The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Thirty Five - Final Chapter!

 

I was led - guided, really - through a sequence of archways and narrow corridors until the space opened into something more intimate than the grand halls I had first woken in. This inner chamber felt like the heart of the villa: tall but enclosed, the walls covered in frescoes of gods and nymphs frozen in moments of motion, their painted eyes following me no matter where I stood. Sunlight filtered down through a high, latticed opening, turning the dust in the air into drifting gold.

 

I stood alone in the middle of it, barefoot on warm stone, my red silk tunic whispering against my thighs every time I shifted. The fabric was scandalously thin and cut far lower than anything I would ever have chosen for myself, exposing a deep V of skin that made me acutely aware of how vulnerable I was. The steel collar sat at my throat like a brand, cool and unyielding, a constant reminder that whatever this place was, I was not free in it.

 

My heart thudded painfully as I waited. I didn’t know what I was waiting for, only that something was coming.

 

Then music burst into the room, accompanied by a swirl of disco ballroom lights.

 

Dance, Boogie Wonderland, hey, hey

Dance, Boogie Wonderland

 

Not flutes. Not lyres. Not anything that belonged to this ancient, marble-and-mosaic world.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Thirty Four

 

The woman with the whip stepped forward, her presence suddenly overwhelming in the chamber. With a flick of her wrist, the coil of the whip unravelled, until the end trailed across the floor. I felt a shiver travel down my spine as her shadow fell across me. Her dark eyes appraised me coolly, and I understood, instinctively, that what she said next was not a request.

 

“Kneel,” she commanded. “Nadu. Let us see how your muscle memory is.” I sank to my knees on the polished mosaic floor, the red silk tunic sliding slightly against my bare legs, the steel collar pressing uncomfortably at my throat. My hands rested lightly on my thighs, though every instinct in me bristled against the submission I was being forced into. To my surprise my posture seemed instinctive, as if I had knelt like this many times before. I felt my knees close tightly together as I was in the vicinity of a woman. A curious thought at the back of my mind made me think the posture might be very different if I knelt before a man.

 

“It’s strangely instinctive, isn’t it, Ashlee? The way your body understands a word you couldn’t define to me.”

 

I suddenly realised I didn’t know what nadu meant – though there was a vague sensation I’d come across the word before - but I was kneeling instinctively on my heels, my back straight, hands on my thighs, my head up, and my knees pressed tightly together. 

 

She circled me slowly, heels clicking softly against the stone, the whip trailing loosely from her right hand. Her gaze was meticulous, taking in every detail - the way I held myself, the curve of my shoulders, the line of my neck, even the nervous tremor of my hands.

 

“You are a curvaceous thing,” she said finally, almost to herself, as though cataloguing me in her mind. “Eyes alert, hair full, skin soft… posture promising.” Her voice was cold, clinical, as though she were appraising an object rather than a person. “No wonder he lusts after you. You filthy little slut.”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Thirty Three

 

The gravel crunched under the tires as Martin pulled into the small lay-by, the car settling with a soft rock as it came to rest. We were deep in the woods now. Tall pines and bare-limbed maples crowded close to the road, their trunks dark with last night’s rain, their leaves turning the ground into a thick, copper-coloured carpet. The air smelled of wet bark and moss and something faintly sweet, like rot beginning to turn back into soil.

 

Martin switched off the engine and stretched, rolling his shoulders. “God, that feels better. My back was starting to complain.”

 

I opened my door more slowly, careful of the dress and of what was hidden beneath it. The petticoat whispered softly as I stepped out. The Glock tugged slightly at the tape on my thigh, a small, constant reminder that this moment was not just another stop on a road trip.

 

“Nice spot,” Martin said, glancing around. “Kind of peaceful, right? You’d never know Dunwich was just a few miles back.”

 

I nodded. “It’s… quiet.”

 

“Exactly,” he said. “Sometimes I think I could just live somewhere like this. Away from everything. No noise, no crowds.” He smiled at me. “Just you, me, and a lot of trees.”

 

I forced a faint smile, then gestured vaguely into the woods. “I’ll just go a bit further in. You know. Privacy.”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Thirty Two

 

I sat in the chair by the motel window with the lights turned off, my knees drawn up beneath the spread of my dress, the rain ticking softly against the glass like fingertips. The room smelled faintly of damp carpet and cheap soap. The neon sign outside bled a dull red glow through the curtains, painting slow-moving shadows across the walls.

