tried not to think about her dream or her encounter the night before. She’d woken up relatively rested, but feeling keyed up and strange. And she kept expecting to see Anton around every corner, down every street, since she’d left the inn. It was a little too much. She had to get a grip.
After a few hours she went up to the main desk and found the helpful blue-haired girl. Her name was Ellen.
“Ellen?” she asked, smiling.
“Ms. Harlow? Did you find what you needed?” the girl asked, stacking some books on a cart.
“Well, yes and no,” Taylor answered.
“Oh! What couldn’t you find?” asked Ellen, coming over and looking genuinely concerned. Taylor smiled at her again. She remembered being that young and enthusiastic.
“Well, I found journals and articles going a ways back, so thanks for that. What I couldn’t find, though, was any of the stuff on the Deathless Rider that wasn’t kind of the fluffy stuff. I grew up around here, and I know there have been a lot of deaths around this time of year. It seems a little strange no one else has mentioned it in a newspaper article or something,” Taylor said.
Ellen blinked, then looked thoughtful. “That’s a good point. I mean, it’s a silly old story, but it is really creepy. And people around here sort of like to pretend it’s all cuddly, but, like…those recent deaths? That was pretty bad,” she said.
“Do you think they could be in some other files, maybe? Or maybe I’m just looking in the wrong place?” Taylor asked.
“I’m not sure where they could be, though. I mean, that’s supposed to be all the stuff we have. Mrs. Keeper, she scanned them all herself,” Ellen said.
“What, old Mrs. Keeper? She still works here?” Taylor asked, surprised. The lady had seemed ancient when she was growing up. White hair, spectacles, and the required cardigan. She’d even had a shrill little “hussssh!” she used to admonish anyone caught talking in the sanctuary of the library. It had been a popular make out spot when Taylor was young.
“Yeah, she comes in like twice a week now. Can’t get around as much as she used to. She’s mostly retired. But she insisted on doing that job herself,” Ellen said, shuffling some papers.
“Do you know where she lives? I’m working on this book, about the area, and I’d love to talk to someone who’s been around and probably seen more than anyone else. I mean, who notices a librarian?” Taylor said, grinning.
Ellen smiled back, then pointed to her hair. “Well, I get noticed, they call me Blueberry. But I’m just an assistant. You kind of stick out around here if you do anything even remotely ‘different,’” Ellen said, using quote-y fingers.
Taylor started at the nickname, feeling sick. Then she covered it with a laugh. She hadn’t been as brave as Ellen in high school, actually changing her outer appearance in a noticeable way, but she knew what she meant. Even though she’d tried to hide, she just hadn’t fit in it around there. She suspected Ellen didn’t either, though at least now blue hair was not nearly as unusual. But the nickname had been a nasty shock.
“True, but I like it. I’m a writer down in the city and I’m up here doing a little research. Maybe prove to some people that small towns can be just as weird and dangerous as the city, you know?” she said.
“Oh, cool! You’re a writer and you live in the city? Wow,” Ellen asked, eyes wide and eager. Taylor remembered that feeling, too.
“Yep. Although I have still have roommates, so it’s not very glamorous,” she admitted.
“Psh. I’d live in a shoebox there in a heartbeat if it meant I could get out of here.” Ellen snorted.
“Most apartments are kind of like shoeboxes down there,” Taylor said. They both laughed.
“Well, Mrs. Keeper is at the old folks’ home down on Chestwood. I don’t think she gets many visitors. Most of her family is gone, I think. So I’m sure she’d like the company. She’s
After a few hours she went up to the main desk and found the helpful blue-haired girl. Her name was Ellen.
“Ellen?” she asked, smiling.
“Ms. Harlow? Did you find what you needed?” the girl asked, stacking some books on a cart.
“Well, yes and no,” Taylor answered.
“Oh! What couldn’t you find?” asked Ellen, coming over and looking genuinely concerned. Taylor smiled at her again. She remembered being that young and enthusiastic.
“Well, I found journals and articles going a ways back, so thanks for that. What I couldn’t find, though, was any of the stuff on the Deathless Rider that wasn’t kind of the fluffy stuff. I grew up around here, and I know there have been a lot of deaths around this time of year. It seems a little strange no one else has mentioned it in a newspaper article or something,” Taylor said.
Ellen blinked, then looked thoughtful. “That’s a good point. I mean, it’s a silly old story, but it is really creepy. And people around here sort of like to pretend it’s all cuddly, but, like…those recent deaths? That was pretty bad,” she said.
“Do you think they could be in some other files, maybe? Or maybe I’m just looking in the wrong place?” Taylor asked.
“I’m not sure where they could be, though. I mean, that’s supposed to be all the stuff we have. Mrs. Keeper, she scanned them all herself,” Ellen said.
“What, old Mrs. Keeper? She still works here?” Taylor asked, surprised. The lady had seemed ancient when she was growing up. White hair, spectacles, and the required cardigan. She’d even had a shrill little “hussssh!” she used to admonish anyone caught talking in the sanctuary of the library. It had been a popular make out spot when Taylor was young.
“Yeah, she comes in like twice a week now. Can’t get around as much as she used to. She’s mostly retired. But she insisted on doing that job herself,” Ellen said, shuffling some papers.
“Do you know where she lives? I’m working on this book, about the area, and I’d love to talk to someone who’s been around and probably seen more than anyone else. I mean, who notices a librarian?” Taylor said, grinning.
Ellen smiled back, then pointed to her hair. “Well, I get noticed, they call me Blueberry. But I’m just an assistant. You kind of stick out around here if you do anything even remotely ‘different,’” Ellen said, using quote-y fingers.
Taylor started at the nickname, feeling sick. Then she covered it with a laugh. She hadn’t been as brave as Ellen in high school, actually changing her outer appearance in a noticeable way, but she knew what she meant. Even though she’d tried to hide, she just hadn’t fit in it around there. She suspected Ellen didn’t either, though at least now blue hair was not nearly as unusual. But the nickname had been a nasty shock.
“True, but I like it. I’m a writer down in the city and I’m up here doing a little research. Maybe prove to some people that small towns can be just as weird and dangerous as the city, you know?” she said.
“Oh, cool! You’re a writer and you live in the city? Wow,” Ellen asked, eyes wide and eager. Taylor remembered that feeling, too.
“Yep. Although I have still have roommates, so it’s not very glamorous,” she admitted.
“Psh. I’d live in a shoebox there in a heartbeat if it meant I could get out of here.” Ellen snorted.
“Most apartments are kind of like shoeboxes down there,” Taylor said. They both laughed.
“Well, Mrs. Keeper is at the old folks’ home down on Chestwood. I don’t think she gets many visitors. Most of her family is gone, I think. So I’m sure she’d like the company. She’s
Similar Books
