I am so sorry this took forever to appear! Unfortunately family tragedy rather stopped my desire to write anything :( But I'm back now, and this chapter, despite being a little messy in my opinion, is a bit longer to make up for that :) Thank you so much for your kind reviews, I'm so surprised people like it! ;D Things may seem a little unexplained in this chapter, but bear with me and all will be revealed :D
Introduction of a character of my own in this one, I'm no fan of writing in a female love interest for the sake of it, so my OC is male and far from perfect xD Forgive any mistakes, spelling or otherwise. I'm going to edit here and there where it needs it, but I feel I'd like to put it up for you guys! Thanks again, I'll update much sooner next time!
It was two o'clock. Or probably two o'clock. Either suited Mutt down to the ground. So what if he'd skipped his afternoon classes? Everyone did it. He had reason to suspect tired Miss Fitzpatrick had done it back in her youth, so if it was good enough for teachers, it was good enough for the students. He ran over a few excuses in his mind, ones he'd used before here and there for this and that, ones that followed the same general pattern so it was simply a case of stringing verbs and adjectives together and slotting them into the gaps. The 'dog ate my homework' line had backfired at school the first and only time he had used it, as it had prompted suggestions that he had ingested his own assignments.
The wind whipped past, scratching at his face as it hit him, but he welcomed the breeze, he hoped it would slap some sense into him. Weaving almost lazily through the crawling traffic, he read the map he had committed to memory and guided himself home idly. It was just the sun, giving him double vision. He had nothing to worry about. He shrugged his shoulders and relaxed, hoping to melt into the saddle.
The public library. Usually he soared straight past it, engines roaring so as to block the irritable concept of reading and learning. Today however, the bike mounted the sidewalk and grumbled away to itself while its rider contemplated the entrance. Eventually the engines were quietened and it rolled onto a little grass square beside the stone steps that led upwards to the library's gaping maw. The patch of grass, Mutt assured himself, had been laid down just for him. How quaint. He smirked and chained the old girl up, kicking a cloud of spores and dry dirt at the 'keep off the grass' sign.
As embarrassing as it was to be seen surmounting the warm grey steps, Mutt knew what he was looking for. Of course, what ten year old wasn't fascinated and delightfully disturbed by the thought of his domicile being plagued by a hanged woman with a bruised ring around her neck, or the little child who had caught a terrible disease and vomit constantly bubbled from its mouth as a result? Ghosts were the unknown, and the unknown wasn't permitted to be unknown for long.
Mutt shoved a shoulder against the heavy double doors, passing a fellow, his arms laden with books of varying size, and was hit by the cool air that circulated around the cold flagstones, the tall bookshelves and the spiral staircases. Apart from the occasional 'clang clang' of feet ascending those stairs, there was an eerie silence. A muffled cough possibly, over there, and the scraping of a chair here, was the extent of the noise that slid from the quiet.
Rather than sift through chunky volume after chunky volume of books or become lost in the labyrinth of shelves, Mutt straightened his jacket and made straight for the main inquiries desk. A young woman sat behind it, scribbling down notes and flicking through directories. Her bright blonde hair was scraped back into a simple ponytail, and her spindly, spider like frame could have snapped under the weight of a reasonably heavy tome. As Mutt approached her gingerly, she looked up and he was met with a long sharp nose, a small mouth and unblinking eyes.
The journey to the desk appeared to take a lifetime; one foot after the next obviously didn't cut it. When he did arrive before the woman however, he leaned his elbows on the counter and gave her a sharp smile. "Hey, I'm looking for some books…" he began, eyes flicking across the library's expanse.
"I'm sorry we don't have any books." She responded bluntly, peering down her pointed nose at him. She was the type of woman who did not tolerate young men such as the one who stood before her now. Upon noting the young man's reaction to her statement, she sighed. "This is a library, sir. You'll find books here. Was there anything in particular you wanted?" she said curtly, inwardly taking pleasure in thinking he was scouring for the children's section.
"Ghosts?" Mutt tried.
"Ghosts?" she repeated, curling a nostril, "I thought you were looking for some books?"
"Books…about ghosts…" Mutt tried again, wringing his hands. This environment was cold. He felt nothing for it. No passion, no joy. This was not his habitat. The people were spiked and prickly, their spines flying up in defence whenever a creature like himself invaded. They disliked his kind, the drop outs, the leather-clad animals that raced through college grounds without a care in the world for academics. They had heard what stunts he had pulled at Marshall College. They were a different breed.
