Page 25 of Stone Temptation
“That’s terrible,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It is.”
That reminded me of the recent case of poor Susan Woods, who’d been butchered in the woods beyond the terror house. Tricked by a monster, her dismembered body was left scattered amongst the trees.
Her brain, kidneys, liver, and heart were never found.
Living in this world, we’d all grow accustomed to monsters, gargoyles, and the sounds of the terrors. We’d had to in order to keep on living.
“Excuse me,” the gargoyle said. “Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
I unwrapped another strawberry cream, carrying on with my walk and regretting not taking Tom’s cupcake.
Damn it.
Brinecrest was a bustling seaside town. Great entertainment on the two-mile stretch of seafront. Plenty of restaurants and cafés and amusement arcades. There used to be a pier, but two shark monsters destroyed it as if they were fresh out of a Jaws movie.
Finn and I were set to add another establishment to the town. A chocolate cocktail bar combining his skills as a chocolatier and mine for mixology. We’d found the perfect place on the seafront, until the dream crumbled. The space was now a café.
Tears brimmed in my eyes, heartbreak hurling itself at me. Memories of us holding hands, dancing around the boxes the day we moved from our family home in Bedford to the lighthouse. Ready to take on this town and the world.
One day we’d get that dream back.
I promise, Finn. I promise so damn hard.
Outside a pharmacy, a cloaked figure appeared before me, barnacles smothering the billowing fabric. Its face was hidden within the dark hood. A skeletal hand reached out for me, whispering my name.
Rolling my eyes, I moved on, passing the old chip shop Finn and I used to frequent on Friday nights. It was open twenty-four hours, six days a week, now under care of the former owner’s daughter after he died from cancer a couple of years ago.
I popped my head in. “Hi, Janet.”
“Hello, Luke. After some grub?”
Didn’t take much for me to say yes to food. My stomach growled, strawberry fondant creams not enough to placate it.
“Bag of chips please,” I asked.
She cocked a brow at the cloaked stalker lurking in the doorway behind me. “Friend of yours?”
“Apparently.”
The monster gave up, unable to cross the threshold.
“Creepy,” Janet said, scooping out some chips and filling a paper cone.
“It liked to think so.”
“Had a blob appear here earlier. Reminded me of a sea urchin with ten eyes, but fewer spines. Molly got rid of it.”
Molly was her hot-tempered moth friend—a mote spirit.
“Thank God for Molly. Where is she?” I slid some coins onto the counter.
“Sleeping.” She handed me the open cone of chips.
The aroma of fried potatoes wafted up at me, the sign of a good choice.