Page 13 of The Shop on Hidden Lane

“Uh-huh.”

“Do I at least get some credit for shutting down the ice fever?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She continued to stare at the road through the windshield. “You saw my eyes.”

“Yep. And, as I told you, they are very nice eyes. My turn. What were you afraid I would see?”

She switched her gaze to the black mirror of the lake. “It’s not a good idea to look at my eyes, let alone make physical contact, when I am in a trance or when I’m coming out of one.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” She turned back to the view of the road. “I’ve run a few experiments. The problem is that none of my test subjects have stuck around long enough to give me a detailed analysis. I scare them. No, I terrify them. They act like they’ve seen a ghost or…something worse.”

“What’s worse than a ghost?”

She hesitated. “A demon, maybe.”

He thought about that while he turned onto the side road that dead-ended at the Shop on Hidden Lane.

“Sounds like when you’re in your zone you give off some hallucinatory vibes that can affect people who are in close proximity,” he said. “Something to do with the energy it takes to will yourself in and out of a trance, probably.”

“That’s what Aunt Bea says.” Sophy looked at him. “So why didn’t you freak out tonight?”

He brought the SUV to a halt in front of the two-story house. “Maybe I’ve got a form of immunity because of my night vision.” He shut down the engine. “What’s this about running experiments?”

She paused and then cleared her throat. “Occasionally I conduct what you might call a test. Sometimes, like tonight, the experiment is accidental.”

“I’m an accidental experiment?”

“Not exactly. Well, yes, in a way.” She unclipped her seat belt and prepared to get out of the vehicle. “Look, this is hard to explain and it’s got nothing to do with our problem.”

She cracked open the door.

“Wait,” he said. “I need to know what usually happens when you run your experiments.”

She jumped down to the ground, turned, and looked at him. Her eyes sparked with a little heat.

“My last experiment screamed, called me a succubus, and took off running,” she said. “That’s the kind of thing that happens when I run one of my experiments. Satisfied? It’s late. The storm will hit soon and I need some sleep. I’m going to leave for that art colony first thing in the morning, assuming the road is clear.”

“A succubus?” He whistled softly. “A female demon who visits men in their dreams to have sex with them. I’ve always wanted to date one of those.”

“You forgot the part where the succubus sucks out the victim’s vital bodily juices so that he grows weaker and weaker and finally croaks.”

“What’s life without a little risk?”

“I’m glad you find the idea of a succubus entertaining. The man who called me one did not.” She winced. “I terrified him.”

“Sounds like he was a real loser.”

“No, actually, he’s a police sketch artist. He definitely has some talent, both the artistic kind and the psychic sort.” She paused. “He said I was his Muse. He wanted to watch me work. He thought it would inspire him.”

“Have you heard from him since he ran off into the night?”

“Not exactly.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s complicated and not important.”