Audra North Second Chance (epub)

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.It was cold, too.The heating system hadn’t been extended to the attic when the library had last been renovated, about thirty years before.The former librarian had maintained the archives on the floor below, unwilling to open up the rooms for use by the community.She hadn’t been what one might call a people person.Marnie trailed a finger along the shelves, idly thinking to herself that she really needed to conduct a fundraiser to get someone to digitize the collection of old periodicals and journals before they all crumbled to dust.“There you are,” she murmured, as The Wilford Leader appeared under her finger.Back issues were bound in large booklets, with several issues glued into the big bindings.She searched the spines, moving all the way to the end of the shelf.There it was.Volume one.Marnie slid the book out of its place and began walking back toward the door at the top of the stairs.But just as she reached the first step, a loud THUMP sounded behind her, and Marnie froze, journal in hand.What in the world was that?She turned back slowly, looking around the room.The dust mites were stirring wildly in the air, as though someone had just walked through the room on the opposite side.But there was no reason they should be moving so wildly, at least not so far away from where she stood.A chill zipped up her spine.Probably just another Wilford Ledger volume, sliding and bumping against the wall now that you’ve removed one of the volumes.But she could see the shelf from here, and nothing was out of place.Nothing that would have made such a loud noise.Marnie let out a nervous laugh, the sound brittle and small as it wafted up to the rafters.She turned to switch off the light and go back down the stairs, wanting as much to pretend that nothing had happened as she wanted to get the heck out of there, but just at that moment, she saw it.A small door—one that she’d never noticed before—had popped open.Set under the eaves and integrated into the wood paneling, she could understand why it had never caught her eye the other times she’d come up here.There was no handle, and the hinges were set on the inside.Closed, it would have been invisible unless someone was looking very closely.Was that what she’d heard? The door popping open? Maybe the vibrations of her footsteps on the plank flooring had finally worked it loose.She took a tentative step toward it, praying that nothing would come jumping out and attack her.But nothing did.She could see something just inside the little door.Shelves.Almost as though this had been a cupboard of some sort.She gently pulled the door all the way open.A wooden box sat inside, just on top of the shelf.She pulled it slowly, brushing dust off the top and feeling the etched surface as she did.In the dim light, she could make out a delicate scrollwork pattern covering the top, encircling a set of initials.H.M.C.A small clasp was set along one edge, easy enough to pop, and she began to lift the lid, catching a glimpse of a photo of—“What did you think of my trick earlier?” A man’s voice echoed in the small room, making her yelp and drop the box.She whipped her head up to the doorway, expecting to see Mike there.But there was no one.Her heart beat wildly.Had she just imagined that voice? Why would her mind make up words like that, even, that made no sense?She waited a minute longer, frozen in fear, but the room was silent and nothing else happened.Jeez.She must just be exhausted to the point of hallucinating.Maybe she would close up early, after all, even if just a few minutes.She let out a long breath and muttered, “You’re really, truly going crazy.”“Oh, now, that’s not fair.Just because of my, um, delicate condition, you don’t have to go around declaring that I’m insane.”The voice.It had come from behind her, from the far, dark corner of the attic, where there was nothing but shelves of books and exposed beams and old pine flooring.No door.No window.Had someone snuck in here yesterday and stayed all night, hiding away? Was she about to be attacked by some lunatic who referred to himself as having a delicate condition? A mental one? She tried to scream, but her breath was caught in her chest, her heart thumping too fast for her to do much more than gasp for air.OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.Please.Please don’t hurt me, she wanted to cry, but it was hard enough just to remember to breathe as she slowly pivoted, rising to her feet at the same time that she turned to face whoever was trespassing, preparing herself to see any manner of man.But what she saw was nothing she could have predicted.A shadowy figure, suspended from nothing, floated halfway between the suspended bulb and the floor by the shelves where she’d just pulled out the volume of old newspapers.Most of him had a strange, translucent quality, as though he were made of wax paper.Except his feet, which were—Holy Mother of God.She could see right through them.The blood rushed from Marnie’s head and the only thing her brain could think to do at that moment was to—“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!” The scream was loud, high-pitched, and punctuated by wild flailing.She managed to stub her toe on the wooden box that she’d left on the floor, but that didn’t stop her from racing toward the door, trying to get away from whatever the hell kind of nightmare—daymare?—her brain was inflicting on her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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