I know how to ask questions in a respectful way.
Disgusted with myself for losing my objectivity and hours of precious research time, I wander down Main Street searching for a spark of inspiration. The town’s full of tourists, bumping into each other on the sidewalk, muttering quick apologies as they pass. Bells from shops jingle as patrons go in and out. Below the normal sounds of a quaint town during its busiest season, something else drifts.Clop…clop… So faint, I shake my head. Has to be my imagination.
Clop…clop…clop…clop…
My chest tightens. What if that…thingI saw in the cemetery is now loose in the town?
Stop it.I’ve seen more than one horse trotting through the streets since I arrived in Crowsbridge Hollow. It’s probably a carriage ride for tourists.
Except, the rhythm feels too slow. Too precise.
Instinct propels me forward. My brain says,run back to the inn,but my body steers me in a different direction.
The bell above the House of Ink & Iron’s door rattles as I push it open. The scents of antiseptic and citrus cleaner assault my nose. Machinery hums. The chair behind the front desk is empty. I glance at the glass case showing off several pieces of iron jewelry.
Handmade by Declan Sterling.
The pendant around my neck twitches, dragging against my collarbone, tugging me forward like it’s caught a current. The air tastes metallic, like biting a penny.
I lift my gaze in the direction the pendant’s leaning toward and find Declan, sleeves up, wiping down his station with quick, almost angry swipes. His forearms flex as he works, dark ink shifting with the movement.
He glances up and freezes when our eyes lock.
“Emery.” He sets the rag in his hand on the counter. A flicker crosses his face—something between irritation and regret, which chases away any warm fuzziness I felt at seeing him again. “What are you doing here?”
“Good afternoon to you too.” I attempt a breezy tone, but it comes out brittle. My hand lingers over the display case, pretending fascination with the iron bracelets, earrings, and pendants. Anything to disguise the thudding in my chest. “Relax, I’m not here to pester you.”
He slaps his palms together and straightens. “You’re not a pest, Emery.”
My heart stumbles. “Not quite a compliment but I’ll take it.” I force a tight smile.
The corners of his mouth twitch.
“So…” I step away from the jewelry and closer to him. “Ink anything interesting today?”
His lips tilt up. So close to an actual smile. “Yeah, actually. I did a piece with a crow preening in front of a mirror. You would’ve liked it.”
He remembered I like crows.
My heart thumps faster.
Of course he remembered. You yap about them every chance you get.
“Sorry I missed it,” I say.
He approaches with cautious steps, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I grabbed a few pictures. In case you wanted to see it.”
He was thinking of me while he was working?
“Oh…oh really?” My brain short-circuits. “How’d you know I’d be back?”
The hint of a smile slides off his face. “Figured you’d have more questions before you leave the Hollow.”
Leave? “I’m here for the rest of the week. Or longer…if I need to.”
His shoulders relax but the wrinkle between his eyes deepens.
“Can I see it?” I gesture to the phone in his hands.
