morning?”

“Oh … it was … it was good,” said Nora.

When she’d arrived back with the eggs, she’d trundled upstairs in her jacket and buried the amulet in the depths of her suitcase, feeling an odd sense that she shouldn’t share it with anyone.

She cleared her throat and took a sip of orange juice. “The Bushnell Trail is really beautiful at this time of year.”

“Isn’t it? We should try to go for walks more often.”

“Did you check it against the map?” asked Ellen. She wasn’t going to be deterred.

“Uh, yeah I did …” said Nora. She knew she couldn’t lie directly to her sister. But that didn’t mean she had to explain every detail. “It almost matches if we assume the bigger line is the river.”

“Wild. So, did you find anything? At the point where they cross? What about that weird mark?”

“I … the weird mark seems to be off the trail, in the woods somewhere. I didn’t think it was a good idea to go off the trail by myself.”

“Smart. It’s probably nothing, but … if you want to go look for it some other time, maybe Ian and I can come with you.”

Nora nodded and shovelled another forkful of pancakes into her mouth to avoid answering. Thankfully, like an angel unknowingly swooping in to save her, Ian started talking about his plans for the refurbished car, and Nora was absolved.

*****

After breakfast, Ian settled into the armchair in the living room with a book. With all the excitement that she’d had that morning, combined with a hearty helping of pancakes, Nora gave in and took a half-hour nap. She woke up feeling refreshed, which delighted Ellen, who wanted to go shopping in town.

Nora and Ellen spent the afternoon checking out the shops in the centre of town. Main Street looked as though it represented the entire town for a reason – a good chunk of the tourist shops and attractions were on that strip. Ellen led Nora in and out of tacky souvenir shops, and a couple of slightly weirder outfitters that Nora liked a good bit more. One such shop, Zephyr Oddities, had exactly the dim, packed, abandoned-attic aesthetic that Nora found so attractive.

“That place is so creepy,” said Ellen as they walked past, but she was nothing if not a good host, so she humoured Nora’s interest.

Inside, Nora was examining a diorama made from lovingly sculpted taxidermy mice when she felt someone come up behind her.

“Nora? Is that you?”

Nora whirled around. “Luther!” she said, her heart beating too quickly.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt your browsing,” he said, an amused smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.

“Hm?” Nora glanced back at the mice. “Oh. No, you didn’t interrupt. I was, uh … just admiring the craftsmanship.”

Luther leaned over to get a better view of the item. “It is quite something,” he said.

“So … what are you doing here?”

“The same as you, I suppose. Perusing. For such a small town, Wells does have its share of interesting establishments.”

Nora raised an eyebrow. Interesting establishments? Perusing? He had a funny way of talking, this Luther guy. It was like he was from another decade – another century, even.

“Hey Nora, what do you think of – oh! Hello.” Ellen had come around the corner holding a lamp, the base of which was carved into the shape of a dancing skeleton.

“Um, Ellen, this is Luther.” Nora gave her sister an intense look as she said it, willing Ellen to keep their earlier conversation a secret. For good measure, she added, “We met this morning at the store when I was picking up eggs. He’s new in town.”

“Ellen?” Luther, noting that her hands were full, offered a cordial nod instead. “A pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Ellen. Nora watched her sister as the woman’s eyes ran up and down Luther’s form – his black hair and clothing, his vaguely anachronistic mannerisms. “Nora says you’re new – how are you finding Wells so far?”

“It’s a lovely town,” said Luther with a smile. “Everyone I’ve met so far has been very kind.”

Ellen grinned. “That’s great! I remember when I was new here, I was nervous about moving to a small town. You know how small towns have a reputation for gossip. But I think Wells is just big enough that everyone still knows when to mind their own business.”

She laughed, and Luther joined in.

“Can I ask what you do, Luther? What brings you to Wells?”

“Oh, curiosity, mostly.” Luther’s smile was catlike.

Nora looked on as her sister played the part of curious small-town citizen. Nora herself had never been shy, but she certainly wasn’t gregarious in the same way that Ellen was. Nora should have guessed that the prospect of someone new in town would be enough for Ellen to start planning a veritable welcome-to-Wells party.

“We should have breakfast sometime. I wasn’t born in Wells, but I like to think I know the place – I’d love to show you around. There’s a wonderful restaurant, actually, just up the street from here. Avery’s. Have you heard of it?”

