Chapter 13 #2
The rook left and Josslyn sighed. “It is nice to feel almost normal again.” She flopped in a chair. “I guess if the spire turns out to not be helpful, we could stay here.”
“We could,” Avera replied, knowing it would only be temporary. If she were to stop Benoit and clear her name, she couldn’t hide forever.
“Do you really think you’ll find anything?” Josslyn questioned as Avera read the spines on the books, most about the raising of sheep and goats.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt to look.” Alas, none of the books appeared to mention the spire.
“You should try the marquis’ desk. Could be he kept a log of town events.”
Avera whirled. “That’s a great idea.” If the marquis were as meticulous as her mother, he’d have written down everything.
But, alas, he didn’t. She found nothing of interest, simply invoices for work done on the fountain and road. A ledger showing taxes collected. A half-written poem that appeared to be an ode to someone’s breasts. Thy bountiful bosom of delight, to rest my head every night.
Discouraged, Avera wandered in and out of the other rooms. One the marquis had shared with his wife, the bed large and covered in a warm quilt. Another chamber must have belonged to a young boy, judging by the tin soldiers on the floor. Another seemed girlish with all of its pink hues.
Avera trailed her fingers on the comforter embroidered with flowers only to pause as she felt a ridge. Pulling back the cover, she found a notebook. She flipped it open and the first words were written in large letters: Don’t Read. That means you, Kevin.
Avera went to put it back when Josslyn entered. “What did you find?”
“Someone’s diary.”
“Oh, how intriguing. What’s it say?”
“I can’t read it,” Avera exclaimed. “It’s private.”
“The owner is gone, and for all you know, they might have written something to explain what happened.” An impatient Josslyn yanked it from her grip. “Since you’re reluctant, I’ll do it.” She flipped immediately to the last page and blanched.
“What? What is it?” Avera asked.
“The last line says, ‘I doubt any of us will live ‘til morning.’” Josslyn flashed the book and showed the sloppy scrawl that didn’t match the neat, tight lines on the opposite page.
“What else did she write?” With her curiosity piqued, Avera lost her qualms about reading it.
“Let’s go back a bit and see.” Josslyn flipped several pages before reading aloud. “‘I met with Johnny again in the barn. Mother would be appalled if she knew, and father would most likely run him out of town. They don’t understand. We’re in love.’”
“That’s not exactly helpful,” Avera noted.
“Hold on, there’s more. ‘We parted with a kiss just as a strange mist rolled over the town. A good thing I was close to the house for I couldn’t see a thing.
Poor Johnny, I hope he managed to find his way home and didn’t bump his face on any walls.
Although if he does, I shall kiss his injury better. ’”
Avera pursed her lips. “A girl sneaking out to meet a boy and seeing some fog doesn’t explain what happened.”
“Don’t be so sure, listen to this.” Josslyn cleared her throat.
“‘I snuck out to see Johnny last night again, even though I hate having to hide our love. Father doesn’t approve of him. A marquis’ daughter should aim to marry a lord, he says.
Mother has asked, what lord, for we live at the end of the world.
Or so it feels. No one comes here because of the spire.
They are scared. I don’t know why. It can be quite beautiful.
Off to see my love.’” A pause then, Josslyn murmured, “‘Johnny never showed. Apparently, he never went home after our tryst. Father has arranged search parties for he's not the only one missing. Letty and little Bryon have gone missing too. The mist yester eve must have turned them around.’”
“Sounds as if some people got lost in the fog which explains a few missing folks, not all of them,” Avera mused aloud.
“Except the mist kept returning.” Josslyn pointed to the journal.
“‘The mist has been creeping down the mountain every night, and every morning more people are gone. Father has put out a notice that everyone is to be inside before nightfall and to shutter all the doors and windows. Johnny is still missing. I fear the worst. I am so tired, but not just from searching. I didn’t sleep well last night. Mother kept me up, pacing and muttering about someone singing outside. She accused me of lying when I said I couldn’t hear it.
