Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
DANIEL
Idon’t know what the fuck’s going on, but after the spirit visited, things got… weird. Not in any way I can put into words. I haven’t even said anything to Skye—I’m supposed to be the sensible, steady one in this relationship, not the nutjob who announces “Something is coming.”
But that’s how it feels. It’s like this waiting hush of expectation. Even the bugs and critters stay out of my kitchen garden. It’s like they’re lying low, preparing for whatever’s coming.
I really hope it’s just a late summer storm and not an apocalyptic wave of demons.
The thought makes me pause as I lock the equipment room. Am I being shortsighted? Could this feeling be a warning that the demons are coming? Should I be talking to someone about this?
Dammit. Heaving a sigh, I tuck the key away and head for Gabe’s cottage. It’s Monday, I’ve just finished my only demo for the day, and on the off chance that this is important, I don’t want to be the doofus who didn’t say anything.
It’s not a surprise when I see Connor sitting with Gabe on the tiny front porch of the cottage.
Since their entirely unproductive chat with their bosses at the Collective five days ago, he’s stopped searching the area for the hidden gateway and started sticking close to the estate.
As far as I know, the rest of the team that was assigned out here is still looking.
“Dan,” he calls, holding up his glass of what looks like iced tea in a salute. “Join us. Let’s enjoy the last of summer while we can.”
I stop three paces short of the steps. “Has he been drinking?” I ask Gabe.
Connor makes an indignant noise, but Gabe chuckles. “Nah, he’s just in a mood.”
“Something fuckery this way comes,” Con mutters, and I nearly miss a step.
“That’s not the line,” Gabe tells him, then asks me, “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I join them on the porch and lean against the railing. “Just… that’s kind of why I’m here. This is stupid, but it feels like something’s coming.”
They exchange looks, and Connor straightens, his weird mood falling away. “You feel it too?”
Okay, so I’m not imagining it, and I’m not nuts. Good. “I don’t know what I feel. But at this time of year, I should be ranting nonstop about pests in my garden, and there’s nothing. It’s like they’re all hiding out and waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” Gabe affirms. “We thought it was our abilities that let us sense it, but…” He doesn’t need to say I don’t have any metaphysical abilities. We all know it. “We should talk to the others. Maybe some of the day staff too. Let’s see who else can feel it.”
I mentally farewell my plans for a quiet afternoon pottering in the greenhouse. I’ll have plenty of time for that during the winter… if we’re not all demon fodder by then. “I have some time, and I can be subtle.”
“Actually,” Connor interrupts, “could you go into town and ask around there? Especially if you run into any other farmers. I want to know if this is localized to the estate or wider spread.”
I shrug. “Sure. Gives me an excuse to stop in at the bakery.” And Skye’s dad asked me to go by sometime and look at his carrots.
He put in a late crop but is concerned they’re not going to do anything.
Ever since I asked him about the year of asparagus, he’s liked me even more than before.
Which is just as well, since I’m planning to spend my life with his son.
“Great. We’ll split up, talk to as many people as we can without tipping anyone off, and then meet up tonight.” Gabe looks at Connor. “Can you talk Kieran into putting on dinner for us?”
“Probably. I don’t think there are any guests tonight, so the house will be empty once the day staff leave. That means no chefs, though.”
“I’ll pick up pizza in town,” I offer.
“Done. Main dining room, five thirty.”
On my way to town, I hit on the idea of asking for “advice.” People love to give advice, and the locals who loiter at the hardware store especially love it.
I can’t even count the number of times they’ve advised me to buy a tractor for the estate, no matter how often I explain that we’re demonstrating historic farming techniques and that a tractor wouldn’t help with that.
One time they suggested I get a historic tractor.
Not gonna lie, I thought about it. But my mechanical skills are only average, and a hundred-year-old tractor would break down a lot.
Sure enough, there are two older men standing at the counter, talking to Clive.
The one with the long white beard is Frank Murray, who supposedly retired a couple years back but whose son tells me is still trying to run the farm.
The other is Jack Dobbs, who still works his farm even though he should be retired.
I heard none of his kids want it, and he can’t bring himself to sell.
He’ll probably die working the land he loves. Can’t say that sounds all that bad.
I join the group and get gruff up-nods. “Daniel,” Jack says. “Don’t often see you here at this time.”
Shaking my head, I heave a big sigh, then wonder if I’m overplaying it. “I was hoping someone who’s lived here longer than me could help, because…” I shake my head again.
All three of them perk up immediately. “Something wrong?” Clive asks. “It’s not the ghosts, is it?”
I scratch my chin and try to look thoughtfully puzzled. Not sure if I pull it off. “I don’t think so. They like us to know when they’re mad at us. And they’ve never had any effect on the wildlife before. This is just… strange.”
Glances are exchanged. “Wildlife?” Frank’s trying to sound casual, but my gut tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “You been having trouble with pests? Rabbits? Or raccoons?”
