Demons in My Driveway by R.L. Naquin

Author:R.L. Naquin [R.L. Naquin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Teen Paranormal
Goodreads: 17657026
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2014-10-20T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Aggie, of course, was waiting for us at the gate. “My girls! What a wonderful day, both of you here for a visit.” She hugged us, one with each arm, then ushered us inside, leaving Riley and Darius outside to keep watch.

What they were watching for, I wasn’t sure, but Aggie sent me out with a plate of cookies and mugs of hot cocoa to keep them busy.

“Seriously, guys.” I set the tray on a small table under a tree. “You don’t have to stay. We’ll call you when we’re done. I promise.”

Both men glanced at me, stuffed cookies into their mouths and said nothing.

“Fine. But it’s freezing out here. Not my fault if you get cold.”

They shrugged and continued to chew. I appreciated their need to be big strong men protecting their women—though Riley and I weren’t together. To me, it wasn’t that they viewed us as weak and vulnerable so much as they viewed themselves as failures if they couldn’t do their jobs. I tried not to roll my eyes as I went inside.

If freezing their manly asses off made them feel more in control of a situation nobody had any control over, who was I to take that away from them? At least they got cookies and hot chocolate.

Mom and Aggie were already in the living room. All the books on the far left belonged to Mom, and she stood with a mug of cocoa in one hand, her other hand running over the dusty spines of cracked leather and fraying cloth. An idyllic smile played across her lips as she browsed.

It struck me how much she must have missed this collection during the twenty years she’d lived mostly alone in a cottage in the woods in far off New Hampshire. Mom lost a lot when she went away—her books, her friends, her home. Dad and I weren’t the only thing she’d given up. I hadn’t truly considered how lonely and isolated she must have felt.

Aggie—nearly identical to my mother in facial expression—stood across the room pulling what looked like random books from the shelves and placing them in a pile on the table next to her.

Most of the books had indecipherable titles, either because the ink had worn off or the language was foreign. Aggie had a gift, though. Books sort of spoke to her. She knew which ones had the best chances of giving up the information we needed.

I knew nothing. If I tried to search their crazy library, I’d be yanking books for no good reason and would likely find myself reading about the care and feeding of the long-extinct seven-toed winged seacamel of Barbados.

Aggie turned her head toward me, smiled, and handed me a tome covered in torn green silk that smelled like it had been rescued from a fire. The title was singed away.

“Check in here,” Aggie said. “I have a good feeling about it.”

I plopped into the chair next to her pile of research material, prepared for an afternoon of skimming through ancient texts.

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