Predator and Pray (from html) by Christopher Golden

Author:Christopher Golden [Golden, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

C H A P T E R 9

Jack had been to Newburyport only once before, so it took him several minutes to locate the right street even though Molly gave him directions. She and Artie had often visited the quaint old seaside town, whose well-groomed streets were lined with eighteenth and nineteenth century homes. It was the kind of place that would eventually—probably soon enough—be totally overrun by young executives whose presence would drive the real estate values through the roof. Already it was far from cheap. But it was still the sort of place that felt like a real town, where people knew their neighbors, called the postman and the librarian by name.

As Jack drove through Newburyport, he felt a tug of yearning in him. He could not imagine a time when he would not be helping to run Bridget’s, but a town like this—the old homes, the little restaurants, the parks—it all appealed to him.

Molly had not been able to remember the name of the street but just from her description Jack had vaguely remembered it, so that when he passed it suddenly on his left he recognized it immediately and turned around. The road was lined with cars parked on either side and had more traffic crawling along it than any other spot in town. It sloped down on a gentle curve he knew would eventually lead to a restaurant that sat on a wharf and looked out upon the ocean. There were bars and boutiques and bookstores crammed along both sides of the road, tiny little shops that seemed to be squeezed in too tight on each block. Jack spotted an ice-cream store he remembered as he drove down the street, though many of the storefronts were invisible behind the crush of humanity that strolled up and down the sidewalk.

Jack was grateful that the traffic moved so slowly on that road. He had to bend over the steering wheel slightly to glance at the buildings that passed by on the passenger side. There was supposed to be a small sign that hung out from the side of the building, but if Molly had not told him to be on the lookout for it, he would have driven right by Madame Stefania’s Psychic Studio.

The sidewalk was crowded with ghosts.

Jack hit the brake so quickly that the driver of the car behind him lay on the horn. The windows of the Jeep were rolled all the way down and he heard the man cursing him loudly, but barely registered the words.

There were dozens of them, milling about on the cracked pale concrete sidewalk. Some sat on the three brick steps in front of the door that led to Madame Stefania’s second-floor offices. These phantoms were an odd array of individuals, men and women of varying ages and races, and children as well, many of them clad in styles that were years, even decades out of fashion.

Window shoppers and tourists passed right through them. Young couples with small children

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