Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Kassie
The third pancake sizzled as I flipped it over, revealing a perfect golden-brown surface.
Finally, not charred to a crisp like yesterday's attempts.
A small victory. Just as I set it on the plate and reached for the batter bowl, I caught movement on the stairs—Harlow, eyes half-closed, carefully placing one foot in front of the other as she descended.
She rubbed her eyes with balled fists, not bothering with a greeting as she slumped into the dining room chair. Harlow looked up at me with a grunt, her small frame appearing even more diminished this morning, like a wilted flower.
“Enough is enough. I’m taking you to the doctor.” I poured the batter into the pan. “This can’t go on. It's been three days, and you look like dead warmed over.”
Harlow giggled and then sucked up the snot that was hanging out of her nose. “That’s funny, because there are a lot of ghosts around here.”
I rolled my eyes and flipped the pancake.
Yeah, sure, there were some ghost-like entities.
For one, the Headless Horseman… because he couldn’t very well be alive without a head…
and the Slenderman, since supposedly he could vanish through walls and slip into dreams, which I think he does with Harlow, who won’t admit it.
And who knew what else was out there? I believe we saw a ghost… a poltergeist, perhaps?
The pancake landed on the plate with a soft thud as I placed it in front of Harlow. Her usual setup waited silverware, orange juice, and her coffee fixed just how she preferred it. "Get some food in you," I said, nodding toward the spread. "Then I'm dragging you to see the doctor in town."
Harlow shook her head. “The doctors come to the houses. It’s weird. The only time you go in is if you are missing a finger.”
I crinkled my nose. “And when did you find this out?”
“I had an awful period. I explained my symptoms on the urgent care hotline, and a doctor came right up to my door within minutes.” She giggled and placed her forehead against the table.
I pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. "What's got you so giggly?" I asked, watching her with concern. Maybe I should stop dosing her with all that cold medicine. It seemed to be turning her brain to mush.
“The doctor must have been a witch. She came in, boiled water, and handed me a cup of tea. She said tea could fix nearly everything in the body. To help with the pain, she gave me extra tea bags for months.
I stared at her. Not because I didn’t believe her, but because this was our new normal.
“Then let’s call her, doctor or not. It’s better than taking cold medicine. Herbs, natural stuff is better than all that pharmaceutical stuff, anyway. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I snatched my phone and headed to the fridge, where we'd stuck that emergency contact sheet…
the one the welcome committee had pressed into Harlow's hands our first day here.
All these special local numbers, because apparently, regular emergency services couldn't find us out in these woods.
"Too remote for 911," they'd said with those strange, practiced smiles. "You'd be dead before they arrived."
Not so sure about that, but we would play along.
By the time the “doctor” arrived and examined Harlow, she was diagnosed with a virus, a bad one. She explained that Harlow’s immune system was very weak and she needed to be resting and sleeping more instead of working so much.
Harlow did not like that in the slightest; FaceTime with viewers was when you made money, and if she wasn’t online, how was she to make more money?
“I need to get better…” Harlow whined and pulled on my sleeve. We had made it to the couch. The doctor, Elowyn, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
“Child, you need to rest. I can give you all the herb pills I can to heal your virus, but if you are unwilling to take care of yourself, it won’t work. Your body is a temple for your soul; if you don’t take care of it, it will crumble.”
Harlow sniffed. “This temple needs to make money, though. I need my offerings. It’s gotta pay the bills.”
A laugh escaped me. "Harlow, the house is already paid for, and I've got this month's expenses covered.
For real—rest up, and maybe consider an actual vacation afterward.
Or hey, if you're that desperate for content, just aim the camera at yourself sleeping.
Trust me, there's definitely an audience for that kind of thing. "
Harlow’s eyes widened. “You know, you’re right!” She pointed at me. “Marigold69 does that, but usually she’s not wearing much.”
“I can’t imagine,” I deadpanned.
Elowyn's lips formed a silent "oh dear" as she dug through her enormous floral bag. Something metallic clinked inside, and with practiced fingers, she extracted a small, weathered tin.
Elowyn pressed the tin of tea into my hands.
"Brew this twice daily for three days." Her gaze shifted to the cold medicine on the table, and her nose wrinkled.
"That chemical concoction stops now." She plucked the box between two fingers, dropping it into the depths of her floral bag with a decisive snap of the clasp.
"Complete bed rest until I return. I'll check on her progress myself in three days' time. "
Elowyn slipped out the door without another word, the latch clicking softly behind her. I stared at the closed door, shaking my head. "Well, that's a first. House calls with no bill. Small-town medicine is something else."
Harlow lay back down on the couch, her arm over her head. “I didn’t have to pay last time. She said that my bill was covered.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Your bill was covered? Does that mean someone is covering it for you? Harlow, why didn’t you bring that up either? Do you have a stalker in this town?”
Harlow perked up. “You think I do?”
There was something wrong with us. Really wrong.
I rubbed my forehead and sat next to her. “You need to tell me these things. We have to keep track of each other. That’s the rules we have in place.”
We needed to know where each other was at all times. Our phones were linked up, so that wasn’t a problem most of the time. But we needed to know who we were with, what things were happening to us, what abnormal discoveries we’ve found.