Martin slept in the bed.

 

He lay on his back, one arm flung out over the pillow, his chest rising and falling in an easy, untroubled rhythm. He looked peaceful, almost boyish in sleep. As if nothing in the world could trouble him. As if he had not been the centre of something dark and carefully constructed.

 

The car keys were back where they had been, on the small table near the door. I had put them there with shaking fingers, arranging them exactly as I had found them, like returning a piece of a crime scene so no one would know it had been disturbed.

 

Beneath the powder‑blue dress and its soft bow, beneath the ridiculous, rustling layers of my petticoat, the Glock was taped flat against my outside right thigh with black gaffer tape. It pulled slightly when I shifted, a tight, grounding pressure that reminded me it was there. The petticoat was bulky enough to blur its outline completely, the fabric falling in forgiving folds that hid the hard geometry of the weapon. From the outside I probably looked like nothing more than a nervous girl sitting in a chair.

But I was armed.

 

The knowledge made my skin prickle.

 

I wondered if he would notice the keys had been moved.

 

I wondered if he already knew.

 

Has he always been part of it?

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Thirty One

 

The classic movie line, “Now I have a machine gun, ho-ho-ho,” came to mind as I glanced to my left and right, checking that the streets of Dunwich were still empty, which they were. The weight of the Glock 19M in my hands steadied me in a way nothing else had all night. Rain tapped softly against the roof of the car as I drew the weapon into the pool of the interior light, my fingers moving with a confidence that felt older than memory. I didn’t have to think about what I was doing. My hands simply knew. I went through the motions I had repeated a thousand times before — the ritual of safety, of certainty — checking, confirming, rechecking. I felt the familiar resistance, the mechanical precision, the subtle click and tension that told me the gun was exactly what it appeared to be. Solid. Real. Not a prop. Not a trick.

 

The magazine came free into my palm, heavy with weight. Too heavy. I tilted it slightly and saw the brass glinting back at me in the harsh white light — a full load. Fifteen rounds, just as it should be. My throat tightened.

 

This wasn’t just my model.

 

This was my configuration.

 

I slid the magazine back into place and continued the inspection, running my fingers along the frame, the slide, the grip. Everything felt familiar, intimate in a way that made my skin prickle. This gun had been an extension of me. It had lived at my side. I could feel that in my bones even now.

 

I checked the safety systems, the mechanisms that prevented accidents and misfires, the things drilled into every agent until they were instinct rather than thought. Everything was intact. Everything was correct.

 

Everything was wrong.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Thirty

 

Rain woke me, though I hadn’t really been asleep.

 

It tapped at the motel window in a steady, patient rhythm, the sound soft but insistent, as if it were trying to remind me that the world outside was still moving even though I felt suspended somewhere between moments. I lay on my back, staring into the darkness, listening. Beside me, Martin slept, his breathing slow and even, one arm flung loosely across the bed but not touching me.

 

I had thought I would feel different.

 

That was the strange part. I had almost crossed a line I had guarded for so long - one I had imagined as monumental, irreversible - and yet at the brink of the point of no return I had screamed for Martin to stop. And Martin had stopped. I remembered the uncomfortable sucking motion as he withdrew the head of his penis from inside of me. My body had seemed to protest, to try and retain him somehow. What I felt now was not clarity or release, but a thick, uneasy confusion. The experience itself had been gentle, careful, almost reverent. Martin had been kind. He had done everything right, at least according to the version of events I had rehearsed in my head for years.

 

And yet the performance of sexual penetration had remained unresolved.

 

“Ashlee…” I could hear the frustration in his voice as his stiff penis seemed to stare at me in accusation. “You have some serious issues.”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” I had wept into my pillow. 

 

Just take me! A voice had screamed inside of my head. Be a man! 

 

“I need to… do something about this…” Martin had said, touching his stiff shaft. “If you won’t.”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Nine

 

The door to the motel room shut behind us with a soft, hollow click that seemed louder than it should have been. The sound lingered in the air, settling into the corners of the room along with the faint smell of old detergent and something vaguely medicinal. A single lamp buzzed quietly near the window, casting a yellowish light over the furniture.

