Of Stars And Darkness

Ghosts

My passport had another stamp in it. My phone? 12 text messages and 19 missed calls. Mom must've been losing her mind. Never mind that I maxed out my emergency credit card for the plane ticket. She must've known about that by now.

No bars. No signal. I'd never been so happy not to have cell service. Or more afraid. By the time I'd arrived in Jorvik, the sun had already sunk. Now there was nothing but the inky darkness and a passing street lamp beyond the bus window. Maybe it was just as well, everything was still spinning, pausing only when I rest my head against the glass.

"Fort Pinta!" The driver calls, summoning up the sleep-eyed stragglers. I don't recognize the pale-faced girl in his review mirror, but she grips her bag and wheels it down the aisle just the same.

"Excuse me? H-how do I get to Moorland Stables from here?"

"You're going to head west down this road, pass the lighthouse and the big barn. It'll lead you right into the stable yard." The bus driver says, shifting his ballcap. "Just watch for the old man at the barn. He's the cranky sort."

With his warning in mind, I drag my bag out to the cobbled street, gulping at the sight narrow stone bridge that connects the road to Fort Pinta. No railings, just uneven stones, and a serious drop. "Thank God I'm not going that way," I mutter, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head to shield myself from the mist.

By the time I spy the barn, I'm as wet as a fish. But it's not the damp that makes me curse--it's the gate cutting my path. Since my bag won't fit between the bars I shove it over the low brick wall and hoist myself up.

"What have I got myself into?" I hiss, slipping into a pit of brambles when lights flood across the road.

"Who's out there?! You've got 10 second's to get your trespassing behind off my property! Ten! Nine!"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Grabbing my bag I force myself through the underbrush, aware that the vines are snapping and snagging everything. My pants, my shirt, my hair, my hands. "Eight! Seven! Six!"

The cuts sting and they burn, but I'm more worried about the tall grumpy shadow that's slowly making their way toward me. In this light, I can't tell what's in their hand. Cane? Shotgun? Hell, I don't know! Tearing free, I haul ass down the hill.

"THAT'S RIGHT! YOU BETTER RUN! KEEP OUT AND STAY OUT!"

My lungs feel like they're going to pop, but even so, I find myself holding my breath as a small round light bounces through the haze. A man with a lantern has come to meet me. "Are you Miss Nightroad? Miss Avery Night Road?" 

 He's a portly sort of fellow, but even so, he's tall. The light of the lantern only makes the creases of his square face that much darker. But his eyes are soft and sad things.

"Just...Avery." I manage to say, taking a moment to put my hands on my knees and take a deep breath.

"Right," The man says softly tilting his head at me. "Like we discussed on the phone. No last names." He reminds himself as he lifts the lantern to get a better look at me. "I'm Thomas Moorland. And you, lass, are a mess." Before I can argue, he takes my bag from me. "We'll set you right." He says gently leading me through the iron gates and into a closed courtyard. "Just let me grab the keys to your room."