The Black Train

story.

A shapely shadow hovered—the barmaid. She got him another beer, then noticed his plate. “How did you like the Roadkill Sausage?”

“The what?”

“It’s smoked possum and muskrat—a Southern delicacy.”

Collier stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I just ate—”

“Relax!” she said. “They’re farm-raised and corn-fed. You’ve never been to the South before, have you? An even better Southern delicacy are the Smoky Mountain Oysters. Want to try them?”

Mortified, Collier shook his head.

“Hey, everybody! Look!” someone called out. Everyone was looking up at the TV.

“The results are in!” a voice-over announced. Multiple clips of Collier’s show flashed on the screen. “There’s a new hunk in town! Justin Collier, the Prince of Beer, has just been voted the sexiest man on the Food Network! Look for his brand-new episodes coming soon right here!”

Damn…

Applause rose like the roar of a waterfall. Collier blushed. A bunch of women were whistling. When he jerked around, he found Dominique standing right next to him, clapping as well.

“I’m falling for you, too,” she whispered and walked back to her work.

Collier signed autographs for the next several hours, and he didn’t even mind. When you’re a star, it comes with the territory. A number of women made some rather brazen suggestions, but Collier turned them all down without regret. All the while, he kept watching Dominique as she busied through her duties, and he realized just how hopelessly in love he’d become.

Many beers were bought for him, perhaps a few too many, but one thought kept his head clear. During his autograph foray, he’d made a decision…

The dinner rush was over. It was going on ten o’clock when Dominique said, “I’m almost done. Just give me a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Collier said.

His phone had finally dried out; the screen read READY.

While Collier waited for Dominique outside the restaurant, he called Shay’s number. When the answering machine came on, Collier left a message that he wouldn’t be returning to the show. II

Collier suggested they walk back to the inn rather than take her car. “I like that,” she said, looking up. “Another full moon. It’s romantic.”

“Of course it is,” he said, but the main reason he wanted to walk was to clear his head some more with the fresh air. And—

He was in no rush to get back to room three.

But at least she’s with me… Was he really that scared now?

“The place really does look spooky at night, doesn’t it?” she said.

They could see the inn atop the hill, darkened to a silhouette by the moon.

“You would say that.”

“Huh?”

Collier laughed at himself. “I’ll be honest with you. Mrs. Butler’s quaint little bed-and-breakfast is really beginning to get to me.”

She squeezed his hand. “You’ve been listening to way too much J.G. Sute.”

“Oh, I know that, and it’s my fault. I’ve reached the saturation point for ghost stories.”

He didn’t tell her of Sute’s final revelations: that of all the atrocities that had taken place there, the very worst had happened in the room he’d just invited her to share. Nor did he tell her of his decision to quit the show.

A wind whipped up, and behind the house the clouds turned bruised. Before they even got to the parking lot, the sky released several loud rumbles.

They both laughed at the coincidence. “Isn’t that fitting?” Dominique said.

“Just what I need. A dark and stormy night.”

“I swear the weathermen flip coins for their forecasts. They said sunny and clear all week.”

Another louder rumble seemed closer. Seconds later, the clouds blacked out the moon entirely.

Collier didn’t like it.

When more wind rustled through the trees, he felt certain he heard a voice call out—“Over here!” or something like that. It sounded like a young girl’s voice.

Dominique slowed and looked down into the woods.

“You heard that voice, didn’t you?”

“What voice?” She seemed to be peering down. “I didn’t hear a voice but…there is a sound coming from down there, don’t you think?”

“There’s a brook that runs along the wood line…”

“Let’s go look at it.”

Collier tensed. “No, that’s crazy. It’s pitch-dark down there now, and it’ll be storming any minute.”

When more wind blew up the hill, Collier thought he heard a dog barking…

Dominique stopped. “What was that?”

“Leaves rustling…”

“Sounded like a dog.”

Collier pulled her by the hand. “Let’s just get inside.”

A belch of thunder cracked, and then the sky ripped. A torrent of rain fell just as they were jogging up the inn’s front steps. Collier felt chilled and sweating at the same time. “Just made it.” He reached for the door.

Dominique tugged his hand. “Hey. Are you all right?”

“Well, yeah, sure—”

“Justin, you’re shaking.”

Was he? “I’ve got…got a chill, that’s all. From the rain.”

She looked convinced when he held the door for her. The last thing he noticed before entering was the great craggy oak tree out front. A whiptail of lightning flashed, tingeing the tree’s dead branches bone white, like malformed skeletal appendages.

Collier pulled the door closed.

The atrium shined bright from all the lights, but that didn’t feel right in the vast room’s emptiness. “It’s not that late,” Dominique observed. “Where are all the guests?”

Collier kept his eyes averted from the large portrait of Hardwood Gast, but it occurred to him then that Gast’s eyes in the painting were looking out directly at the tree from which he’d hanged himself.

A clatter startled them.

Lottie stood in the corner, fiddling with something.

“Hi, Lottie,” Collier greeted.

She looked over, smiled briefly, and waved.

They walked over to find her changing the bag in a vacuum cleaner.

“Are all the guests in bed this early?” Dominique asked.

She shook her head and pointed toward town.

The moment was awkward. Lottie seemed diffuse, not the high-energy nut she usually was.

“Good night, Lottie,” Collier bid.

She waved without looking at them.

“Weird,” Dominique whispered when they moved away.

“Doesn’t seem herself tonight. Usually she’s bouncing

off the walls…”

Dominique stopped again, tugged on Collier’s hand.

She was looking at the old writing table.

Remembering what she saw there during the reception, Collier assumed. A man