Headlights(49)

After a minute, she says, “I keep telling her not to—my daughter, she’s into scary stuff. Watches horror movies with her dad. I keep telling her it’s gonna scare the neighbors, drawing this stuff. But these neighborhood kids like to make up stories, scare each other.”

“The kids here made this creature up?”

“I think so. Or maybe the ones at school. Hard to tell where these things come from, they always spread so fast.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Oh. Um, it’s just a silly thing.”

“Does it have a name?”

She looks uncomfortable, like she doesn’t want to answer. “It’s not real,” she says. “Obviously.”

I wait.

And finally, she sighs, a little girl stepping out the front door behind her.

“They call it a Witchwalker.”





14



We pull out of Rock Creek listening to another paranormal podcast. Tillman’s eyes fixed on the skies.

I say, “Have you heard of something called a Witchwalker?”

He blinks. “No, what is that?”

“Oh, um … maybe like. What do you know about, uh, creatures. Like paranormal—”

“Cryptids?” he says.

“Yeah, maybe. What do you know about those?”

Tillman turns to me, incredulous. “Are you telling me that Daniel Stansfield is asking about a paranormal phenomenon? On day three? I was thinkin’ it was gonna take at least—”

“Tillman.”

“Sheesh, buddy, okay. All jokes aside, it’s a big topic. Lots of different kinds, you know?”

“Well, what are they?”

“What are cryptids? I think the overarching definition would probably be creatures whose existence isn’t totally substantiated. You know, like, Bigfoot, Mothman. There are different schools of thought, but what I personally believe is that cryptids are creatures who are trapped between worlds. Or who accidentally stumbled into ours from theirs. And that’s why we can’t see ’em all the time.”

“Otherworld creatures.”

“Yeah. And we’re just so fixed and linear in our thought processes we really can’t get our brains around it, but I think there’s more here than just here. And if there are multiple universes or realities kind of occupying the same space or sitting on top of each other, maybe sometimes a hole gets torn, or a piece gets worn down, and then … things are just open and start to move freely between worlds that otherwise wouldn’t.”

I take a long breath, blow it out as we pass fast food chains, grocery chains, fitness chains. Red, brown, beige. This was a stupid train of thought, stupid question.

“Is it possible they’re just … not real?”

“’Course. But why are you asking?”

“What did Mona Brown say?” I ask. I see Tillman debate pressing the topic.

Instead, he leans against the passenger door to get a better upward view of the sky. “You went and interviewed Everett after I did,” he says.

No use denying what he already knows. “Yeah,” I say.

He nods. “I don’t wanna jump to conclusions, we should check the chat room transcripts again. But … I think I know why he’s lying about logging in.”

“Why? What did she say?”

“I should rephrase. I suspect that Everett doesn’t know he is lying. CanisLoopus has been logging in to those chat rooms and putting a like on every post by Wizdumteller for years. But I think it’s her. Mona logging on for a long time in Everett’s place. And I don’t think she knows who Wizdumteller is, but I think she’s kind of … in love with them. Something like that.”

“In love with them.”

“Yeah, I mean. You’ll hear it. Worshipful, maybe.”

“Hm.”

“You know, the sort of can’t stop thinkin’ about you, keeps me up all night kind of tone. You know? Like … reverent. Obsessed.”

I keep myself from tensing at that word. Obsessed. Don’t know why I want to.

Hannah Lawrence’s card in my pocket.

Hannah Lawrence in my dream.

I clear my throat, shift in my seat.

“She’s gonna leave Everett, I think,” Tillman says.

“How’d you get that?”

“She said she’s been wanting a fresh start for a while. This was the final straw I guess.”

“Did she admit to logging on in Everett’s place in the chat room?” I ask.

He tilts his head from side to side in a way that means kind of. “You can listen to the recording,” he says. “But I think figuring out who Wizdumteller is is where we put our attention. Maybe Oliver Wright too. They’re both influential. Might have the means to get people to do things for them. I mean, shit, they could be the same person.”

“But she didn’t give any sort of indication that she knows who it is? No direction for where to start?”

He looks up again, then back to the road. “My brother’s an actor,” he says. “Lives out in New York, does plays, the whole thing. And he told me there’s this school of thought that instead of being focused on something—say, your scene partner—you should have your attention open. Because when you’re focused on something, you’re limiting what you can see. But if you have your attention open, you pick up on all these other things you wouldn’t catch otherwise. And I don’t really understand acting, but when he said it, it made me think of UFOs. You let yourself be open, have your attention on the sky, rather than focusing on wanting to see something. You just sort of tune in to this open field, this specific frequency, and just observe. That’s when you see things you can’t see otherwise.”