The woman raised an eyebrow, a pencil streak across pale canvas, and bowed her head, thumbing through her directory. Her silver birch fingers moved deftly across each page, gleaming nails running down through names and information. Mutt meanwhile drummed his fingers on the desk's dark, stained wood and looked about him, locking eyes with one or two bookworm types pouring over their literature. There was a quiet attention seeking cough from the woman and Mutt lazily turned his head to her.
"I'm sorry, but the majority and most reliable of our books on ghosts have been withdrawn. We still have plenty of novels that have-"
"Sorry lady, but I really need to know who has them. I need those books." Mutt replied brusquely, leaning over the desk and looking her straight in the eye, yet hoping to catch a glance at the directory.
"Sir, that information cannot be disclosed to you. You can, however, request them the moment they return…" the woman went on, but Mutt couldn't hear her.
Someone was walking aimlessly towards him. A shimmering, flickering sort of someone. It stopped, as if it had seen him. He tilted his head, puzzled. The ghost creature held out a slim arm, fingers stretched out to him nervously. Mutt could just about see the ghost's face, and it mirrored his own. Confusion. Mutt lifted a hand to it and the moment the tips of their fingers touched, the ghost recoiled with a gasp and fell backwards, scrambling away before fading completely. Mutt blinked and turned back to the woman, who was still talking yet seemed a little baffled by his strange antics. Mutt ran his hands down his face and looked at her. "Lady, I'm sorry to leave you hanging but I really gotta go. Thanks though, you've been a real help!" he said after regaining his composure and with that he ran briskly to the exit, leaving the woman to wonder whether his parting words were of a sarcastic tone or not, and she would ponder on it for the rest of the day.
Outside, Mutt stood at the top of the steps, the sun idly pouring down its afternoon rays. He shook his head and banished all thoughts on what had happened from his mind for now. Sitting on the bottom step was the man he had passed on the way in, the one with his own mass in books weighing down his arms. Mutt breathed a laugh. The guy looked pathetic even from the back. He descended the steps; glad his mind had something else to think about, when he happened to glance down to one of the books the other had dropped.
Ghosts and Haunted Places.
The man's hand suddenly obscured the cover and lettering as he proceeded to pick it up, and he looked at the young man stooped over him with eyes as wide as dinner plates.
'Ha! Yes!" Mutt exclaimed, relieved that whoever didn't much like him up there had taken a sudden shining to him. The man, whose nose was merrily bleeding and enjoying itself dripping blood from his chin, frowned and tightened his jaw.
"Oh yes, it's hilarious isn't it?" he uttered, piling 'Ghosts and Haunted Places' on top of his extensive collection. Mutt couldn't lose this guy. He was the one who had the largest collection of non-fiction on ghosts for a fifty mile radius, it seemed. Immediately he crouched and picked up a couple of fallen books next to his boot and handed them to the other. Mutt studied his face. He had a long nose and an untameable sort of dark hair that could do what it liked yet still look presentable. His brown eyes looked tired, more so than his face suggested. He was barely a decade older than Mutt. The man ran his hand, frustrated, across his face in an attempt to tidy himself up and continued to fume silently.
"What happened?" Mutt asked, trying to slip concern into his tone.
"What do you think? You people, do you get some sort of kick out of terrorising everything that moves?" the man snapped, his accent British, and Queen's English at that. Mutt nearly took a step back, but he stood fast.
"Hey man, look, I didn't hit you or run you over or whatever happened. Just trying to help. It's kinda funny…"
"What is?" the Englishman replied, dejectedly.
Mutt picked up the last book and held it out to him, his smile confident. "Don't judge a book by its cover."
"Quite. I apologise." The other stated blandly, taking the book warily. He stood up, his arms full of books once again, and carefully made his way down the steps, leaving Mutt turning over options in his mind. He needed those books. He needed some serious fact, rather than his mother's guessed ones or his teacher's excuses in order to send him on his way. Books didn't have opinions, or voices, or feelings. He could do what he liked with them. He wondered why bullies didn't pick on them more often. He watched the man clamber into a car and dump the books on the back seat. It took a few seconds for it to click in Mutt's mind, but when it did; his bike was released from its chain, the engines flared up, impatient, and the chase began.