Nora felt suddenly claustrophobic.

“I haven’t heard of it,” said Luther. He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, then he said, “but I would love to join you. I’d certainly welcome the prospect of … new friends.” He glanced at Nora as he said it.

“Nora, how about Avery’s, then? Tomorrow morning?”

“Um. Sure.”

“Luther, does tomorrow work for you?”

“It certainly does,” said Luther with a slight bow. If he was irritated or put off by Ellen’s friendliness, he hid it very well. Nora felt vaguely heartened by this – he was odd, that much was certain. But it seemed to be a benign, even endearing oddness.

“Wonderful!” Ellen had put down the lamp she was holding and had a hand on Luther’s shoulder. “Well, then I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, at, say … 10?” She smiled at Luther. “I’ll let you get back to your … errands.”

“Ten sounds perfect,” said Luther. He looked at Nora again, and for a moment, she thought he might wink at her. He didn’t, though – he gave them both a polite nod and quietly exited the store.

“You scared him away,” said Nora, half-facetiously, when she was certain he was out of earshot.

“Oh, stop.” Ellen paused. “I hope you don’t think I was too forward?”

“A little,” said Nora with a frown. “You’re going to give him the impression that everyone in Wells is a busybody.”

Ellen waved a hand, but Nora didn’t miss her slight blush. “I’m just trying to be friendly. Honestly,” she said. “I like making new friends. You know that about me.”

Nora did know that about Ellen, and she said as much. The matter seemed resolved, then, and they spoke no more of it, leaving Nora to stew in her head about the prospect of breakfast with Luther, and to wonder exactly why the idea of it made her feel so anxious.

*****

When Nora woke up the next morning, she felt certain that something was wrong. She didn’t know where the feeling was coming from – objectively, nothing was the matter. Still, as she rose from bed and knelt to pet Smokey, who had jumped up from his spot at the foot of the bed, she had a sinking suspicion that bad news was fast approaching.

The source of her feeling manifested about 10 minutes later, as she filled the coffee pot with water from the sink. Ellen, wrapped in a robe, her hair a nest of tangles, greeted Nora with a hoarse whisper.

“Nora,” she said. “I think I’ve … come down with something.” She sounded on the verge of a sneeze – as soon as she finished speaking she pinched her nose between thumb and forefinger to stop it happening.

Nora’s heart sank. “You look awful!” She grabbed her sister’s hand affectionately. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring you some tea.”

Ellen nodded. Nora added, “I guess that means we’ll have to cancel on Luther, hm?”

Ellen’s eyes widened as if she hadn’t considered this. “No! We can’t … we can’t stand him up. I never got his number …”

Nora realised with dismay that Ellen was right. They couldn’t cancel – they could only stand him up. And as much as she pretended not to care about such trivial social mores, Nora had to admit that the idea of Luther, an odd but apparently exceptionally nice character, sitting alone, waiting for new friends who would never arrive, filled her with a kind of guilty sadness.

“Damn,” she muttered. “You’re right.” She looked up at Ellen, wanting to ask her sister if she was sure about the illness, but Ellen looked like the walking dead.

“You have to meet him, Nora. Tell him I got sick and apologise to him for me, okay? Maybe you can just reschedule or something.”

Nora nodded. “Well, if I’m not back by noon, you know who kidnapped me.”

“Shush. Don’t joke about that Nora. Anyway, he seemed perfectly nice.”

“Uh huh.”

*****

Avery’s loomed ominously ahead of her as she made her way up the street. It was 9:50 in the morning – she was right on time. And there was Luther, a tall, dark spectre just outside the door.

“Morning,” he said when she got close enough.

“Now you look more like someone from around here,” said Nora. He was dressed in black jeans and a white T-shirt with a black denim jacket over the top. Under the overcast sky he looked even more pale than he had the previous day. “The white shirt really helps.”

He nodded. “I took what you said under advisement. If I’m going to be living here for a while, I want to fit in as best I can.” He looked down the street behind her, obviously searching for Ellen.

“Yeah, unfortunately my sister’s come down with a pretty bad cold so … uh, it’s just me. I understand if you’d rather reschedule …” She looked at him.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, I’m terribly sorry to hear that. I trust it’s nothing too serious?”

“Nah. She’ll be fine in a day or two. Just the season I guess.”

