Wickerman Cove

Part 23: Trouble, and Everything Associated

Penny insisted on driving on the way back to town, which was probably fair, since it was her car. Steph spent most of the drive periodically checking herself in the side mirrors, the mirror on the sunshade, and the screen on her phone. The black streak stayed, didn't rub off, and showed no signs of being imaginary.

She checked a couple of selfies from Paris. No black streak. Even the pic she'd sent her mom from the airport didn't have one.

Then spent five minutes Googling whether there was a medical condition that could turn someone's hair black and found out it was probably cancer.

Penny watched her out of the corner of her eye and smiled periodically.

Eventually, Steph slumped back in her chair. "Okay, at some point you're going to tell me what's going on, preferably before the next time someone tries to beat the crap out of me."

Penny gave her an apologetic smile-grimace.

They were coming up on Main Street. Wickerman Cove had come to life now, with tourists drifting between the stores, and a group of old men sitting outside the bar watching the street. People rubbernecked as the hearse came past – more on Penny's side than Steph's, although their main concern was probably the hearse with occult symbols all over the side more than the people riding in it. Renard watched the world pass with the mournful expression of a dog who really wanted to shove his head out of the window and live life.

Mansfield's tree guy had given instructions on where the town's best and brightest were meeting to hear, or at least see, Penny speak: Founders' Hall, a cute, white, shingle building just like all the other cute, white shingle buildings on the street. Unlike the others, it was set back a little, with a white picket fence and semi-tropical plants that Steph wasn't sure should have survived the weird mix of daytime warmth and night-time chill.

Jerry the tree guy came out as they were parking. He'd dressed up since they'd seen him at the range – now he had a dress shirt with no tie, grey slacks and a pair of leather shoes with buckles instead of laces. The most innocuous small town guy anyone had ever seen.

Something moved under his skin. To an extent, it was fine – people were supposed to have things move under their skin: bones, muscles. Not worms. Or tentacles. Or whatever the hell Steph was looking at.

The light changed, and it was gone. She forced herself to look away. It was easy, since Penny was edging the hearse back and forth, manoeuvring it into a mercifully deep parking space.

"You should be able to get into there," Jerry called, hands in his pockets as he watched Penny roll the car to a halt. "They parked hearses up all the time back when this was a church."

A young guy – either early twenties or an older teen – came out of the hall and stood just behind Jerry. He was bulky – muscle, not fat. It wasn't body builder muscle either. Of all things, it made Steph think of raw recruits trying to get into the Marines.

Jerry put an arm around him and semi-shoved him towards the approaching women.

"This is Connor," Jerry said, "he speaks British Sign Language, and he's very generously agreed to translate what Dr Etrange is saying for us today."

Hi Connor, Penny signed, is this too fast?

It was like watching the dawn. Connor's face broke into a smile of relief as he shook his head. No, I was worried, but this should be fine.

* * *

Everything was great, if a little strange. The hall wasn't very big – a stage large enough for a small band, green painted walls and folding chairs on wooden flooring. They squeaked whenever someone moved, but it didn't bother Penny once she was in her flow.