“I always carry a case,” he said, reaching in the back. He cracked a bottle open then handed it to me.
I drank deep, then replaced the cap. As I stared up at the building, I shook my head. “Whatever is in there, it’s not friendly.”
“Whatever’s in there is downright dangerous. Then again, the place did house a number of the criminally insane, so you have to figure on both danger and instability,” Killian said, producing a bag of M&Ms from his pocket. “Here, you want some?”
I nodded, holding out my hand as he opened the bag and poured some of the candy into my palm. “Do you think that insanity lasts beyond death?”
“What do you mean?”
“I never thought about this before, but if someone is mentally disturbed while they are alive, does that continue into the afterlife?” I frowned and began picking out the red candies first.
He watched me for a moment. “You color coordinate your M&Ms, don’t you? You eat from the most to the least?”
I stared down at my hand and then nodded. “Actually, I do. I always eat the color I have the most of first. It’s been something I’ve done since childhood. I don’t even think about it, though. Not anymore.”
“As far as your question goes…I’m not sure. I don’t think there have been any studies done on the situation, and it would be hard to find any definitive studies. First, you’d have to find ghosts that were willing to talk, then you’d have to find records of what they were like during life, and then you’d have to figure out if they were just messing with you or not. Some ghosts do that.”
I let out a sigh, finishing the candy. He replenished it without asking. “Yeah, I guess that’s one of the questions we’ll never really know the answer to. Plus, we have no idea if the process of dying can trigger psychosis. Some spirits seem calm and happy, some pass on, but others are angry and violent.”
I paused, then—breathing easier—added, “Thank you so much for coming out here with me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t do any research before showing up here. I’m not certain what I hoped to uncover. I guess I am learning on the job, as you put it.” I laughed, finishing the M&Ms in my hand. “So, not to bring up an embarrassing subject, but you weren’t going to kill that little mouse, were you?”
He cocked his head, looking puzzled, then laughed. “No, I wasn’t. I just…when I’m in my wolf form, I like to play and the mouse…well…it’s fun to chase. But don’t fret about it. I’ll refrain from chasing mice into your yard.”
The light dancing in his eyes hit me again. I licked my lips, then glanced at the clock on the car. “I suppose I’d better get to my meeting. So, um, you’re still going to the carnival, aren’t you, even though I dragged you out here to the haunted hospital from hell?”
“Count on it,” he said, walking me back to my car. He waited until I was safely inside and halfway down the drive before he followed me to the main road. As I turned back toward town, he gave me one last wave and headed in the other direction.
The Garrison Library was downtown, in the same building as the police station, the courthouse, the main fire station, the jail, town hall, and the public works department. City Central, as it was called, took up an entire block, but it made life easy if you had business to attend to with the town. It was across from Bayside Park, which was next to the town square. The park also bordered the marina, so you could walk around the edge of the park to get to the docks.
Downtown Moonshadow Bay was absolutely beautiful. The massive spruce was covered in snow, and while during the day the decorations didn’t show that well, it was still amazing and festive. With the skiff of snow covering everything, the downtown area put even the prettiest winter wonderland picture to shame.
A large parking lot in back of City Central offered plenty of parking, including handicap parking and easy-access ramps. I eased into an open spot close to the building—the weather was ramping up for a good blow—and, grabbing my purse, headed up the back steps.
I still hurt from being body-slammed by whatever ghost had attacked me, but the attack notwithstanding, I was happy. For the first time in months, I was doing something interesting, something that felt important, and I wasn’t being scrutinized by Ellison.
The Garrison Library had been named after Nell Garrison, one of the founding mothers of the city, who—along with my great-grandparents—had held a vision for what they wanted Moonshadow Bay to become. Born to another family of witches, Nell had been a huge proponent of education and while she had died without having children, she had willed all her goods and money to the city for use in the schools and to expand the library.
City Central was built of red brick, and when the town had annexed the entire block back in the 1950s, they had the foresight to build the complex solidly. Of course, since then it had been retrofitted for earthquakes, but overall, it was still in as good a condition as it had been the day it first opened.
Inside, the walls were a warm gray, and the floors had been fitted with a sound-muting laminate, which meant that besides never getting scuffed up, it muffled footsteps and kept the building pleasantly quiet. The ceilings were high—almost cathedral like—and the lighting was LED but not obnoxiously bright. It was actually like a mini-mall, only the businesses weren’t selling so much as providing professional services. The jail was on the opposite end of the library, along with the firehouse.
I pushed open the double doors to the library and took a deep breath. I read on an e-reader, mostly, but I still loved the smell of ink and dust, and that hallowed silence that all libraries seemed to have.
As I entered the main floor—the library was the only building within City Central that was two-storied—I decided the best place to go was the customer service desk. As I waited my turn in line, I glanced at the shelves and shelves of books. The tables were beginning to fill up with kids as they got out of school and came in to study. When I was young, I would occasionally cut classes to hang out in the library. My mother knew I did it, but my grades were never a worry so she never said anything, just now and then reminded me that I didn’t want to get expelled or suspended for being a no-show.
Moving to the head of the line, I asked the librarian, “I’m looking for Charles Crichton. His office is supposed to be in the library, so can you point me in his direction?”
“Oh, Charles? He’s on the second floor, in back of the travel section. You just take the stairs or elevator, and follow the green arrows on the wall toward the back. His name is on his office door, near the restrooms and water fountains.” She picked up her phone. “May I tell him who’s on the way up?”
“January Jaxson. I have a three o’clock appointment.” I thanked her and took the elevator, deciding my hip was sore enough from slamming into the wall that I really didn’t want to add to it by climbing a flight of stairs.
Sure enough, the green arrows led to Crichton’s office. I stopped to use the restroom and wash my hands and face and make sure I looked presentable. Then, draping my coat over my arm, I tapped on his door and entered when I heard the faint “Come in.”
“Hi, I’m January Jaxson. I have an appointment with you? I know I’m a few minutes early, but…”