Luther nodded. Nora had expected this to be awkward, but now that he was here, staring at her, she felt oddly at ease. There was something in his face, in his eyes, a kind of low, quiet humour that belied his slightly imposing appearance.

“Well, Nora … I don’t mind if it’s just the two of us.” He shrugged. “I’m sure I’d still appreciate your company.”

Nora chewed her lip. “Okay,” she said simply.

Luther’s smile told her she’d made the right choice.

“Shall we?” He opened the door and held it for Nora. A dull brass bell tied to the top of the door signalled their entry.

“Thanks,” she said.

The café was one of those nostalgic 1950’s joints. It was in need of a few repairs — a couple of the round, red, faux-leather stools at the counter had deep gashes in their upholstery, and the linoleum tiling on the floor was badly scuffed, but what the place lacked in looks it made up for in aroma. Nora inhaled deeply as the smell of frying bacon and hash browns, undercut with the sweetness of caramelising maple syrup and butter, wafted towards her. Her stomach growled.

A 40-something blonde in a polyester dress with a name tag that read “Rhonda” gave Luther a raised eyebrow as he emphatically asked for a booth instead of counter seating, but soon they’d faded into the background of early-morning customers. Nora glanced at her reflection as they walked on an angular path away from the long mirror behind the counter.

Rhonda poured out two mugs of steaming black coffee, and Nora wrapped her hands around hers, pulling it close. Peering over the lip through a cloud of steam, Nora said, “So … where did you come from?”

Yikes.

“Uh, I mean, where did you live … before here?”

“All around.” Luther paused. For a second, Nora thought he wasn’t going to say anything else, but then he continued. “Most recently in California. I drove in – just arrived here three days ago.”

“California?” Nora looked him over, now. If his all-black wardrobe had seemed incongruous for Wells, Nora had even more trouble picturing Luther on some Californian beach.

“Yes. I found it a little too warm, if I’m being honest. But, the people there are … very nice.” He shrugged.

“Hm. What did you do in California?”

Luther gave her a cryptic smile. “I worked a few odd jobs. Spent some time travelling around the state. It was interesting. But I find I’m more at home in cooler climates, so I decided to head north.” He took a tentative sip of his coffee. “And you? You’re visiting your sister?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, well, adopted sister, technically – not her, I’m the adopted one, but, anyway you get the idea. She and her husband moved here shortly after they got married.”

“Oh? So, this isn’t your hometown?”

“No. Ellen was born in Portland and me … well, I was only a baby when I was adopted, so I just assume I was born there as well. Ellen … she’s always been attracted to small-town living. Myself, I’m more of a city person.”

“You never found out about your birth parents?”

Nora shrugged. She looked up at Luther, then quickly turned her gaze to another patron at random. Two men in trucker hats were sitting across from each other at a booth, both preoccupied with their phones, occasionally making short remarks. When she looked back, Luther’s eyes were still drilling into her like green lasers.

“My mom … she didn’t think I needed to know. She was open about the fact that I was adopted – partly out of necessity. I look quite a bit different from Ellen, see. She always told me that when I grew up, I could make the decision for myself whether I wanted to do the research or not.”

“You decided not to?”

“I had a good childhood. I love my family. I don’t see a reason to upset the balance.”

Luther nodded thoughtfully. Nora thought he looked like he wanted to say something else but was holding it in, for whatever reason. She reached towards the small bowl of individual half-and-half packs at the centre of the table and fumbled with opening the foil lid on one.

“So where do you live now?”

“Seattle,” said Nora. “It’s not exactly a bustling metropolis, but … it’s a nice place.”

“Seattle. It’s been a long time since I was there.”

Rhonda returned with a notepad and a pen in hand. Nora ordered waffles; Luther, bacon, toast, and two eggs sunny-side up. After refilling their coffees, the waitress disappeared with haste.

They sat in amicable silence for a moment, Nora looking around the cafe, formulating little narratives for all the other patrons.

“So… what do you do for a living?” A smile cracked across his face as he asked the question. Nora couldn’t help giggling in return.

“I see you read your ‘conversation 101’ guidebook.”

Luther grinned into his plate. “It’s always a good idea to keep one’s skills … current,” he said with a shrug.

He flashed her another toothy smile and pushed a strand of hair away from his face. Nora pushed away an oddly strong urge to do it for him.

“Well, I think you look great,” she hazarded.

He bowed his head. “Thank you. I only hope that I can compete with your own impeccable sense of aesthetics.”

