It's fate that they found each other. Indigos are naturally drawn to one another through the threads of destiny. And for Hemlock Godfree, that's exactly what he is... an Indigo. Even if he doesn't know it yet. As a part time ghost hunter and full ti...
The steam rolling off Tober's coffee cup twisted and swirled in the crisp autumn night air. The stars speckled the sky like paint flicked off the edge of a brush. She nestled under a wool blanket on the Howling Lodge porch swing while sipping the coffee that she made in the Lodge's kitchen. On her knees she balanced a small plate of birthday cake and read a mystery novel she had found in her backpack. Her deep brown eyes scanned its pages but soon they stared off into the distance, losing interest. She ate another piece of cake; pumpkin spice and chocolate swirled with bright orange buttercream and spooky bats made with black icing, something Brigid made for her every Halloween on her birthday. What a way to spend a birthday... but Tober didn't mind, she had agreed to this. The night before, she and Brigid had carved pumpkins, watched their favorite horror movies, and ate mountains of sweets. Plus, she preferred to be here in Howling on her birthday. The only thing she hated now was that she was alone. And Tober hated being alone on Halloween... but not because of the solitude, but rather because of the relentless spirits that flowed through the veil to find her and chat. Sometimes they were friendly, and other times they wanted nothing more than to make you suffer for crossing their path. Should I have followed Brigid? Tucking a stray of licorice colored hair behind her ear, Tober stuffed the book back into her bag and tightened the blanket around herself, staring out at the woodlands surrounding the Lodge.
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Tonight, she saw an old friend... Story. The last time she had seen Story was years ago, when Tober had been nothing but a child. Story had also been a child; a small, terrifyingly wise child. But somehow, Story's demeanor hadn't changed since Tober had last seen them. She thought about Brigid and wondered if she should've mentioned Story to her. Story had appeared during a dark time in Tober's life... a time that Tober tried to forget. To this day, the overwhelming scent of chokecherry blossoms still made her throat swell with post traumatic stress. Shuttering, she gulped down a sip of the burning hot coffee and coughed. This group of people that Brigid had invited... They were weird. They gave off an energy that made Tober both scared and intrigued at the same time, mostly because it was so goddamn familiar. It was as if she had known these people all her life, however, she had no idea who they were. She knew Brigid spoke highly of them, especially the days after their initial investigation of the ghost town. Brigid had ranted on and on about the mysterious group of guys who had come and brought excitement with them. Brigid even said that she felt her "witchy" senses tingling whenever they were around. Tober chuckled and set down her cup on the wooden post that enclosed the wraparound porch, taking another bite of cake. The steam from the mug twirled away on the wind, and she flipped her fingertips over it, warming them from its heat.
Tober wanted to feel that same feeling when she met them, but instead... they seemed almost too good to be true. She had always had a talent for reading people, it was like second nature to her. Hemlock, the tall man with the dark hair and pale olive skin had really given Tober the heebie-jeebies. There had been something attached onto him... something shadowy and menacing, yet, it seemed like a reflection of himself, or at least someone from his past. Had no one else sensed it? She remembered him briefly, almost a week ago, hanging out in the Half Moon cemetery. She had never asked for his name, but then again, she hadn't really cared. If she had known he was one of the men Brigid had dreamed about, well maybe she would have been more empathetic. Even then, she had seen the menace attached to his soul... and assumed he had been in the cemetery up to no good. What would've happened if she had let him stay and finish whatever the hell he was doing that night? The dismal, almost depressed gaze he had back then made Tober wonder if she should've contacted someone for help... But sometimes, it was hard for her to soften to strangers; most of the time, strangers were unkind to her, and so she had learned to not involve herself where help wasn't asked for.
