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He took a deep breath, savoring the crispness of the air. The chilly dampness rejuvenated his lungs. Hugo continued his journey.
He approached the town center. The ornate filigree lamp posts radiated like mini stars in the misting nighttime sky. The exterior of the buildings was bathed in an orangish glow. The interiors were dark. The street was quiet. No signs of life.
Hugo passed a street clock. It was well past midnight. He’d been out on these walks this late before. The familiar stillness of the night. He rather enjoyed it. No one asked him how he was doing. No one talked to him. It was only him and his thoughts. His tormenting thoughts. The thought he had of biting Alice a few minutes prior . . . He winced.
He passed Sylvia’s, the scene where his old life ended, and this new life began. The dark curtains were drawn, no lights from the door. It was empty. He clenched his fists. The images replayed in his mind over and over.
He had grabbed Sebastian’s shirt. It was tight.
Was it tight?
His hand slipped to his vest.
Or did I miss his shirt?
He had a fistful of the vest and pulled.
Did I pull him too far? Did I not pull him far enough?
He stabbed him in the chest. The stake hit something.
Or did I not push hard enough? It all happened so fast.
The memory changed each time it replayed.
He basked in the night sky, choosing not to stand under the awning. Dark clouds rolled past. The mist covered his face. His hair became soaked in small beads like dew on the grass. He closed his eyes.
What do I do now? Please tell me. Please. Help me, Elizabeth.
There was only silence.
He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass door. His solemn face. His rain covered jacket. He pulled back on his upper lip. The sharp fangs were visible in the glass window. He pushed against one fang. Its sharp point pierced his thumb. The drop of blood dripped off his finger as the rain washed his thumb clean. The spot healed quickly. He shoved his hand back into his pocket.
I’m a monster.
He continued, passing a few more buildings. A light turned on behind him. Hugo turned. The distinct warm glow of the interior light illuminated the sidewalk outside. He sniffed. Even in the mist-strewn evening, he could smell it. It pulsed and flowed on the other side of the wall. Someone was in there. He could smell the blood. He turned back.
In the window, a neon sign hung—a hand with an eye in thecenter of the palm. A circle filled with stars and moons surrounded the hand. The pink light was like a beacon beckoning him to enter. An older woman struggled as she carried a cardboard box inside.
Her wild, gray hair was tucked under a grayish-white scarf. She wore a multi-colored, tie-dye billowing dress. Hugo recognized her. It was Madame Sophia, the fortune teller from the fall festival. She set the box on the counter, glimpsing Hugo in the window. She motioned for him to join her inside. Hugo grabbed the handle and entered.
Shelves and counter spaces filled the floor of the shop to create a maze-like path through the space. They were half full of various mystical items—crystal balls, candles, incense, statues of Egyptian goddesses. Overwhelmed, Hugo tried to absorb the sheer multitude of items, even with the barren spaces. It reminded him of their living room. She could have raided their living room and still not filled the space.
Our credit cards will be maxed out when Alice learns of this place.He chuckled.
“A creature of the night, I see,” Madame Sophia said.
“Excuse me?” Hugo asked.
“Out this late in the misty rain . . . Either you really love the night or something must be on your mind.”
“Oh, yeah. Uhh . . . The second, I guess. Needed to clear my head,” Hugo replied.
“Do you know what helps me clear my head? Movement. It really helps to calm the nerves,” she said.
“Is that why you’re here this late?”
“No. No. Heavens, no. I’m running behind schedule. I want to open my shop soon, and I still have to unpack and inventory everything. No rest for the weary.”
