#
The air in the library was so cold she could see her breath hanging in the air as she wandered the empty shelves, seeming to float above the white mist that covered the floor like dry ice in a bad 1970s musical.
She tried to call out, but she didn’t know who to call. Her vague plea for help fell about a foot in front of her, the voice that escaped her mouth a hollow, weak whisper with no momentum.
As she ascended the stairs, a man appeared at the top. He slowly descended to meet her half way. He wore a trim suit that looked like something out of the old historical photos of Victorian age business men. His hair was slick and black, combed straight back, but high in front. His pale cheeks were hollow, his jawline a razor. He wore a thin moustache, and his eyes were a piercing, haunting light grey-blue.
He reached out his hand and took hers. His skin was like ice, but his eyes were a flame. His expression was intense.
“My Virginia, there is not much time. Listen carefully.”
“Who – who are you?” she whispered, her belly quivering, her heart in her throat, her breath shallow.
“It is I, Wendell Young. I have longed to tell you directly, how I love you so. But there is no time for this. You are in grave danger, my dear. It is imperative that we speak of only that which will save your life.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the threat!”
“No, no, my love. He has twisted the truth. The one who calls himself Kyle – you must stay away from him – or you will pay the price. You must trust me.”
Virginia stared at this apparition, barely believing her eyes, and not knowing if she should believe the words hitting her ears. “But you’re a killer.”
“Do not believe everything you read about me in the history books. Now, you must return. The time is nigh. Be safe.”
Virginia suddenly felt herself falling, falling through the white formless void of mist, her stomach lurching, the moisture around her condensing on her pale skin.
Falling . . .
#
She awoke in the arms of Kyle Walker, who had a cool compress pressed to the side of her throbbing head.
“Kyle,” she said weakly. “I had the weirdest dream. I saw him – Wendell Young. He said –” she stopped abruptly as she looked into Kyle’s eyes.
She recalled her vision.
The man in the library. Wendell Young. The eyes.
Kyle’s eyes.
She caught her breath, tried to stifle the fear on her face.
But Kyle read it, and his face changed.
“So, you see now. My name is Wendell Young the fourth. My great grandfather was the notorious Bedminster Reader Rapist. Eight dead girls. But he never finished his work. There were more – there were girls he missed. I’m here to complete his legacy.”
Virginia reached out for her bookshelf and grabbed a thick, rich, hardback thesaurus and crashed it into Wendell’s face.
He fell backward dizzily, blood streaming from his nose. She walloped him once more, again in the face. He fell back and knocked the back of his head on the table and slumped to the floor.
“What’s another word for ‘don’t even think about it, creep’?”
She dropped the thesaurus and breathed heavily, then collapsed in the chair. Then she spotted a slip of paper poking out of the thesaurus. She tugged at it, and tried to get her wet eyes to focus on the words.
Well done, my dear. By now it is clear to you that my great grandson is insane. He fabricated stories about me so he could prey on women such as yourself. My dear, it is tragic that I cannot give you my love but through these books. But perhaps you could use books to show me your love – by vindicating me, setting the historical record straight – clearing my name. Pity young Wendell there has tarnished it beyond what you and I can repair, but at least it should be known that I, Wendell Young Senior, am an innocent man. Take care my love, and watch for me in your reading. I will always be around.
Virginia looked over at the unconscious man flopped in a heap on her short-pile brown shag carpet in her front room.
She pulled out her mobile and dialed 999, explained the situation briefly to the operator, and hung up.
She grabbed some twine and bound Wendell IV’s hands and feet.
Then she opened the fat cover of Gem of Power, and dug in.
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