 

I took a few steps in, then stopped.

 

There was only one bed.

 

It sat in the centre of the room like the proverbial ‘elephant in the room’  - double-sized, neatly made, the patterned bedspread pulled tight and smooth. Two pillows. One lamp on each side. No couch. No armchair. No escape.

 

“Oh,” I said, far too brightly. “Well. it’s a… bed.”

 

Martin set his overnight bag down near the door and glanced around, nodding as if everything were exactly as expected. “Looks clean enough,” he said. “Which is more than I was hoping for, honestly.”

 

There’s only one bed, Martin, I thought to myself. I didn’t look directly at the bed now. Let him say something. Let him comprehend the problem.

 

Just… the one… bed.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Eight

Martin slowed the car to a near crawl, finally stopping in front of a small, shuttered building with a flickering neon sign that sputtered “Dunwich Diner – Open Late.” The mist curled around the tires, obscuring the edges of the road, and every cobblestone seemed coated with a thin layer of damp that reflected the headlights like faint eyes staring back.

 

I exhaled, though it felt more like a shudder than relief. “Finally,” I whispered. But the word sounded hollow in the stillness. Even the diner looked wrong - its façade leaning ever so slightly forward, the windows dark except for a faint yellow glow behind the cracks. The door was boarded on one side, the other side’s paint peeling, warped by decades of damp New England winters.

 

Martin killed the engine and leaned back in his seat, the calm he carried for hours still intact. “We’ll find gas. Maybe even a place to sleep. Don’t worry.”

 

I didn’t answer. My stomach was tight, and my fingers fidgeted in my lap. I wanted to get out of the car, to breathe, to see that this wasn’t some trap, but the longer I stared at the town, the more every line of the buildings, every crooked fence and warped sign, whispered unease. My imagination, already frayed, spun subtle horrors: the windows too dark, too opaque; shadows pooling in corners that didn’t make sense.

 

“I think this is a mistake. Call it my FBI intuition.”

 

“Come on,” Martin said, pushing the door open. “Let’s stretch our legs. It’s just a town, Ashlee. There’s nothing here but tired people and old buildings.”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Seven

 

“If I never see rural woodland ever again, it’ll be too soon,” I said, as I sat in the back seat of Martin’s car. I had to sit in the backseat because my petticoat flared out on each side, the moment I sat down. “Where are we exactly?” It was dark outside and I couldn’t see much through the windows – just vague glimpses of trees flashing past.

 

“I’m not sure, to be honest, Ash. My GPS doesn’t seem to be connecting. I’m trying to find some sign posts.”

 

We seemed to be driving around the countryside at random. I peered out of the side window again, as I l moved my petticoat rustled. “I hate this fucking dress.”

 

“You actually look kind of cute,” Martin said. “A bit like a grown up Alice in Wonderland. It’s sexy.”

 

“I will worry about your disturbing sexual fetishes when I’m safely home,” I said. The back seat smelled faintly of old fabric and something pine-sharp, like an air freshener that had long since given up. I sat with my knees drawn close, arms wrapped around myself, watching the headlights carve a narrow, trembling tunnel through the dark.

 

No GPS. No signal. Just the road unspooling endlessly ahead of us, pale and slick as a ribbon.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Six

I ran straight into Martin’s arms without a second thought. 

How very female of me. 

 

“Ashlee – my God, look at you. Are you all right?”

 

I didn’t realize how cold I was until Martin’s arms closed around me. It wasn’t sudden or theatrical—just there, solid and warm, his coat rough against my cheek, his hands steady on my back as if they had always known exactly where to go. My body reacted before my mind could object. I leaned into him, hard, my fingers knotting in the fabric at his shoulders, breath hitching as something inside me finally gave way.

 

For a moment, I let myself be held. Oh, but it felt so good to be held by a man. To be subject to his strength and his protection. Isn’t that what we all truly wanted? To be owned?

 

The woods were still behind us, dark and impenetrable, but Martin stood between me and them, broad-shouldered, familiar. The smell of him - soap, road dust, his old world cologne, something faintly metallic - anchored me more effectively than any grounding technique I could remember. My shaking slowed. My heart stopped trying to tear its way out of my chest. And that, more than anything else, troubled me, because this wasn’t who I was supposed to be. I was Ashlee Ellis. FBI. Tough. Controlled. I didn’t collapse into anyone’s arms after a bad situation. I debriefed. I compartmentalized. I took command. Yet here I was, clinging to my boyfriend like a frightened girl who’d wandered too far from home.

