Born into the lap of luxury and a time of turmoil, Duchesse Eleonore Vigneron experiences her coming of age in the Court of Louis XVI . Embroiled in the chaos that surrounds Versailles, Eleni uses her unique blend of wit, charm, and beauty to ensure...
"Not all who wander are lost."--- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord Of The Rings
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There were those who entered Aubrey Parish with enough trumpets and fanfare to call the attention of the entire town. There were others who simply walked in with a pair of dusty sandals and a duffel bag, planning to figure it out when they got there. Until the arrival of Bryn Aeron, no one had ever tried to enter the Parish coming from the wrong direction.
Aubrey Parish was a simple place, with one somewhat paved dirt road leading into town, and the same one leading back out. Judging by the number of vehicles that were randomly parked on what was once grass and tumbleweeds, but had been rolled over enough times to now be called "the parking lot", there wasn't an awful lot of leaving.
That was exactly what brought Bryn to town, the rumour of a place no one ever left behind. For years, he'd been living in a series of run-down motels and the backseat of his trusty old sedan, which appeared to be half as old as he was and made an annoying clunking sound before sputtering helplessly on confusing terrain. The car had served him faithfully, so much so he had given it a name. He wouldn't go around telling people that, but he had a soft spot for the run-down old car, even if he could afford a new one. Bryn wasn't the sort to replace things just because he could.
Once a successful private investigator, he quickly grew bored chasing cheating spouses, biological parents gone AWOL, and evidence of who was blackmailing who and getting away with it. The problems of most people in the world were trivial and repetitive, and though Bryn Aeron was a talented investigator, his passion for solving mysteries went largely unfulfilled.
He didn't remember how it started, but he started to watch mysteries and documentaries on whatever channels the crappy hotel rooms had that weren't news, weather, or porn. Those who didn't care much about those three things, and Bryn did not, were often bored at midnight.
The Southeastern part of the United States was rich in legend and mystery. That was to say, the people who called that part of the world home were obsessed with ghost stories. Mostly everything had a legend attached, and no shortage of people willing to tell you the sordid story.
Driving through countless cities and towns with only a gas pump and a diner taught him everything was haunted, magic was real, and there were all kinds of monsters that lurked in the dark. Some wanted your soul, some your body, others your blood, and still others were cute, furry animals that worshiped the moon and would kill you if they hear your footsteps. It was unusually disturbing advice from people who lived in a world where imagination was alive and well. Between haunted attractions, there was invariably a church to offer sanctuary from the unholy ways of the world.
Bryn Aeron chose the monsters.
He ditched his suit and tie for a comfortable pair of jeans and lived the life of a drifter. Despite that, he was still digniified, well-groomed, and had enough money to afford the necessities. Bryn wasn't mistaken for a hobo or for anyone who belonged in the world he had taken it upon himself to study, but he had an amiable nature and handsome face that convinced people to talk to him. Even when he slid on a pair of elbow-length black leather gloves and black leather jacket to avoid touching anything that shouldn't be touched, nothing about him was intimidating. He rarely was the bad-ass cliche of a private investigator, not unless he needed to be.