Nora smiled sweetly. She hadn’t exactly gone the extra mile this morning — a little winged eyeliner, black leggings and an oversized, but flattering sweater. She was glad Luther could appreciate a practical look. There was a pause as they both sipped their coffee. Then Nora cleared her throat.

“But anyway. To answer your question — I work at a museum. I restore antiquities.”

At this, Luther’s face seemed to light up. He raised his eyebrows and leaned towards her. “Antiquities? Ancient pottery, scrolls, figurines, that sort of thing?”

“Yeah! Exactly that. Funny that pottery is the first thing you said – right now we have some Viking pottery that I’m working on.”

Luther leaned back and appraised her. For a fraction of a second, the green of his eyes seemed to darken and intensify. Nora was transfixed. Her heart skipped.

She pushed her coffee mug away from her slightly.

“How interesting,” said Luther. The odd, supernatural intensity had left his face as quickly as it had come, leaving Nora wondering if she’d seen it at all. “I’ve always been fascinated by ancient artefacts – artwork, and the like. Do you find that … being close to such objects almost puts you in the shoes of those who created them? Your ancestors, even? I find that whenever I get to examine a truly old piece of art I find myself wishing I was back in the past, so I could see it as it once was. In context. Being used.” He paused, apparently lost in reverent thought.

“Exactly!” said Nora, a bit too excitedly. She lowered her voice. “Sometimes when I’m putting together fragments of a tool or a pot, or if I’m trying to work out what a statue might have looked like before all the paint got weathered away, I imagine that I am one of the object’s original owners. I find it … it helps me to get a better picture of what the object would have looked like.”

Luther smiled. The waitress had returned with their food. Nora took another sip of coffee, then set upon her waffle, spreading a healthy amount of butter over its surface and watching the pale yellow fat melt into the pastry’s square divots as she doused the whole thing with an equally liberal helping of syrup.

“You must be very good at your job,” said Luther. He was staring contemplatively at his plate, hands clasped on the table in front of him, fingers intertwined.

Nora laughed. “I like to think so. But I haven’t been doing it for very long.”

“Well, practice makes perfect. How long have you been at it?”

Swallowing a delicious mouthful of sugary, buttery dough, Nora said, “About four years, now. I started the job as an internship while I was finishing my master’s degree.”

“What did you study?”

“Anthropology.”

“Fascinating stuff.”

“Yeah. And I was really lucky to get that internship in the first place. As far as I know it was competitive. But I think I made a good impression with the head curator, Mr Jessop. We sort of became work friends, I guess, and he decided he wanted me there full-time.”

“Of course he did,” said Luther. He’d picked up one of his pieces of toast, now, and was examining it as though it were a fossil specimen. “You’re quite lovely. And obviously you were paying attention during your studies.”

Nora couldn’t help herself but to flush bright red. She picked up her mug of coffee and held it in front of her face, sipping it in an effort to hide. Luther turned the piece of toast over.

“Are you going to eat that, or just stare at it?”

Luther glanced up at her, then took a tentative bite off the corner of the piece of toast. Nora went back to her waffle.

When she came up for air again, she said, “There’s a museum in town. It’s small – obviously – but I was hoping to check it out, while I’m here, since I don’t get to come by very often. I was going to try to go on Tuesday, around noon … uh, if you’re interested … maybe you could join me?” Nora fidgeted under the table, kicking her feet together. She could hear the dull thud as the soles of her flat sneakers made contact with each other.

Luther smiled at her. It was an enthusiastic smile, not just placating, and Nora instantly felt better. The way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners made him look a little older, but there was something comforting, even attractive in that. Nora shifted in her seat and took another bite, looking briefly out the window. The intensity of his gaze seemed suddenly too strong – like she was under a spotlight.

“That sounds lovely,” he said, finally.

“Oh! Awesome. Great.” She looked at him.

“Will your sister Ellen be joining us?”

The answer caught in Nora’s throat. She frowned. “Um … she’s not all that interested in … history stuff. Maybe … maybe we can go, just the two of us?”

Luther smiled. “Of course.”

Nora nodded once, glancing down at the table. Her plate was a mess of crumbs and spilled syrup, while Luther’s looked nearly untouched.

“You’ve hardly eaten,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh.” Luther grabbed his fork and speared a small bite of egg, peering at it before bringing it to his lips. “I guess I’m just not terribly hungry.” He pushed the plate away. “I’ll get it packed up to go.”