 

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him.

 

Martin’s face was drawn tight with worry, eyes scanning me as if counting injuries, confirming I was real. He cupped my face gently, thumbs brushing dirt and dried tears from my cheeks, and I felt another flicker of shame at how badly I wanted that touch to continue. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said quietly. “For days.”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Five

 

NOW:

I didn’t move at first.

 

I stood in the narrow hallway between the kitchen and the back door, my hand hovering inches from the latch, my whole body locked in a strange, humiliating paralysis. Outside, the woods waited - dark, tangled, unknowable. Behind me, through the front windows, the private road curved out of sight like a deliberate secrecy, and at its far end two masked figures had appeared from the cabin of a flatbed truck. 

 

They were distant, still small enough to be shapes rather than men, but I could see them on the grainy security cam footage that was playing on Rosemary’s television set. Masks. Long blades catching the dull light through the trees. Their approach was unhurried, almost ceremonial.

 

I told myself to breathe.

 

I was FBI. I had been trained for this. Situational awareness, threat assessment, decision under pressure. This was the kind of moment I was supposed to handle cleanly, decisively. So why were my hands shaking?

 

The thought made me angry. Ashamed.

 

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt; a wild, panicked rhythm that didn’t belong in my chest. I pressed my palm flat against the wall, grounding myself, feeling the cool plaster beneath my skin. I waited for the fear to settle into something usable - focus, clarity, purpose.

 

It didn’t.

 

Instead, it bloomed.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Four

 

Seven Weeks Later:

 

“I feel so violated,’ I said as I sat on the edge of the hospital trolley, wearing nothing more than a white hospital gown, tied together at my back.

 

The local anaesthetic had yet to wear off, so my left breast felt numb and doughy to the touch.

 

The discharge room was smaller than the operating room, but somehow less contained. A single chair sat against the wall. The trolley was narrow, the paper sheet crinkling beneath me with every breath, too loud in the quiet. The walls were bare except for a laminated notice about hand hygiene that I kept rereading without absorbing a word.

 

I was technically ready to leave, and that was supposed to mean I was fine. My body agreed well enough - no dizziness, no pain sharp enough to demand attention - but my mind lagged behind, slow and shaken. The local anaesthetic had worn off in patches, leaving a strange in-between sensation that made it hard to trust where I ended and the room began.

 

I kept my hands folded in my lap because I didn’t know what else to do with them. They felt restless, like they wanted to reach for something solid and familiar, but there was nothing in reach that belonged to me. The plastic bracelet around my wrist caught the light when I moved, a quiet reminder that I was still, in some small way, not entirely my own.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Three

 

Several years ago – South Hadley, Massachusetts, Christmas Eve:

 

If I thought the beeping from my plastic wrist band would stop after a few minutes I was to be disappointed. If anything, the beeping became more strident with a sense of urgency the further I walked. The sound was coming from the laminated tag and nothing I did seemed to silence it. The tag dangled from the small metal ring and beeped away. Passers-by began to stare as I lifted the lapels of my coat for warmth and hurried on back up the street. It was three quarters of a mile back to campus, and in these three inch heels that distance would feel like it was doubled.  

 

The high street glowed the way it does on TV on Christmas Eve, as if was trying a little too hard to be picturesque. Storefront windows spilled warm light onto the sidewalk and doorways where festive wreaths were hung with red ribbon and tinsel trembling whenever the door swung open. I walked past mannequins frozen in wool coats and sensible shoes in shop windows, my heels clicking sharp and uneven as the first hush of fresh snow began to fall.

 

The flakes were small and dry, skittering sideways in the wind, catching in my hair and on the shoulders of my coat. Three-inch heels were a mistake, I knew that now. Each step had to be careful, the pavement slick already, my ankles tight with the effort of balance and pride. My feet ached, but I didn’t slow down. I could still hear Michael’s smug voice denying everything and telling me I was making an unseemly fuss. 

 

How dare he!

