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“Nope. It’s back in my room.”
“Hmm.” He nods.
“Look, there’s something off happening in this house. And you may already know I have no memories, or well limited memories. But there are these things inside—” I motion towards the house.
“What kind of things? Like the one from yesterday?”
Were they like the one from yesterday? I can hardly recall the look of the creature. Don’t know if I would like to. “Wild animals…I don’t know.”
His focus remains on his cigarette, twirling it around his fingers inspecting like he’s never seen one before.
“You know that I know it’s not wild animals.”
“Yeah. Well…do you know what they are?”
“I have my conjectures, but let’s focus on what happened in the house,” he replies, a curl of smoke wafting between us.
“Those things will kill, you know?” I offer, motioning to the cigarette.
Again, the corner of his mouth tilts upward. “I’m already dead inside, having this won’t hurt. Now, continue.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it to you. I’m sure you know of the East Wing and its ruins. As I was exploring, something invaded my senses—like my mind.”
“Have you seen or felt it since then?”
“I think Kieran killed one in the forest, I’m sure of it. That was yesterday, right before we left for town. But—it didn’t look like the one from the pass.”
A heavy sigh leaves him. “There are some things I can’t risk telling you. But I can promise that I’ll keep an eye out for anything fishy.”
“Why isn’t anyone telling me anything?” I ask between gritted teeth. Anger seems to be my newest emotion.
“There are things, out of our understanding, tended by the hands of Kieran. Do you know his nickname is the Demon of Devil’s Bay?”
“Yes, so? I’ve heard it plenty of times. What are you all scared of? He’s just a man.” I lean against the vehicle mimicking his stance. I am so close, I could reach for his gun and make a run for it. But where? I hadn’t the first clue what to do after yesterday’s failure.
“You’ve been here for what? A couple of days? Weeks? His family has been a resident of this town for a few generations. Apart from being financial contributors, they dabble in things that isolate them from the rest of us townsfolk.” The Sheriff’s tone lingers on berating.
“You’re being annoyingly vague.”
The trees whisper above us, their leaves rustling with the cold morning’s air.
I’m outside, yet I feel caged. My freedom feels like a mere illusion. I could do everything for knowledge—for information on my whereabouts—yet who do I run to for true freedom? I had no way of escaping this town.
“Have you heard the story of his father’s disappearance?” he asks.
“Daisy has told me enough to know he left his wife and child to fend for themselves,” I say.
“What else has ‘Daisy’ told you?” he asks, quoting Daisy with his fingers.
I shoot him a glare, and he returns it with the same vigor.
“Well, Daisy, has told me that Victor Lazarus was into the occult, obsessed with the afterlife.”
Sheriff Valen’s lips curl into a sneer.
“That was the least of it. Lazarus himself was obsessed with the idea of bringing someone back from the dead. He was fired from his university tenure and locked himself away here in this house. I’ve been trying to gather as much information as I can on the family. They’ve been involved in plenty of illegal activities that could put Kieran Lazarus away for life.”
“But you’re friends with him, no? A part of his inner circle?” I push, wanting to know more. He might be an embodiment of the law, but that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. Sheriff Valen is anything but lawful.
