"It really takes a lot -especially in our line of work- for me to feel alive, but you do that for me, Vivienne."
When psychically gifted Vivienne Salvatore is forced to flee to London from her home up north, she stumbles upon a "prestigious" agency...
CHAPTER NINETEEN ~ new encounters ~ vivienne salvatore
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It was too late for us to catch the train that night, but the team —much to our dismay— got up extra early the next morning in order to catch the very first one out.
I'm not sure exactly what I had expected to see when we arrived, but it certainly wasn't what I saw:
Public structures —churches, a local bakery, and the sheriff's office— were barricaded with make-shift iron crosses and spikes, dozens of people huddled inside, too afraid to step out despite the daylight.
Many of the other buildings —including most of the houses along the far edge of the village— had been burnt to a crisp, and now stood a great blanket of ash and collapsed scaffolding over the ground.
According to Ashmore, a few children had snuck out of town in search of the 'monster'. They found it —or rather, it found them— and had were chased down by the thing. Somehow, a fire had started. People's homes went up in flames, and the monster ravaged its way through the town, through people.
Dozens were ghost-locked, mostly elders who were far too old to see the spirit and run to safety. Most victims of last night had already been carried away to the nearest hospital, but a few were still here, propped up against a wall or tree, being given shots of adrenaline by a swarm of paramedics.
Those ones likely wouldn't survive.
Children had been orphaned, parents had lost their kids, people had lost their friends. All because some stupid pre-teens were looking for some fun.
They sure weren't having fun now, as the four of them had been dragged off to the sheriff's office and had been scolded by her the entire morning.
The four of us, however, had been stuck talking with Mr Ashmore, who turned out to be the mayor. To be honest, I'm not sure which was worse.
Still in shock from the events of last night, Ashmore couldn't get his story straight. Was it the left or the right side of the village that had burned first? Had the monster come from the North or the West?
He couldn't remember.
"That's alright, sir," Lockwood says. "Take a seat and pour yourself a cup of tea. Thank you for taking the time to speak with us."
"No, I should be thanking the four of you," Ashmore says, voice still quivering. "We've no local agency of our own, and the nearest are charging holiday fees we simply can't afford."
"It's our job, sir," I say. "Take a seat. You've been a great help."
Ashmore gives a small nod and a weak smile before turning around and shuffling his way to a bench and plopping down.