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty Two

Several years ago – Mount Holyoke, Christmas Eve:

 

Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring tingle tingling too (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling "yoo hoo!" (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

 

Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cozy are we (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)

 

It was Christmas Eve – the last Christmas Eve we would share together before we graduated from Mount Holyoke – and Bryony and I were determined to make this one special. Obviously, we would remain in touch once we graduated and went our separate ways – me pursuing a professional legal career and Bryony doing… well, whatever rich trust fund girls like Bryony did when their dalliance with higher education was over. But it would never be quite the same again. 

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty One

 

Let it go, let it go

Can't hold it back anymore

Let it go, let it go

Turn away and slam the door

I don't care what they're going to say

Let the storm rage on

The cold never bothered me anyway

 

I was singing. I was singing along to the fucking song, ‘Let it Go’, from Frozen, as Rosemary gripped my left hand with her stronger right and encouraged me with smiles and little tugs of my hand. 

 

We were watching Frozen for the second time. The first had just been a straight forward viewing of the film, and I had been told to not get too excited and just watch the film. The second viewing was so that I would have the opportunity to sing along when each song began. Rosemary selected an option on the DVD that displayed the lyrics, bouncing along the bottom of the screen with cute frosty animations as the songs were sung.

 

“You’re having so much fun, Ashlee. Isn’t this the best birthday ever?”

 

“It’s really good, Rosemary,” I said. All the doors were locked and I could tell from her grip that Rosemary was a powerful and strong woman. And she was clearly insane.

 

“Have another gooey slice of cake, Ashlee,” she said, beaming as she picked up the cake knife again from where she had returned it to the table. It taunted me with its close proximity to my hand. This would be my fourth big slice of birthday cake.

 

“I’m really quite full, Rosemary, but thank you anyway.”

 

“Nonsense. Birthdays are for stuffing yourself full with cake until you burst.” She pressed another slice into my hands and dabbed with a napkin where a bit of cream had fallen on my skirt when I fumbled with the plate. “Do be careful, Ashlee. It may be your birthday, but I expect good table manners from little birthday girls.” Her happy face suddenly changed to one of a scowling expression. I saw a sudden darkness in her features as she mopped at the small cream stain. “You shouldn’t make me upset with you...”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Twenty

 

“It’s ever so gooey, but that’s hardly a bad thing on a birthday, is it, honey?”

 

Rosemary placed a large cake smothered in cream on the table and began to cut two enormous slices from it. Only half an hour ago she had assembled party streamers and hung the words ‘Happy Birthday Ashlee!’ across the living room, though in her haste she had managed to spell all the words wrong. I didn’t think it wise to correct her. The woman was clearly insane, and I was now locked inside her remote house deep in the rural countryside, just outside of Innsmouth.  

 

“I don’t know about you, honey, but I think a birthday without really sticky cake is like Tom without Jerry.”

 

I smiled nervously and fingered the fabric of the ridiculous party dress she had insisted I wear. I watched as she finished cutting the cake, served two thick slices, and placed the cake knife on the side of the table fairly close to where my plate was. It wouldn’t be particularly sharp, but it was better than nothing. My party dress was stiff, bell-shaped, with a starched petticoat that insisted on standing away from the body of the garment. The fabric was pastel powder blue and decorated with tiny, earnest details: embroidered flowers, and a ribbon sash tied into an aggressively neat bow at the front. On my feet I wore a pair of simple Mary Jane shoes with side straps over short frilly white socks neatly folded over. I felt completely ridiculous. My hair was gathered back with the obligatory neat white ribbon that Rosemary had insisted on tying into a floppy bow.

 

“Don’t you look like an angel?” she had said as she stood back to check me over. “Even my little Ada never looked this good in her party dress. You’re going to have the best birthday ever.”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Nineteen

 

Several years ago – Mount Holyoke College:

 