When Harlow wasn't streaming, she kept to herself except for her grocery run, a little volunteer work here or there, and weekly lunches with the mayor at that little coffee shop on Main Street.
For the past couple days, Harlow had refused to see the mayor in person because of her state and had made me turn him away at the door.
He was not happy about that.
I pulled the blanket up to Harlow's chin, then reached for the ceramic teapot. Steam curled from its spout as I poured hot water over the waiting tea bag in her cup. Crossing my arms, I watched the amber color slowly spread through the water.
“Are you going to be okay if I go meet Atlas today?”
Harlow bit her lip and smiled. “Kassie and Atlas, sitting in a tree…”
“Harlow…stop…”
“H-u-m-p-i-n-g.”
I slapped her leg. “How dare you!”
“Well, it's true. All you do is rub your bits together and kiss. You need to move on to the next level. It's been days. I can smell his weird smell all the way in my room.”
Harlow wasn't wrong about Atlas's scent. Something earthy and wild clung to him, especially after our make-out sessions in my bedroom. Night after night, he'd show up at my door once his shift ended and watch me work.
I couldn't help but find it endearing how Atlas would tense up whenever my viewers sent virtual gifts during streams—digital roses, animated treasure chests, glittering necklace icons.
His jaw would clench slightly each time the notification sound chimed, even though these were just symbols that converted to actual money in my account later.
Something about watching other people shower me with tokens of affection, even digital ones, clearly unsettled him.
Once Atlas realized I received virtual gifts during streams, he started bringing me real ones.
Every night, he has arrived with something new—fresh flowers, plush blankets, even a wooden table he crafted to match my bookcases.
Last week, he surprised me with a body pillow he'd made from one of his shirts, stuffed and sewn so I could fall asleep surrounded by his scent.
The guilt of my night shifts had been nagging at me lately.
Every time Atlas showed up after his work, I'd catch myself wondering if I could rearrange my streaming schedule.
Maybe I could scale back a bit—my account had been doing well enough that I didn't need to hustle quite so hard anymore.
There were plenty of content creators who made decent money without constant live broadcasts.
During my streams, I'd always set up Atlas's spot—his oversized mug of cocoa steaming beside the small trash can he insisted on having nearby.
Every night, he'd arrive with a fresh block of wood and his pocket knife, sending curls of pine or oak into the bin as his hands worked.
Whatever he was creating, he kept it hidden from me, tucking it away whenever I glanced over.
I was dying to see what he was working on.
“I’m going to see Atlas at work,” I commented, preparing myself to get up. “Take him some lunch, see him in action.”
Harlow hummed. “Yeah, see those human muscles, or are you wanting to catch him in his mothy muscles?”
I sighed dramatically. “He’s shy; I don’t think he trusts me to show himself. I keep saying things like, you can tell me anything. I love monster shows. I even showed him my collection of monster romances on my shelf and how much I loved them. He even took a book home to read!”
Harlow quirked a brow. “Seriously? Do you think he read it?”
I nodded. "He definitely read it. I told him everything I love about paranormal romance.
" I tapped my finger against my palm for emphasis.
"How these non-human men are so different—more primal, more intense.
I literally told him I find that kind of possessiveness attractive, not scary.
I even admitted I wish someone would court me that way, you know, the whole claiming-his-mate thing. "
Harlow’s mouth dropped. “You really told him all that?”
I nodded. "Yeah, might as well hang a neon sign around my neck that says 'Mothman dick, welcome.
'" I tucked my legs under me. "But it's not just about the thrill.
He's so attentive—remembers everything I mention, even in passing.
" My voice softened. "The way he holds me at night, like I'm something precious.
.." I flopped dramatically onto the couch cushions, then sat up again, leaning forward.
"He's restraining himself. I can feel it.
All this gentleness is just the surface.
" I snapped my fingers. "Someday that control will break, and honestly? I'm counting down the days."
Harlow laughed and started to cough. “When do you think he will reveal himself to you then? At the one party I was at before you, it was obvious by the next party that one girl had accepted a lycan.”
I shrugged. “I’m hoping by the next one. What I found strange is, you know, how I can feel through the glamor? Well, I don’t anymore. At least around his face, it feels like a real human face. I can kiss him…”
Harlow hummed. “I was going to ask about that. He might be under another spell, given to him by a witch. I think someone like Elowyn gave him that ability.”
I tilted my head. “You think so?”
Harlow sniffed and then rubbed her nose.
“Elowyn isn’t a doctor. In fact, I’m sure of it.
She has to be a witch. I saw she had a pentagram, a witch’s knot and an amulet of some kind around her neck when she was checking my pulse.
While some people just like those things, I also find it odd that a doctor would prescribe herbs instead of big pharma meds. ”
“She could be a holistic doctor.”
Harlow narrowed her eyes.
I raised my hands in defense. “Hey, just trying to give perspective here, but yes, it is possible.”
Harlow snuggled back into the couch. I placed a bottle of water on the coffee table, the remote and turned off the lights. The blackout curtains were closed so she could get some sleep instead of worrying about the paranormal oddities of this town.