Book One First encounter

5

What the hell? ....What was that all about? ...I asked myself as I moved on swiftly down the street; question after question racing through my mind. What had I just witnessed? What had Dauvit and the other creepy bloke Hager...been talking about? But more importantly than that...why when I had glimpsed Dauvit's pale, drawn face through the glass...had he seemed so frightened by it?

None of it made any sense to me, and no matter how many times I ran the scenario through my mind...I couldn't come up with a single answer, or logical explanation for what I had witnessed. Perhaps it had been nothing more than a perfectly rational conversation taking place between two perfectly rational adults.

I could very well have been blowing things out of all proportion, and allowing my already overactive imagination to run away with me.

No...my mind shouted back at me...that didn't seem right, but then again...what could I possibly hope to do about it?

Even if something untoward had been going on, being a stranger in town, it was out of my hands, and there was nothing I could do to change that. So there was little point in worrying about it. Besides it was almost 3'0 clock, the blue sky above me was being slowly covered by patches of grey cloud, and there was still as yet no sign of Bella

 Pausing for a moment I put on my leather jacket that was still folded across my arm; straightening the collar which had become crumpled, and yanking it up to my chin to keep out the cold air that was trying to snake its way in.

The next building I came across was the local pub, which I noted with some amusement, was called 'The Siren's Song. A picture of a woman singing, painted on the huge sign hung above the door, the rusted chains holding it in place, squeaking faintly, sounding as if they hadn't been oiled in over a century.

From inside I could make out the sound of people laughing, and talking, walking up to the door, I peered inside, my eyes scanning round the crowded room. Satisfied there was nothing to see, I was about to make my way back to the coffee house, when something caught my eye.

In the far corner of the room was a girl, sitting by herself, her elbows propped up against the beer stained, wooden oak bar, her hands splayed out across her back, reminding me in some way of how Shanarah had looked the first time I had seen her through the window of the coffee shop.

Could it be her...I thought... a nagging compulsion racing through me, urging me to go over, and find out. Then before I realised what was happening, I had walked through the doorway, and was making my way over to where she was sitting. My mouth dry with anticipation, I felt a nervous, giddy feeling spreading round my body.

A tingling butterfly -sensation, as if I were looking down at something from a great height, and would fall at any moment. Pushing my way through the crowd, I hurried over to her; dimly Aware of the customers following my every move.

Never taking my eyes off Annabella for a second I kept my attention focused on her, blocking out everyone else around me; fearful that she would disappear like a phantom before me, and I would be left wondering if I hadn't imagined her.

Easing past the last group of people, who turned their heads to watch me; the expression on their faces one of quiet disapproval, I walked over to the bar, and stood next to her, and then my mind went completely blank; all rational thoughts heading out the window.

What the hell am I going to say? I thought...I had been so desperate to get over to her; I hadn't given a single thought as to what I might say when I finally got there.

"Can I help ya?" said the barmaid breaking my concentration. Dressed in a long flowery print dress; she had her long dark hair pinned back off her face, her sharp features twisting into a sort of grimace. Her eerily luminous green eyes glinting menacingly like two sharp daggers, as she stared at me impatiently, leaning her full weight against the bar, her hands...which I had to admit were unusually large for a girl, spread out across the wooden surface. The fingers on her left hand drumming out an irregular beat.