I wonder if that rabbit she cooked might have spoiled. ’”
“Sounds as if her mother was hallucinating,” Avera murmured. “But if it were the food, wouldn’t they all have been affected?”
“It does seem odd only her mother heard things.”
“Is there more?”
Josslyn nodded. “The next bit is a bit harder to read. The ink smeared as if she were crying. ‘The mist rose suddenly in the middle of the afternoon. I was inside when it hit, peeling potatoes for dinner. Father was in his office, but mother was delivering some soup to the families that lost people. She never returned. So many disappeared, as if the fog ate them. I don’t understand what’s happening. I’m scared.’”
Chewing on the tip of her thumb, Avera paced. “I’ve never heard of a mist that steals people.”
“I’ve never heard of a whole town disappearing, and yet here we are.”
Avera glanced outside at the sunlight waning as the afternoon crept to dusk. “Should we fetch Gustav? He needs to know.”
“Knowing him, he won’t leave us alone for long. But I am thinking we need to find a secure room, one where this mist can’t enter.”
“Is there one? After all, the marquis and the one who penned the diary are gone. Did they manage to escape?”
“They tried. Listen to the next bit. ‘Father has told everyone to leave. Less than a third of us remain. Where will we go? This is my home. He says we must only bring what we can carry, but how do I choose? If only the horses were still in the stable, but they, too, are gone. Perhaps it would be better to join them. I miss my mother.’”
“It took the animals. But where are the bodies? The bones? This doesn’t make sense.”
“Could it be related to why your mother told you to visit?”
Avera shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t say much about it other than I needed to come.”
“I wonder if your mother’s death is linked to it.” Josslyn flipped back a few pages and pointed. “Look at the date for the first entry mentioning the mist.”
“It began the day after she died,” Avera murmured.
“Perhaps you can stop it?” Josslyn didn’t sound convinced.
“I highly doubt my presence will do anything. And surely if it did, Mother would have told me to come immediately. She wouldn’t have wanted people to suffer.”
“We don’t know that they suffered. Just because they’re missing doesn’t mean they came to harm.”
“People don’t willingly or abruptly leave their families without word. What else does the journal say?”
Josslyn’s lips moved silently and her face turned even paler before she continued.
“‘Father gathered those that remained, so few and yet so many. Only we weren’t allowed to leave. As we began to march down the road, the mist came suddenly, and this time we saw it. Saw it rolling down the spire in a wave of gray-white. Everyone screamed and ran. Some into the nearest houses. Others right into that dense fog. It was terrifying because not only did they simply disappear, but Gertie, who bolted, hollering into it suddenly went silent. Father dragged me and Brother back to the house. He’s forbidden us to leave.
I’ve never seen him so frightened.’” Josslyn glanced at Avera.
“The writing for the next passage is shaky. ‘The mist is back, and I hear the singing. I don’t know how I missed it before, it’s so loud.
It has no words, and yet I can understand.
The singer wants me to go outside. A good thing Father tethered Brother, because he tried to leave.
’” Josslyn paused and cleared her throat before lowly saying, “The last entry is the one stating they would die that night.” Josslyn shut the book.
“Well, that was enlightening and not at the same time. At least we know to stay away from the fog.”
“What I don’t understand is, if they knew that, then why are all the homes empty? Why were some of the doors left open as if they walked willingly into it? It almost seems like the fog lured them and made them forget all else.”
“I don’t know if we’ll ever find out.” Josslyn placed the book on the bed. “I think perhaps we should holler for Gustav.”
Turned out they didn’t have to. When they went downstairs, he walked in, arms full of clothes plus an earthen jug. “Success!” he crowed.
“Shut the door,” Josslyn exclaimed.
“Why? It’s not like it’s cold outside.”
Josslyn pointed. “Because the mist is coming.”
Probably the most innocuous and ominous thing Avera had ever heard spoken.