“I do think this has all gone a bit too far,” I said as I watched as Amelia Fenton was paraded around the grounds of Mount Holyoke college before being made to burn all the clothes she owned, one pretty garment at a time, dropping them, under the supervision of the Sorority Sisters, into a burning coal brazier that coughed up oily black smoke. Her once beautiful blonde hair, once so perfectly styled, had been rudely cropped by scissors and a cheap eclectic hair trimmer so that it was now just an uneven clump about her head, no more than a few centimetres long in places. Instead of the shimmering silk blouse and short leather miniskirt she had been ill-advised to wear last night when she had left the campus grounds to visit a night club in the town centre, she now wore an ugly one-piece boiler suit, a few sizes too big for her. The fabric was a dull, institutional colour of tired grey and it had gone soft in the wrong places while staying stiff where it ought to bend. The shoulders drooped, the torso sagged, and the legs bunched and wrinkled, swallowing her shape without even the decency of symmetry. The fit was especially unforgiving: too tight across the hips, too loose through the waist, it managed the rare trick of both straining and bagging at the same time. Seams pulled awkwardly when she moved, while excess cloth ballooned at her back and knees, creasing in thick, stubborn folds. The zipper never seemed to sit flat, and the cuffs dragged just enough to look careless without being practical. Even the pockets gaped uselessly, adding bulk where none was wanted. It made her look lumpy and unattractive, which was the point. Two of the large Sorority Sisters watched her as they stood holding switches. We all knew the girls – Trinny Marston and Victoria Hearst – both tall, strong looking, and broad through the shoulders, thick in the arms, weight carried low and solid, as if each step was part of a military march. Their faces were composed of plain and sturdy lines - jaws set, noses blunt, brows heavy enough to shade the eyes.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Eighteen

 

My scream brought a concerned Rosemary running up the short flight of stairs to my dormer bedroom.

 

No, not my bedroom, her daughter’s bedroom. 

 

This wasn’t my bedroom.

 

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong? Is it a horrible nightmare? Why, don’t be scared – my little Ada had nightmares too, sometimes. Here, I’ve brought you a nice glass of milk.”

 

I sat up on the edge of the bed in my stupid Frozen night slip, with the cartoon characters emblazoned on the front. One thin spaghetti strap had slipped past my shoulder and so I lifted it back in place as Rosemary sat down beside me and ran her hand through my hair. 

 

“You had such a nasty shock last night when you crashed your car. How was the bed?”

 

“STOP THIS! PLEASE! Just stop this!” I sobbed.

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Seventeen

“You’re looking good, Elijah. You haven’t changed a bit in all the years since I last saw you.” 

 

Elijah smiled again. “You flatter me, Ashlee. But I could say the same for you. Have you been dipping yourself in the Fountain of Youth? What’s your secret? Do tell?”

 

I smiled back. It was true that I had yet to see any signs of encroaching age. My skin was as clear and wrinkle free as when I had been at college. I’m just lucky, I guess. “You live here?” I asked, as I gazed around the book lined study. 

 

“I do.” Elijah’s smile never wavered. 

 

“I suppose I should ask whether you’ve actually read all these books?”

 

“Hardly. This library belonged to Joseph Curwen. He bought the house in the 1970s. You’ve heard of him?

“Curwen. Yes. I read his case file in Quantico as one of my many assignments. I’m FBI these days. I bet that surprises you, Elijah? Me – FBI?”

 

“Nothing surprises me,” said Elijah as he leaned back in his leather armchair. “Tell me about Joseph Curwen.”

The Shadow in the Dark Chapter Sixteen

There was no mistaking the look of surprise on the woman’s face. For a moment she looked confused as her eyes confirmed I was wearing a white silk ribbon in my hair, and then those same eyes glanced down at my brief kilt skirt and white socks.

 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “You wear a white ribbon.”

 

“Uh, yes, but…” I hesitated. What was I going to say, that I hadn’t actually dressed myself this morning? That would sound crazy. “I’m Ashlee Ellis,” I said again. “I can’t believe those men aren’t helping you with your cases.”

 

“I know. It’s a deplorable state of affairs. They know who I am.”

 

I nodded. I didn’t know who she was, of course. I smiled, expecting an introduction of some sort. 

 

“Oh, yes,” she said, “of course. We haven’t been introduced. Cecily Jacqueline Ashton Croft. Of the Croft family.”

 

“Let me guess, you’re related to Lara?” I smiled at my own joke. She probably heard that all the time. 

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Uh, Lara Croft?” There was no recognition on her face. None whatsoever. 

 

“I really don’t know who she is. She must be a different branch of the family.”

 

Okay. Obviously, she didn’t hear that all the time. I tried to suppress a follow up smile that might come across as laughing at her. “So, you know Elijah?”