I lean forward like I’m going to tell a secret, and they all do too. Man, this is fun. “That’s the thing: I’m not having trouble with pests. There are no pests. My crops and kitchen garden are thriving, and this past week, there’s been no critters at them. Not even bugs. That’s not normal, right?”
Another exchange of glances. “You’re not the only one,” Frank says gruffly. “We were just talking about it. It’s a hinky business, no pests in the crops at this time of year.”
“I still reckon it’s a storm coming,” Jack insists. “My shoulder aches something fierce, and it only does that when we’re in for a helluva storm. Animals see the signs and skedaddle. That’s normal.”
“I been farming here all my life, Jack, and I know how to tell when a storm’s coming. There ain’t no signs for animals to see—and since when do they go to ground more’n a week before the storm, anyway? Sky’s clear as a bell, nothing in the air, and my niece says the radar’s clear too.”
“Not that those weather people know what they’re talking about,” Clive interjects. “But I don’t think it’s a storm either.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, more because I feel like I should than because I want them to answer. I’m pretty sure I know what it is.
Three shrugs. “If it ain’t a storm, I got no clue,” Frank admits. “But it’s something.”
“I guess we should just be glad for the break while we’ve got it,” I concede.
A few more minutes of small talk later, I’m back outside and strolling toward the bakery.
I’ll stop at the grocery store first—Mrs. Heller works the checkout on Mondays, and she’s the world’s biggest gossip.
I’ll get more from talking to her for five minutes than I would if I chatted up twenty other people.
By the time I visit the grocery store and the bakery and am waiting for our pizza to cook, it’s an effort not to look grim.
Safe to say, the whole town is feeling the same sense of impending doom—though of course they don’t all think of it that way.
And according to Jennie, who heard from Lenore, who got it from one of her guests, that feeling isn’t isolated to just this area.
The guy was from Indiana and decided to get away for a few days to “shake a gloomy feeling, but it followed me here anyway.”
A body slips onto the stool beside me. “Daniel?”
I glance over at Skye’s friend Tom, whose family owns this restaurant. “Hey.”
“Mom said you were here. Your order won’t be long. Everything okay at the estate?” His brown eyes search my face. I don’t know him that well, but Skye’s said a few times that we’ll all have to go out for drinks or something. I know they’re close, and any friend of Skye’s is a friend of mine.
“Yeah, all good.” It’s half the truth, right? The estate itself is chugging along just fine.
“Uh-huh. And Skye’s good?” He doesn’t seem convinced.
I grin. “Skye’s amazing.” That’s the complete truth, at least. “Didn’t you guys talk the other night?” I’m sure it was Tom he called while I was washing up the dinner dishes.
“Yeah, but things change. And I’ve got this itchy feeling that something’s going to happen.”
“You’re not alone,” I mutter.
“Since you’re here, though… I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Oh yeah?” I’ve been expecting this. Everyone else has done it, so it’s gotta be Tom’s turn.
“When Skye told me you guys were hooking up, I had some concerns.”
“You and the rest of the town.”
He smirks. “We’re not known for minding our business here. But I wasn’t worried that you’d hurt Skye. You and I don’t know each other well, but Skye talks about you a lot, and from the way you’ve always been with him, I was pretty sure you’d cut off your own balls before hurting him.”
I straighten. Finally someone giving me credit. “Sounds right to me.”
“Even if that meant staying with him when you didn’t want to, and slowly killing all the joy and friendship between you.”
My eyes narrow. “Anybody ever said you can be dramatic?”
“Dude, my family’s Italian. High drama is the norm around here. Don’t change the subject.”
Sighing, I think about what he said. It burns to admit it, but the idea’s valid.
I would do almost anything to keep from hurting Skye, and I felt that way even before things turned into more than friendship.
So maybe in that situation, I would hang on for longer than if it was anyone else…
but eventually, that would hurt Skye too.
“Do you still think I’d do that? Keep Skye on a string even if I didn’t have those feelings anymore, just so I didn’t have to tell him it was over? ”
He tips his head to the side and studies me. “Nah. I still think it would hurt you to do it, but you’d want the best for Skye. Even if that meant causing him short-term pain. What I’m saying is… I had concerns, but from what I’ve heard and how happy Skye is, I don’t anymore.”
Aw. Skye’s friend approves of me!
Leaning close, he adds, “And if it turns out I’m wrong, my uncle has a mincer in his garage.”
I blink. Is he threatening to…? “Why does your uncle have a mincer?” I really want to cross my legs right now. Just in case.
Tom shrugs. “To make sausage.”
That’s not reassuring.
The employee working the counter calls that my order is ready, and we stand. “Skye wants to organize a night out,” I say, deciding to pretend the whole mincer thing never happened.
“Sounds good.” Tom grins at me. “Just keep treating him like you have, and we’ll be good buddies, Daniel.” He claps me on the shoulder and disappears toward the back of the restaurant, leaving me to chuckle and grab my pizzas.