Ghosts of Averoigne

“Got him!”

Kara hurried over, if for no other reason than to increase her circulation. She glanced up as she walked. The tiny windows that peered outside were dark now. She had no idea what time it was.

“Victor Walcott wasn’t a farmer,” Jeremy was saying. “He was the son of a alchemist, who inherited the farm from his parents.”

“An alchemist?” Kara asked.

“Yes, someone who makes—”

“I know what an alchemist is,” she laughed. “Come on Jeremy. It hasn’t been that long since you knew me.”

He stopped, and for a moment he devoted his attention solely on her. His eyes locked onto hers, and Kara felt an old familiar tingle along the nape of her neck.

Uh oh.

The tingle had nothing to do with her retrocognition. It had everything to do with the way she originally fell for Jeremy. How she’d initially been attracted by his purity. His innocence. His blind devotion to the Order, coupled with his drive to do things first and then analyze them later.

Kind of like me, thought Kara. In a way, you’re exactly like that.

It also helped that he was beyond nerdy cute. Handsome in ways that didn’t make sense. He reminded her of when Hollywood would cast a beautiful actor to play a geeky part, but make the character way too good-looking to be believable.

“So…” she shivered. “Alchemy. Got it.” She clasped her own arms. “Can we go now?”

“Soon,” said Jeremy. He reached out and handed her a couple of black and white photographs. “Here. Look at these.”

Kara did. They all depicted the same thing: an old, low-slung house against a featureless horizon. In the third photo, a man stood off to one side. He was slightly hunched, his features blurred as if the photo was taken while he was moving.

“That him?” she asked.

“I think so.”

Kara flipped through the photos again, giving them a second pass. This time she noticed a stacked stone wall, curving around the side of the house.

“This is definitely it,” she announced. “See this wall? It’s still a part of the hotel. I’ve seen photos of the Averoigne during the summer, and this wall is definitely in them.”

Jeremy took the photo from her to study it. As she did, the last photo came into view again…

But the man in the photo had moved.

“Uh….”

“What?”

Kara blinked, staring down in disbelief. The man off to the side of the house was now in front of it. And instead of showing up all blurred and out of focus, he was crystal clear.

The image frightened her. Victor Walcott had his head down, his chin scrunched to his chest. But he was looking up, through the tops of his eyes. Looking out, through the photo, straight at the person holding it.

Straight at her.

“D— Did you see this?” Kara stammered.

Jeremy was preoccupied, still busy peering at the other photo she’d just handed him. But try as she might, Kara couldn’t look away. Her blood ran cold.

Look at him! He’s so furious…

It was the only way to describe it: an undeniable, unquenchable wrath. The man looking out from the photo had a dark, ominous expression. He looked so real — like a living creature — staring out at her through time. Seeing her. Loathing her…

Jeremy’s fingers pinched the photo and took it abruptly from her field of vision. Kara blinked, waiting on his reaction.