I was in my van.
“Miss Shelley?” called a voice from outside. “I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s Steve. From the office. You’ve got a phone call.”
I jumped out of bed, opened the door. “A call?” I blinked at the bright morning light, then down at my watch. It was nearly ten. I’d slept in.
“Yes, a woman. She said it’s very important she reach you. Do you want to ride over to the office with me?” he asked. My solar panels were hooked up, the wheels were chocked. It would be faster to go with him than to disconnect.
I slid on my shoes, didn’t bother to brush my hair, just jumped in the four-wheeler next to Steve in my rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants.
Could it be?
Could it be my once-upon-a-time sister?
When we pulled up, I jumped out and nearly ran to the phone, beating Steve into his own office.
“Hello?”
I listened. Turned to Steve, holding the phone out. “No one’s there.”
He frowned at the phone. “Well, there was. It took me a bit to get you, maybe she gave up. Why don’t you sit a minute, have a cuppa coffee? I just made a fresh pot. If it’s important, she’ll call back.”
“Did she give a name? What exactly did she say?”
He shook his head. “No name. But she did say she was family.”
“Family?” A knot formed in my throat.
“She said she was looking for you, needed to talk to you. She knew you were here on the island camping, but she wasn’t sure of the campground.”
“And you told her I was here?”
He nodded. “She told me she was family. And she sounded… well, distressed. Like it was urgent that she reach you. Cell service out here is spotty, so a lot of times we get concerned family members wanting to check in.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee, hands trembling a little. I waited, staring at the black phone on the desk. It did not ring.
Steve made small talk. He asked me how I was liking the island so far, if I’d had a chance to get out on the water yet, reminded me that the campground had kayaks and canoes for rent. I just stared at the phone. At last, my coffee was gone, and I accepted that there would be no call back. I’d missed my chance. Steve offered to give me a ride back across the campground, but I told him the walk would do me good.
As I walked, my brain turned in desperate circles.
My sister had called, so now she knew where I was.
What next?
I needed more coffee. Then I’d sit and look through the monster book. I couldn’t bring myself to open it last night—I’d been too exhausted, and a little too freaked out—so had left it in my backpack with the creepy little doll, deciding I’d look at both with fresh eyes in the light of day. I’d tossed and turned, staring frightened at my backpack half the night, as if the doll might unzip the bag, find its way out, and carry the book over to me.
* * *
A FAMILIAR BLUE pickup was parked next to my van at the campsite.
Shit. Now was not the time for a visit from the constable.
Pete wasn’t in the truck or anywhere around the site.
And the door to the van was open.
Had I left it open in my haste to get to the call? I jogged the last few steps and climbed up into the van.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
He was standing in the back by the bed, holding my digital recorder. “Looking for you.” He smiled sheepishly, set the recorder back on the shelf.
“You just let yourself in?”
“The door was open, and you didn’t answer, so I came in to make sure you were okay.”
“Well, I’m fine,” I said.
He nodded. “Yeah, I see that.”
He stepped forward, his body filling the space. I wasn’t used to having anyone but me in the van. Not ever. There wasn’t room for two people.
I backed out through the open door, clearing the way for him.
“It’s an impressive setup you’ve got there. Perfect for working on the road.”
I said nothing. Then: “Was there a reason you stopped by?” The words came out stonier than I’d meant. His smile faded.
“I talked to the state police this morning,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Lauren Schumacher is still missing,” he said.
“Is that so?”
He nodded. “They’re sending another detective here to town tomorrow morning to interview people. They want to look into this whole Rattling Jane angle.” He looked at me. “They’ll be wanting to talk to you, I’m sure.”
“Me?” I swallowed.
“I think they’d be interested to hear your… theories. Among other things.”
I forced a smile. “I’m happy to share what I’ve got, but I’m afraid it’s not much.”
He paused for a moment. “Tell me honestly, what do you think so far? Do you think there’s anything to all the Rattling Jane stories?”
“The jury’s still out,” I said.
“I don’t know, the idea that there could be any truth to them just seems… unlikely to me.” He looked at me, waiting for a response.
“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem,” I said.
“Isn’t that the truth.” He turned toward his truck.
We’d said our goodbyes and I was climbing into my van when he called my name again. I turned, watched as he took a card out of the front pocket of his shirt and left it on the picnic table. “My number,” he said. “In case you want to talk.”
I closed the door, leaned against it taking deep breaths, listening to him get into his truck and pull away.
Shit.
I put on the kettle, grabbed the jar of instant espresso and my cup. Then, waiting for the water to boil, I grabbed my backpack from where I’d dumped it last night on the floor beside the bed.
I unzipped it, looked inside.
First aid kit. Water bottle. Granola bars. Bug spray.
Panic rising, I turned the bag upside down, dumping everything out.
The monster book was gone.
As was the doll.
And my gun.
THE BOOK OF MONSTERS
By Violet Hildreth and Iris Whose Last Name We Don’t Know Illustrations by Eric Hildreth
1978
CHARMS AND SPELLS TO KEEP YOU SAFE FROM MONSTERS
Monsters cannot cross a circle of salt. Buy a big box of kosher salt. Make lines of it on all the doorways of your house. Make a circle around your bed. Also create a circle of salt anytime you attempt to do any magic, like a binding spell or a spell for seeing monsters.
Other things you can do to protect yourself: Sleep with your windows closed. Block the space under your bedroom door and your keyholes. Hang a cross and cloves of garlic above your bed. Put mirrors all around your room, facing out of your windows.
Make a charm by filling a small sack of cloth with equal amounts of lavender, dill, oregano, and sage. Keep it with you at all times.
Charge a knife by soaking it in salt water on a full moon. Sleep with this knife under your pillow, knowing that if you need to, you can slay a monster.
Vi
July 24, 1978
HOW LONG HAD the Ghoul been there watching?
How much had it seen?
Had it seen the kiss? Had it heard what they were talking about?
Vi’s head raced as she chased it through the trees.
The creature matched Eric’s description exactly: black hood, tall black boots, pale face.
It was just approaching dusk, and Vi knew they didn’t have much time. If they were out in the woods without a flashlight when it got fully dark, they’d never find it. Worse, they might not be able to find their way home.
Worse still, the Ghoul might tire of being chased and turn around and chase them.
Part of Vi worried that they were being led into a trap: that the Ghoul knew just what it was doing, that it had a plan.
Monsters, Vi knew, were clever creatures; some were experienced predators.
They were already far away from any path Vi knew. The sun was down low enough that she couldn’t tell what direction it had set in. She was disoriented. Lost. And the Ghoul was fast. Otherworldly fast.
Vi didn’t have anything to use for a binding spell—no kosher salt, no holy water, no magic words. She didn’t have an amulet of protection or a magic blade.