After breakfast, they walked along Main Street, Luther toting his small Styrofoam container. Nora suggested a jaunt in the direction of the chapel, but Luther seemed reluctant, so instead they angled down a side street and found an antique shop. Closed, as was to be expected for a small town on Sunday, but there were enough knick-knacks in its window to keep the pair of them occupied for a time, pointing out the most peculiar of outdated household items, and comparing notes.

As the sun rose higher and brighter over the treetops, Nora remembered what she’d said to Ellen earlier. “Oh jeez,” she said, “it’s almost noon. I told Ellen I’d be back by then.”

“I suppose this is where we part, then.”

Nora nodded. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, then,” she said. “Do you have a number I can reach you at?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a phone yet,” said Luther.

Nora laughed, then realised he was serious. “Wait … seriously? You don’t have a phone?”

Luther shrugged. “I’ve never really needed one. But don’t worry – I’m very punctual. Just give me a time, and I’ll meet you at the museum then.”

“Okay … well, how about noon?”

“Noon works fine.”

“I’m not always punctual. So, if I’m 10 minutes late, uh, just assume I’ve been held up in traffic or something.”

“Of course.” Luther’s smile was placid.

“Hey, let me give you my number anyway. That way if you do decide to get a phone …” Nora dug a notebook and a pen out of her purse and scribbled down her digits. Luther took the page from her and stared at it for a moment as if memorising the numbers or cracking some secret code held within. The he folded it up and pocketed it.

Nora looked at him for a second more. She found herself struck, once again, by that urge to brush the hair out of his face. Once again, she managed to control herself. “I guess this is goodbye for now.”

Luther nodded, his hands at his sides. “Goodbye for now, Nora.”

Nora gave him an awkward tilt of her head and walked back up to the main road.

*****

The following morning, Nora was up at the crack of dawn. She’d slept fitfully, tossing and turning thinking about Luther.

She’d never considered herself shy, or even particularly awkward. But something about the man, or the conversation, or the circumstance, made her stomach flip. Picturing Luther – his green eyes, that slightly tousled, too-long hair – only made it worse.

Relax! It was just breakfast.

It must be all that fresh air, she thought, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling as blue light filtered in, fighting away the darkness. You’re getting squirrely, Nora.

It was another hour before she gave up on sleep and rolled out of bed, kneeling before her suitcase to tug yesterday’s socks on over her cold, bare feet.

Doing so, she remembered the amulet, and reached under layers of clothing and accoutrements to wrap her fingers around it.

It seemed smaller, now. Lighter than it had been in her pocket, but beautiful all the same. As she stared into that crimson jewel it occurred to her that she hadn’t needed to clean it — that of all the dirt, mildew, and moss that had surrounded it in that house, not a single speck had ever touched the ornament.

It had occurred to Nora that perhaps the amulet hadn’t been in the house for very long— that someone had dropped it there mere days or hours before she’d come along. But that scenario seemed absurd. Nora couldn’t shake the sense that no one else had been in that house for a very long time.

Her reflection, distorted by the facets of the jewel, stared back at her. She sighed and folded the amulet back into a pair of socks, then grabbed a towel from the closet and tiptoed to the bathroom to take a shower.

---

“Lured by Darkness” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

When antiquities expert Nora Watters travels to the small town of Wells, Oregon, to visit her sister, she believes she’s in for a relaxing two weeks. Everything seems to go as planned… until she meets a mysterious, overly attractive man named Luther DeLaurent. His pale skin, long black hair, and eyes the color of emeralds, make her attraction to him undeniable.

When a strange amulet comes to her hands, Luther appears to find it familiar, yet he doesn’t reveal much about it. Without her realizing, Nora finds herself hopelessly entangled in a world of vampires, demons, and supernatural forces, that she would never even dream of existing…

Luther Delaurent has experienced tragedy to its fullest essence, during his unearthly long life. His whole coven has been lost and he is given a power, that no one would ask for. Soon, people that he considered long gone come back to his life with only one mission; to bring the coven to its former glory. When his feelings for the curious Nora cannot be hidden anymore, will he be able to save her from powers she can not control?

As Nora finds herself more and more drawn to Luther’s charms, will she be able to help him find his family again, or will she succumb to the power of darkness?

“Lured by Darkness” is a paranormal romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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