Ghosts of Averoigne

“What’s wrong?”

“See him?” asked Kara

“The guy, yeah.”

&

nbsp; “Isn’t he…”

“Blurry?”

Jeremy held up the photo to her. Somehow it had reverted back to its original depiction.

“But… but that’s not what I saw.”

He seemed confused at her words, but not disbelieving. He turned the photo around so that it faced him again. “Well, what did you see?”

“I… I saw the guy,” Kara said. “Victor Walcott. And he— he—”

Just then the librarian stepped into their little area. She moved like a ninja, startling them both. When she saw the mess they’d made so far she shook her head disapprovingly.

“Time to leave,” she said, a note of concern in her voice. “Storm’s back, and everything in town is shutting down.”

Thirty-One

It took Jeremy and Kara only a quick glance out the front doors of the library to realize something right away:

Neither of them were going anywhere.

The storm had returned, and with an all new vengeance. Impenetrable sheets of snow came down thick and fast, so hard it was blowing sideways. The roads were no longer visible. Everything beyond the light of the parking lot overheads was white against inky darkness.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come down sooner,” the librarian apologized. “I… well… I kind of forgot you were still here.”

In the end it was all their own fault and Kara knew it. She still put most of the blame on Jeremy though. He called his driver but couldn’t get a connection. Kara’s phone didn’t have cell service at all.

“What the hell are we going to do now?” she demanded.

The librarian herself actually lived on the premises, in a detached living quarters original to the building. She offered them her living room floor to sleep on. Politely, they turned her down.

“Could we make the Averoigne?” Kara asked. It was funny how eager she’d been to be away from the old hotel, and now she couldn’t wait to get back. “You said it was only a mile, right?”

“No way,” said Jeremy. “With the wind chill temperatures in the single digits? We’d freeze to death. Or get disorientated and become lost. Or get plowed into a snowbank, or—”

“Okay, okay,” Kara surrendered. She put her hands up. “I get the picture.”

“I could let you stay here,” she said. “In the building. Heat’s off, though. It’s on a timer.”

Kara shuddered violently.

“Your only other choice would be The Donnelly,” the librarian shrugged. She pointed into the wind. “It’s not too far in that direction, just across the road. If they’re not filled up they might have a bed for you.”

It took only five minutes, but it seemed like an hour.

Together, holding hands, Kara and Jeremy slogged across the snow. The crossed through the knee-deep drifts of the parking lot, past the lower expanse of the semi-plowed road. During their trek, the wind ripped at them. It found every exposed nook and cranny, sending icy chills beneath their clothing wherever it could.

It was Jeremy who saw it first; a small light in the distance, muted yellow. They pushed on toward it, knowing that if it wasn’t their target they’d have to surely turn back. They couldn’t risk losing their rapidly disappearing footprints.

Kara didn’t relish the thought of backtracking to the library, of sleeping on the cold hard floor. But the light grew brighter and an outline formed. Her frozen body warmed with relief as a sign came into view: