Vivian Husker deserved her damned fate.
She was an interfering busybody who should have stayed in Boston. Instead, she came to Cross and included a chapter in her damned book Where to go and what to see in Massachusetts.
The fool even included a map of the town, though thankfully, the place shifts as readily as the weather. Still, she managed to get a few things right, and those are more than enough to cause trouble for us all.
For instance, not only is my farm on the list of places to see but so too is the Old Cross Cemetery and Coffin Farm. The cemetery is bad enough. One misstep and a person might stumble into a ghoul’s home, and some of those beasts don’t always wait for a body to be cold before they start eating.
Placing the Coffin Farm in her book, and including a section on Honor’s Path, well, that was sheer stupidity.
Vivian came back to town a few days ago, you see, and she was letting it be known that she was writing a new edition of her book. One that included a rather detailed portion about not only Honor’s Path but Gods’ Hollow as well.
She even came to me, to me! and had the audacity to ask if I would give her a guided tour of Honor’s Path and then the Hollow.
I told her, through clenched teeth, that I would be most happy to oblige her. She thought of me as though I was some daft idiot, and she promised to pay me handsomely for my trouble. I told her it was no trouble at all.
As we walked to Coffin Farm, I asked her how many copies of her book had been published, and she proudly asserted that two hundred had made their way onto the bookshelves of several prominent Boston shops. The reason she was coming in for a better look, she said proudly, was that there were only a few copies left.
We reached Honor’s Path and Vivian took the lead, and I was more than happy to allow her pride of place.
It did her no good.
They were quick, whatever they were. Faster than I imagined. My reflexes alone saved me from a nasty bite.
Vivian was not so lucky.
She vanished, screaming, beneath the path. I paid her no mind.
I was worried about the number of idiots who would read her book and pay us a visit.