“I know, Dad. Geeze, I’m not stupid. Can we listen to my book now?” Stevie asked, and Paul watched him in the rearview mirror. He was a good kid. Not quite as smart or inquisitive as Taylor was at that age, but a fun, warm-hearted soul.
“Sure, bud.” Paul pressed play and started the four-hour trek to see his daughter.
_______________
Taylor came to, aware someone was in the room with her. After a night spent researching monsters and an incriminating journal, her nerves were fried. She briefly wondered how she’d ever fallen asleep in the first place, before remembering the sound of plodding footsteps moving slowly toward her bed.
Her head was buried deep under the covers, which were musty quilts, probably pulled from a trunk somewhere for her visit. The scent was overwhelming, and she tossed the blankets aside, ready to attack the invader.
“Whoa, it’s just me,” Brent said. His hair was messy, and he didn’t look like he’d slept much either.
Taylor let her arm fall to the bed as her boyfriend sat close. He leaned in and kissed her on the top of the head. “Tell me I dreamt all of that stuff about shadow creatures and your family,” he said.
She shook her head then rested it on his shoulder. “Unfortunately, no, you didn’t.”
A soft knock carried from the bedroom door, and it opened at the impact.
“You guys up?” It was Isabelle. She was in pale blue pajamas, matching tops and bottoms: the kind that button up all the way with a collar, like you’d find on Christmas morning.
“We’re up. What time is it?” Taylor asked. She’d flipped her phone onto its face at some point.
“Nine thirty,” her cousin answered.
“Shit, we slept in.” Taylor moved to get up, almost shoving Brent out of the way.
“What’s the hurry?” Brent asked.
“Guys, I read more of the journal last night,” she told them.
Isabelle frowned at her. “You should’ve waited for us. We could’ve done that this morning.”
“Yeah, what she said. No wonder you look like you didn’t get any sleep,” Brent said.
Taylor bit her tongue, not wanting to tell him he wasn’t much better off. “Maybe, but it had to be done.”
“And what did you find out?” Isabelle asked, and Taylor suddenly felt claustrophobic in the small room. If she closed her eyes, it felt like she was stuck under the orchard. She could almost smell the musty underground corridors.
“Let’s go into the other room.” Taylor got up, and when they left, she grabbed the journal and her phone. She stopped at a mirror on the wall and pulled a brush from her bag, setting the other stuff down. She did look a mess. How could Brent ever be interested in her when he saw her like this?
Brent wasn’t there. “I told him to have a quick shower.” Isabelle patted the couch. “What did you learn?”
Taylor was conflicted, but she could always fill Brent in later. “A lot of the writing was illegible. It was written in haste, some of it smeared, other parts ripped out or faded. The basis is this. Our ancestors, the Schmidts, lived in Germany.”
“I never even knew we were German,” Isabelle interrupted.
“Neither did I,” Taylor said before she continued. “It was the early eighteen hundreds. They moved to a northern village, one sparsely populated at the time. It was becoming a logging town, and they needed the work. Out of desperation, the whole family went along for the ride. The parents of both Elisabeth and Hans, along with siblings, made the trek and found work there. They lived together in a cabin made with their own hands.”
“This is all in the book?” Isabelle asked.
“Yes. The details were rushed, but that’s the gist of it. After a few months, the logging crew uncovered something. It doesn’t say what, but they used the word nest, which is the same in both languages, as far as I can tell.” Taylor heard the shower turn off from the room beside them.
“A nest? Like the one under the orchards?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. It’s becoming a little clearer, isn’t it? So the creature’s nest is disturbed. An ancient being, who lives underground in a remote part of Germany. Who knows how long it was there, lying dormant?” Taylor thought it might be very old.
“What happened next?” Isabelle was far off the edge of the couch; Taylor wondered if she was going to fall off.
“Take a guess.”
Isabelle’s voice went even quieter. “Children went missing?”
Taylor nodded. “Bingo. A bunch of kids go missing in the next month, and the logging crew starts to see things out there. That’s where they start calling it Schattenmann. Shadow man.”
“Are you guys coming up to eat soon? There’s coffee!” Taylor’s aunt shouted from the top of the stairs, and despite the creepy stuff they were digging into and discussing, Taylor had to smile. She loved her aunt, and spending time, albeit a little twisted time, with Isabelle was priceless.
“What’d I miss?” Brent asked from the bathroom door. He was wearing jeans and no shirt. His hair was damp, and Taylor couldn’t miss the darting glance her cousin gave Brent. Not that she blamed her. The men weren’t made like that in Red Creek. Brent grabbed a navy polo and pulled it on, coming to stand beside the couch.
Isabelle took this one. “The Schmidts moved to a logging town, where they proceeded to dig up the shadow monster’s nest, apparently awakening a horror on our family.”
Taylor was impressed with the quick explanation. “There’s more.”
“Coffee’s getting cold!” Aunt Beth shouted from upstairs.
“I’ll tell you on the way to Gilden Hospital,” Taylor said, running up the stairs. She was still in sweats and a rock band t-shirt from way before her time, another of her dad’s influences over her.
“Where’s Dad?” Isabelle asked her mom as they crowded around the table, where far
