I followed the direction of the… thought? Vibration? I had no vocabulary for this. But I looked up toward the chandelier, dim with dust, half its crystals dangling sadly. Strands of dust and cobwebs were thick enough to obscure most of the previous glitter and grandeur.
Why did I look? I didn’t want to look, but now I had, and nearly screamed. Hanging upside down from one of the arms was a bat. A small bat. A tiny bat wearing a red silk vest and a gold chain. I stared, mouth open in shock, chills skittering downmy spine. He stared back, beady eyes bright with amusement. “You,” I whispered, pointing. “You’re… talking to me.” Why did I acknowledge him—his presence? That was only going to make him more real, and that was the last thing I wanted, needed.
He puffed up proudly, as far as a bat evencouldpuff.Telepathically, yes!he agreed eagerly, as if that were important. It was simply another way of pointing out that I was hearing things that weren’t real, and now, seeing them too.
“And last night,” I added faintly, “at the window, was that you?” I had been so certain I’d seen a flash of red and gold, a bat fluttering away into the darkening twilight. The delusion must have started then. Wasn’t that grand?
He made a very unconvincing show of ignoring the question, examining a dusty crystal instead. He tapped it with one of his small thumbclaws; it made a soft chime echo through the library, delicate and sweet. I am offended by the implication,he huffed.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest. “I’m hallucinating. I’m absolutely hallucinating. Too much mildew, not enough sleep. That’s it.” I could feel my future slipping from my grasp, sinking into the dust at my feet, pulling me down.
You’re not hallucinating,he said cheerfully.You’re simply compatible.I wasn’t even sure why it felt like I was talking to a he, the voice was light and high, befitting the bat’s tiny stature. Must be part of the delusion to know these things.
“Compatible with what?” I asked, my voice a high, panicked squeak that did not seem to dissuade the bat from talking to me,telepathically, apparently. A talking bat… If I’d been handling children’s books moments ago, that might have made some kind of sense. I hadn’t, though. There did not appear to be a children’s section in this library; all the books were old, ancient.
Unclear!The bat answered brightly, as if his confusing replies weren’t contributing to my spiraling thoughts. His answers? More likely, they were just products of my own overactive imagination. That was the last straw.
“I need air,” I muttered, stumbling back from the chandelier. “I need lunch, and tea, and maybe a psych evaluation.” Yeah, definitely a psych eval, but that was going to have to wait, somehow. I needed to finish this job without becoming a rambling, raving lunatic.
The bat gasped,Rude!He sounded so deeply offended that I sucked in a surprised gasp of air and nearly choked on a cloud of dust. Now I’d offended the figment dangling from the chandelier, his wings shifting over his slight, furry body with clear irritation.
“Sorry,” I said automatically, because I had apparently lost all sanity and manners alike. “I just, I need to leave.” There was no reply to that, thankfully. Notebook, bag, folder; I gathered everything in frantic handfuls and practically fled out the front doors, gulping down the fresh air like someone who’d been underwater too long.
Sweet Dreams Guaranteed felt like a beacon, warm and safe across the street. I hoped its kind owner was home because lunch with Gwen sounded exactly like what I needed: a rational conversation with someone sensible, human, and grounded.
Maybe after that, when I came back, the moldy spookiness would feel less overwhelming. Maybe I could convince Gwen to sit with me in the afternoon while I worked. And maybe, just maybe, there wouldn’t be any more talking bats. But I wasn’t holding my breath.
Chapter 9
Jade
The bell over the B&B’s front door jingled wildly as I barreled inside, and Gwen’s head snapped up in surprise. She was half in the lower cabinet beneath the kitchen counter, a tool belt slung low around her hips, a screwdriver in one hand, and her brown hair tied in a messy knot on top of her head. Her eyes widened the moment she saw me. “Well,” she said slowly, “someone’s had a morning.”
“I… I’m fine.” My voice cracked, hinting at the panic pounding in my veins; fantastic. I attempted to pull myself together, smoothing my blouse and casually brushing dust off my skirt as if I hadn’t just run away from a telepathic bat in a haunted library. Oh God, had I really just thought that?
Gwen gracefully unfurled herself from the cabinet and rose, hands on her hips. “Sweetheart, you look like you sprinted through a tornado.” She said it so kindly, with a bemused smile and a twinkle in her eye. She had no idea what had really happened, and there was no way I was going to tell her. Nuh-uh, the last thing I wanted was for this sweet person to think I was nuts.
Unable to withstand her gentle scrutiny, I blurted, “I need a shower!” and fled, my feet thudding in a staccato, panicked rhythm on the smooth, polished stairs as I raced up them. I barely managed to shut my bedroom door before pressing my back against it, panting like I’d outrun a pack of wolves. My heartthudded against my ribs, a mix of adrenaline, confusion, and absolute mortification.
“A talking bat…” I whispered, dragging a hand down my face. This was worse than what had happened with my stupid ex. Nobody knew, but the mortification was so real and so heavy that I felt like I was drowning. “Sure, this is totally normal. Happens every Tuesday.” I drew in a ragged breath that shuddered through my chest. Now what? Did I try to call a therapist for an emergency consult, or did I try to pretend this hadn’t happened? Maybe it was a one-time lapse… A girl could hope.
I pushed off the door and stalked to the window. The library loomed across the street, silent and still in the midday sunlight. Nothing stirred, nothing flapped, and nothing chattered at me inside my head. Then again, the windows were still boarded up with wood weathered silver-gray from age. There wasn’t much to see, just an old building, sad and dark, disgraced in her old age.
“Insanity,” I muttered. “This is just a brief moment of insanity. It won’t happen again.” I would insist on that until my brain cooperated, it was the only outcome I was willing to accept. Anything else simply didn’t fit into my timetable or plans for the future.
My gaze drifted sideways toward the General Store. Through the front windows, I spotted Luther behind the counter, speaking to a customer. It was a broad-shouldered man in a flannel shirt with a cowboy hat angled low. It wasn’t the cowboy who held my attention. No, it was all Luther.
As if he felt my stare, he paused mid-sentence and looked up—right at me, from across the street, through the glass. Through everything. Our gazes met, his cool, crystalline blue locking onto mine with startling clarity. A shock rippled through me, hot, unwelcome, and impossible to ignore. My breath hitched. I yanked the curtains shut like they’d burned me.
In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face until my skin tingled. Then I showered, scrubbing away dust, fear, and whatever strange tension Luther stirred in me. The bat was banished from my thoughts, I was not thinking about him. When I dressed again, in jeans, boots, and a plain T-shirt, I felt more grounded.
More like someone who could handle a derelict library, and less like someone who’d dressed prettily in a green skirt just in case a certain frost-eyed man showed up. I groaned and thunked my forehead against the mirror. “Pathetic.”
Downstairs, I found Gwen at the counter, the newly repaired cabinet door swinging smoothly beside her. She had thick slices of sourdough laid out and was layering bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes with practiced ease. “Hungry?” she asked, smiling warmly.
“So hungry,” I said, so grateful for normalcy. A BLT sandwich looked and smelled exactly like the kind of thing to ground me in reality—the familiar scents erasing the odor of dust and decay in ways the shower hadn’t been able to.
We carried our plates out to the back porch, where sunlight spilled across a garden bursting with blooms. I spotted lavender, peonies, climbing roses, and a lot more lush greenery I couldn’tidentify on sight. Bees drifted lazily from flower to flower, while beyond the fence, the forest swayed, dark and inviting. “It’s beautiful here,” I breathed, surprised that the garden was this extensive.
