A Desolate Hour. Mae Clair

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      She fumbled to locate his room key, spots of color bright on her cheeks. “I’m glad you chose the Parrish Hotel for your stay, Mr. Marsh—uh, Quentin.”

      “No problem.” If he’d wanted lodging in Point Pleasant, there wasn’t a choice. The only other hotels were located across the river in Gallipolis, Ohio. “Any thoughts on where I can grab something to eat?” He sought to deflect the awkwardness they were both currently feeling.

      “That’s an easy one.” The question seemed to help her relax. She pointed across the lobby to a hallway tucked beneath the staircase. “If you follow that hall it connects to the River Café here in the hotel.”

      Quentin nodded, following her direction. Wide and imposing, the staircase sheltered a short hallway beneath it. “Looks like this place has been here for a while.”

      “Since the early 1900s.”

      “Amazing. Did you by chance grow up here?” She might know something about the curse of Cornstalk.

      The woman hedged. “I left Point Pleasant after the Silver Bridge fell and only returned last year.”

      He’d been a kid at the time of the catastrophe, but it had made national news—forty-six lives lost when the bridge connecting Point Pleasant and Gallipolis plunged into the Ohio River a few weeks before Christmas in 1967. “Bad memories?” He had more than a few of his own.

      Her gaze dropped to the registration book where he’d scrawled his name with a flourish on the Q. “My father died in the bridge collapse.”

      “I’m sorry.” Idiot. Now it was his turn to feel stupid. “That was thoughtless of me. Of course, I’ve heard of the tragedy.”

      She managed a wan smile. “I guess we both bungled a few things.”

      “Maybe we should start over.” He held out his hand. “I’m Quentin Marsh.”

      She grinned and accepted. “Eve Flynn. And I believe I owe you a key. You’re in room twenty-eight. Second floor, facing front at the end of the hall.”

      Quentin looked at the ornate skeleton key she passed him. “This is an old place.”

      “Part of the charm.”

      He hoisted his duffel bag. “I’m sure I’ll find that’s the case. Right now, I just want to unpack, then grab something to eat.” The drive had been long, and even with a few stops interspersed along the way, he was overly tired and hungry.

      “My cook does a great beer-battered fish sandwich.”

      “So you own the place?” He should have realized. Small town, family-owned hotel.

      She nodded. “It was built by my great-grandfather Clarence in 1922. Flynn is my married name.”

      She’d be a good source of local information with her family history, but right now he couldn’t wrap his head around the curse, or the promise he’d made to his sister. When he wasn’t coming off an eleven-hour drive, he’d think better.

      “Thanks, Eve.” He gave her a parting smile and headed for the stairs. His family had been cursed for centuries. Waiting another day to get to the bottom of that plague wouldn’t matter. And it certainly wouldn’t change his misfortune.

      Chapter 2

      It was dark, pitch black with heavy cloud cover by the time Caden’s shift ended and he made it home. He parked his Capri along the street and killed the ignition. Lights glowed through the front windows of the large house on Pine Creek Avenue. Eve was still up, probably waiting for him. He would have been home earlier if not for a detour to the TNT. Over the last few months she’d gotten used to his forays into the place. Once an ammunitions site during World War II, the area had been reduced to a labyrinth of abandoned weapons igloos, ponds, wetlands, and the crumbling shells of a few old buildings scattered over 3,600 acres of woodlands.

      Or as most people in the area had come to think of it—the home of the Mothman.

      Caden stepped from the car to the smell of wet asphalt and damp grass. They needed the rain. It had been a dry summer, unusual for a town that sat on the confluence of the Ohio and Kanawha Rivers, and had sustained horrible floods through the decades. Old-timers said those floods had been the curse of Cornstalk in play. Maybe the unusual summer was too.

      “Hey.” He smiled as he stepped through the door, catching sight of Eve on the sofa. She sat with her legs tucked to the side, sipping from a cup he guessed held hot tea. Chamomile by the scent. Her face lit up when she saw him. Within seconds she was across the room, arms wrapped around him to bestow a kiss.

      “Missed you.”

      “Missed you, too.” He kissed her back. Their marriage was just over a month old, both still flush with the glow. “Sorry I’m late.” It was hard being away from her, but she understood the pledge that kept drawing him back to the TNT. Thankful to be home, he set his hat aside and un-holstered his gun. All part of the uniform. The bullets came out before he put the weapon in the drawer of an end table by the door. “I took a drive through the TNT.”

      Eve’s eyes grew wide. “Did you see anything?”

      He shook his head. The creature was lying low. Mothman sightings historically played out in spurts, the most recent last fall. There’d been few reports in between. He’d personally encountered the creature once or twice, but for the most part the thing had gone into hiding. Despite the promise he’d made to Indrid Cold, he hoped it stayed that way. Far better the Mothman keep off the radar.

      “Have a seat and I’ll get you a beer.” Eve motioned to the couch.

      Nodding his thanks, Caden sank into the cushions while she disappeared into the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator snick open and closed. It had to be somewhere after eleven, but he was still wired from work. He’d be rotating off shift soon and could enjoy two days of downtime before going on daylight.

      “We got a new guest at the hotel.” Eve returned with a can of Miller.

      Caden popped the top and took a drink as she settled in beside him. “That Quentin guy you were waiting on?”

      Eve nodded. “Quentin Marsh. He’s not what I expected.” She wrapped her hands around her teacup and leaned against him.

      Hooking an arm around her shoulder, he made room for her to nestle closer. The radio played in the background, something soothing and melodic, likely tuned to the station for her plants. She pampered them as if they were pets.

      “I hope he didn’t show up dressed in black.” Caden wasn’t entirely joking. He took another swig of beer.

      Eve laughed. “No. He’s nothing like the Men in Black from last fall.”

      Point Pleasant had been inundated with mysterious men in black suits who arrived with little explanation, their sole intent to warn anyone who’d claimed to have seen a UFO to be silent. Given the town had experienced a UFO Flap in October, that was close to half the population.

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