Page 45 of Found in Obscurity

He had to be fast. Had to come up with something Lorin would get.

He scratched the first two letters into the wooden surface before the pencil slipped from his grip on the third.

His front paws formed. The pencil clattered and rolled onto the floor.

He tried to speak once again. He managed a tiny yelp that, somehow, startled Lorin awake.

But it was too late.

Chapter eleven

Lorin

He blinked against thecobwebs in his eyes, looking at Kit, who was going absolutely insane on the floor next to him.

He righted himself from where he’d slumped into the sofa, feeling uneasiness start to build in his chest. The only times Kit had reacted like this had been after IT had happened. The ghost.

“Kit?” he asked slowly, taking in the disarray around him.

There was no sign of anything else. No figure. But the book he was reading was on the floor, and there was a pencil under the coffee table that had been dislodged from its previous spot. Kit was yelping and hissing at the top of his lungs next to it.

“What’s happening?” he asked, sliding from the sofa and kneeling down, trying to scoop Kit up. “Did you see something?”

Kit hissed at him as if burned, squirming away and throwing himself, front paws first, onto the side of the coffee table, scratching at the surface. Completely lost and with his apprehension growing, Lorin shuffled over to the table on hisknees, leaning in and pushing Kit’s paws away to at least look at what had the fox so jittery.

As soon as the fur moved, his eyes went wide, breath getting caught in his throat.

Letters.

A message.

Someone had been here.

Someone had come in while he was sleeping again, and this time, they hadn’t just stood there looking at him.

It had escalated.

The proof on the table made it real, and Lorin found himself sweating in fear as he scrambled for his phone.

He dialed the number and let it ring, pushing himself backward into the wall and curling up there, staring at the room in front of him, wide-eyed and terrified. They could still be here. Behind any of the closed doors. Upstairs.

Watching him.

Waiting for his attention to slip again.

The phone rang and rang and rang and then finally…

“Lorin?” his grandma answered, voice thick with sleep.

“I need you to come here,” he said. “Right now!”

“What?” she asked, sounding alarmed. “Lorin, what’s happening?”

He had no idea, that was the point. He had no clue what to tell her, or what to make of any of it. He just wanted someone there. He needed someone to help him figure it out. And also, he maybe needed someone who knew how to soothe him when he was agitated. She might not have seen him in years, but she knew him better than anyone else.

“Just…please,” he said, and she must have heard the desperation because she promised she’d be there right away before hanging up the phone.

He put his own phone down, wrapping his arms around his legs and keeping his eyes peeled as he sat there, waiting.