Classes done for the day, James spread the notes he’d made from the journals over the desk in his office. He had a copy of his father’s book as well and was going through it highlighting relevant passages.
“How’s it going?” Ben asked from the office door.
“It’s going,” James said, without looking up.
“What are you doing?” He came all the way into the room, peering at the papers cluttering the normally pristine space.
James sighed. “I’ve finished going through all those family journals I told you about, and now I’m going to compare the notes I took to my father’s book.”
His friend was unnaturally quiet, and James glanced up at him. “What?”
Ben hesitated, then asked, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“The book is out there and your father is gone. What are you trying to prove?”
James was a little taken aback. “What are you talking about, I’m not trying to prove anything.”
“You sure about that?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” James said, shuffling the papers around on the desk. “I’m just curious about how much of Dad’s obsession came from the journals and how much of it was the fact he was just bat shit crazy.”
They’d been friends long enough that Ben knew when to back off, as he did now. “If you say so,” he said, moving back to the door. “Are you and Maggie coming to the faculty luncheon on Saturday?”
“Yes,” James said, grateful for the change of subject. “We already have Christine booked to babysit.”
Ben nodded.
“What about you, are you and Heather Bradshaw still a thing?”
“Stephanie Tamsin,” Ben said with a grin.
“Tamsin,” James repeated, brow furrowed. “Isn’t she the newest addition to the philosophy department?”
Ben’s grin widened.
James shook his head with a chuckle. “Is there anyone on the faculty you haven’t dated?”
“I’ll see you Saturday,” Ben said, giving a small wave as he departed.
James waited a couple of minutes, then got up and closed the door. Technically he was still on the clock, but maybe the closed door would be enough to deter any more visitors.
Seated once more behind his desk, he stared at his notes. Maybe Ben had a point. Maybe he was trying to prove something, if only to himself. He just wasn’t sure at this point if he was trying to prove his father was delusional, or if he was right.
With a sigh he opened his father’s book and picked up the first page of his notes. Rumors of the creatures had begun almost as soon as the settlers arrived. That first winter, in fact, corroborating Joseph’s account.
“They were there from the beginning,” he read. “The truth is, they were probably there from way before the beginning. But I don’t believe they were a threat then. I think they were just overly cautious in meeting us, maybe they perceived us as the threat. That’s why they stayed hidden.”
Okay, that much was verified by the journals. But the early sightings were so vague they could have been anything, really.
“Wait a minute. He said he didn’t believe they were a threat then,” James said, going through his notes. “So when exactly did they become a threat?”
He flipped through his father’s book until he came to that section.
“There were many deaths that could be traced back to Winter’s Children, but I believe they were accidental. I think they were shy by nature, and lured single folk away to try and communicate. Maybe they didn’t understand that we couldn’t take the cold the way they could.”
“Seriously Dad?” James sat back in his chair with a thump. “After all your big talk of how evil they were, you’re defending them?”
Leaning forward again, he continued reading.
”But all that changed when Joshua Preston shot several of them. There were no bodies, of course, Winter’s Children left nothing behind. But that showed them beyond a shadow of a doubt what kind of threat we could be.”
There, Joshua Preston. He was the one who made the first detailed description of the creatures. Then later he went crazy and killed his brother Ethan. According to Johnathan Preston, his surviving brother, Joshua had suddenly started shooting at shadows.
Shadows, James read. Not creatures, shadows. No one else saw anything. He was almost disappointed that Joseph had blown the whole incident out of proportion, then twisted it to fit his own version of the truth.
With a sigh, he gathered up his papers and shoved them in the bottom drawer of his desk, along with his father’s book. Time to let it go.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,
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