“Roger that.”
Ollie took a deep breath, his gaze trailing around Noble’s bedroom—from the wooden wall across from the bed, which held a large stone fireplace, to the high, exposed wooden-beam ceiling, to the dressers around the room, and trunk at the foot of the bed—trying to relax, but frowned as he noticed something. “Where’s your pendant?”
“My pendant?” Noble repeated slowly.
“The antique necklace that used to be displayed on your dresser?”
“Ah, I stored it.”
Ollie would have asked why if he wasn’t so tired, and starting to feel icky as the sweat and other fluids on him were drying. But as he was, in fact, both of those things, he instead held his arms straight up in the air, and pouted. “Clean me, please.”
“As you wish, Baby.”
Tick.Tick. Tick.
Jahla’s eyes snapped open as the repetitive sound reached her ears, frowning when she found herself standing and staring out into pure darkness, the original ticking noise growing louder while more joined in.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
But the darkness didn’t last long, as seconds later, the walls around her dimly lit up. Jahla’s eyes widened as she looked all around at the hundreds of variously sized antique framed paintings on the walls, surrounded by endless old clocks, making the source of the ticking clear.
Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick!
The subjects of the artworks were completely unidentifiable, as if someone had smeared the still-drying paint as much as possible, leaving only spots of unclear detail behind. At least, that was true for all except one.
TICK! TICK! TICK! TICK!
The largest painting, centered on the wall in front of her, was clear and detailed…and of Ollie smiling. Staring up at her friend, her brow furrowed when the ticking around her grew louder, as if more clocks had wound up on their own. While the original ticking continued to stand out, seeming to be the loudest of all as it appeared to speed up.
TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK!
She took a stumbled step back, covering her ears as the loudest clock went off, the ringing seeming to vibrate through her very bones.
Jahla jerkedup in bed with a gasp. Staring into the darkness, her ears were ringing, and a fine tremble continued through her body, as if she still felt the vibrations of the clocks. “What…the fuck…?”
Taking a shaky deep breath, she swallowed hard before laying back down and closing her eyes again, softly saying, “Nothing… It was…nothing…”
“Have a nice day.” Jahla gave her best retail smile to the woman she just checked out.
Her smile dropping as soon as the lady turned her back, she slumped over her desk with a heavy sigh when she was sure she wouldn’t be heard. “Stupid fucking dream…”
Unfortunately, Jahla had not managed to get back to sleep. Which meant she was running on about five hours, and that meant dealing with the public was going to be even more tedious than normal.
But, FUCK!? What was that dream even supposed to mean?! Okay…the others had not necessarily been clear, or even were clear now, though the Noble one had been easy to guess. The repeat one was obviously about Ollie in some way, and then she sort of predicted running from that fake zombie, but shit—no! They meant nothing! They were not real! It was just a coincidence—multiple coincidences—that was all…
Though…if she were to attempt to understand last night’s dream, then obviously they were counting down to something, and it was possibly telling her that time would be up soon, for whatever the loudest clock represented in relation to Ollie.
Jahla sighed again, but straightened up in her chair when she spotted the witch himself coming up the front stairs of the library, with Noble behind him. It was just after 10:30am, and knowing Red had opened the library, she couldn’t help but wonder how much extra sleep the man had gotten, as he looked like he could use a few more. He was also wearing the same black raccoon-patterned overalls, beige long-sleeved blouse, and black scarf tied into a bow, from yesterday.
“I’d ask how last night went, but based on the local news that popped up on my feed this morning, I already know,” Jahla drawled as Ollie neared her desk.
Her friend’s nose wrinkled. “How much was shared?”
“The short summary of the story being shared was that as a kid, Georgie Babs, witnessed his cancer-stricken mother, Darline, murder his father’s business partner, Irene, and his father covered it up. And that Marlow Babs then proceeded to keep the secret of where the body was hidden until just before he died.”
Noble snorted. “So, everything?”
Ollie tsked. “Someone from the Police Department must have leaked the news.”
