The Birch House

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It occurred to me that I'd be smart to know what Blake Clark looked like, in order to avoid him, but I had the strong feeling that it wouldnt be a very good idea to ask Alyssa for a peek at the family album. Alyssa was pretty touchy just now about anything to do with her brother... which, if Chase's pessimistic assessment was right, probably wasn't the wrong attitude.

So I went researching. Not the university library, which - while not too bad - didn't really have a lot of info about Mystic itself. I'd checked. There was some history, all carefully blanded down, and some newspaper archives.

But there was a Mystic Historical Society. I found the address in the phone book, studied the map, and calculated the time it would take to walk the distance. If I hustled, I could get there, find what I needed, and still make it to her noon class.

I showered, dressed in blue jeans and a black knit top with a screen-printed flower on it - one of my thrift-shop buys - and grabbed my backpack on the way to the door. I set myself a blistering pace once I hit the sidewalks, heading away from the university and into the unexplored guts of Mystic. I had the map with me, which was handy, because as soon as I was out of sight of the Birch House, things became confusing. For having been master planned, Mystic was not exactly logical in the way its streets ran. There were culs-de-sac, dead ends, lots of unlit deserted areas.
But then again, maybe that was logical, from a vampires planning perspective. Even in the hot beat of the sunlight, I shuddered at that idea, and moved faster past a street that ended in a deserted field littered with piled-up lumber and assorted junk. It even smelled like decay, the ugly smell of dead things left to rot in the heat. Having too much imagination was sometimes a handicap. At least I'm not walking it at night.

No power on earth was going to make me do that.

The residential areas of Mystic were old, mostly run-down, parched and beaten by summer. It was bound to get cooler soon, but for now, Indian summer was broiling the Texas landscape. Cicadas sang in dull dental-drill whines in the grass and trees, and there was a smell of dust and hot metal in the wind. Of all the places to find vampires, this was pretty much the last I would have expected. Just not... Goth enough. Too run-down. Too... American.

The next street was my turn, according to the map. I made it, stopped in the shade of a live oak tree, and took a couple of drinks from my water bottle as I considered how much longer a walk it would be. Not long, I thought. Which was good, because I was not going to miss another class. Ever.

The street dead-ended. I came to a stop, frowning, and checked; nope, according to the map, it went all the way through. I sighed in frustration and started to turn back to retrace my path, then hesitated when I saw a narrow passage between two fences. It looked like it went through to the next street.

Lose ten minutes or take a chance.

I'd always been the lose-ten-minutes kind of girl, the prudent one, but maybe living in the Birck House had corrupted me. Besides, it was hot as hell out here.

I headed for the gap between the fences.

"I wouldn't do that, child," said a voice. It was coming from the deep shadow of a porch, on a house to my right. It looked better cared for than most houses in Mystic... freshly painted in a light sea blue, some brick trim, a neatly kept yard. I squinted and shaded my eyes, and finally saw a tiny birdlike old lady seated on a porch swing. She was as brown as a twig, with drifting pale hair like dandelion fuzz, and since she was dressed in a soft green sundress that hung on her like a bag, she looked like nothing so much as a wood spirit, something out of the old, old storybooks.