Chapter 10
“When the devil swept through our town, I knew real fear. He came like the sudden summer rain without clouds of warning. A pale man in the town square, taller than any man I had seen before. He did not look kind. He looked like jagged stones on an ocean shore that promised wreckage to any boat that should approach. He wore death like a coat, and he wore it well.”
Nic stifled a yawn as he emerged from the Archives.
Ever since his call with Elliot Harman, Nic could think of nothing else. The creature that had so consumed him for all these years, his professional dangling carrot, was finally within reach.
Or so he hoped, at least.
When he’d first left the UK, his friends and family struggled to understand why he couldn’t pursue his research there, instead.
It was true, the British Isles had their own fair share of Witches, Werewolves, and Fairies, but there was nothing quite as fascinating as the creatures that roamed the continental United States.
He’d been bewitched by Bigfoot and Mothman as a child, by demonic possessions and ancient, evil creatures.
His appetite was insatiable, as was his curiosity.
And so, when he came across that first mention of the Hollow Walker some 12 years prior, he’d never been able to shake it.
An ugly, terrifying creature, old as time itself, roaming the Appalachian Mountains and feasting off the flesh and bone of those it encountered.
So little was known about it, despite his late nights trolling Reddit forums. But there were whispers of it, suggestions that maybe, just maybe, it was still out there.
And if it was, it was Nic’s understanding that it would have a century’s worth of experience. Finding it would prove tricky—unless it wanted to be found.
Nic was running over a potential bait-and-switch scenario when Zachary rounded the corner.
“Oh, there you are,” Zachary said. “Elliot Harman called, three times.”
“Three times? Has he found anything?” Zachary fell in step beside Nic, following him back toward his office.
“That’s the thing, he was barely making any sense. Something about some guy he spoke to. He said he emailed you about Mercyhill.”
“Stop.” Nic halted and turned to face Zachary. “Mercyhill?” he repeated.
Zachary looked at him with wide eyes. “Uh, yeah, Mercyhill. What? Am I saying it wrong?” Nic shook his head.
“What about it?”
“He said he was heading up there before his evaluation, and, er, he wanted to run something past you first.”
“Damn!” Nic bolted down the hall, and a bewildered Zachary ran after him.
“Hey! What’s going on?”
Nic raced into his office and picked up the phone. He dialed Elliot’s number just as Zachary rounded the corner, panting. “Nic?” Zach asked, aghast. Nic appreciated that no one had ever seen him move with such urgency, but he didn’t have time to explain himself.
“Come on, pick up, pick up,” Nic murmured. The call went to voicemail. He hung up and redialled.
He drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently, but again, the call rang through to voicemail.
“You’re freaking me out,” Zachary said. “You want to fill me in here, boss?”
“Mercyhill,” Nic said, slamming the phone down. “Keep trying to reach him, and if you get him, tell him that under no circumstances is he to venture into Mercyhill on his own. Is that clear?”
“Uh, yes, sure, I will tell him.”
Nic ransacked his desk. Papers, files, and books went flying. He shoved his most recent notes into his satchel.
“Context, though, you know.” Zachary watched the chaos in disbelief. “Might prove useful, if I do catch him.” Nic moved to the door, out into the hall and to the elevators. Zachary trailed behind.
“It could be a trap, the creature—Mercyhill. It’s believed that’s where it lives, or where it hunts. Someone like Elliot is way out of his depth. He doesn’t have any clue what he’s dealing with.” The elevator arrived and Nic stepped inside. Zachary quickly joined him.
“Got it, okay, makes sense. But where are you going?” Zachary eyed his bag.
“Well, someone has to stop him, or else … join him. This might be our only chance to ever document the creature.” The elevator arrived at the lobby and Nic was out in a flash.
“Wait, you’re going out there yourself? Right now? Without clearance—hey, wait!” Zachary dashed after him, fumbling for his keycard to get through the security barriers.
“No time to talk, Hornsby! I’ll call you from the airport!”
And just like that, Nic Dyre was gone.
The sun crept over the horizon as Alexys’s flight descended into Charleston, West Virginia.
The journey had been easy, and it was only a 40-minute cab ride to the hotel.
She pulled up the reservation on her phone and then sent a plane and thumbs-up emoji to Natalie.
The hotel, which was really more of a bed and breakfast, was …
quaint. The Colonial Revival-style building was in need of a fresh coat of paint, but the lobby was abuzz with guests finishing their complimentary breakfasts, which Alexys thought looked pretty good right about now.
She dropped her bag at the reception desk and cleared her throat.
The girl behind the counter looked no older than 16.
She smacked a piece of gum in her mouth as she flipped through a magazine.
“Excuse me?”
The girl glanced up over the edge of her magazine and sighed dramatically. Setting the gossip rag down, she popped her gum again.
“Right, can I help you?”
“Yes, checking in, please, I have a reservation.” Alexys tried to be polite, but every time the girl smacked her gum, she had the urge to snatch it from her mouth and toss it in the trash.
“What’s the name?”
“Alexys Keane. It should be under my company’s name: Entity.”
The girl tapped on her keyboard with overly long, albeit beautifully painted, nails and asked, “There’s two?”
“Right. Mine is the one under my name … um … Alexys Keane.” She spoke slowly, and the girl rolled her eyes.
“Mmkay, your room is pre-paid and it comes with breakfast. I reckon you’re not familiar with these parts, so if you want a map, there’s one on the table on your way out.
Breakfast is served from seven to ten. Any questions?
” Alexys shook her head and accepted the room key.
“Good. Elevator is by the staircase, if you need it.”
“Oh, and my colleague, Elliot Harman, what room number is he in, please?”
The girl narrowed her eyes at her but shrugged. “Same floor as yours, at the end of the hall. Room twenty-three.”
“Great, thank you.” The girl dismissed her with a flick of the magazine and a smack of gum.
Relieved to get away, Alexys dragged her suitcase through the foyer to the elevator.
She hesitated when it slid open. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern elevators she used every day at Entity.
This was practically an antique. Wrought iron doors rattled open, revealing a small wooden box of a room.
As soon as she stepped in, the whole cage shuddered, and Alexys silently prayed the mechanics of it were up to code.
The door groaned as it began to shut until a hand reached in and stopped it.
Alexys looked up. The hand was connected to a well-dressed gentleman who offered Alexys a subtle bow of his head.
She smiled, the sort that was born of southern-raised good manners and stiffly polite.
He stepped into the other side of the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.
As the elevator hummed to life, she took in the scuffed toes of her tennis shoes, the weathered fabric looking even worse for wear next to this man’s immaculate pair of dress shoes.
She was no expert, but they looked insanely expensive.
She strained her eyes to read the smallest sliver of a Prada logo peeking out from the hem of his trousers.
His shiny, black leather shoes were entirely spotless, like he’d only bought them just that morning.
Alexys looked at her comfy leggings and couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.
They were two sides of a very strange corporate coin.
When they reached the second floor, he kindly stepped out to allow her enough room to maneuver both herself and her suitcase.
Alexys stared up to the plaques across the hall, signaling which direction to go for which rooms.
“Enjoy your stay, Miss Keane.”
Her head snapped back, but the elevator doors had already clicked shut.
How on earth had he known her name?