Black Raven Inn: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 6) by Rebecca Patrick-Howard Page B
Authors: Rebecca Patrick-Howard
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cruise Broadway and see struggling musicians standing on the street corners with their guitar cases open for change. Now there was a glossiness to all of it, a Hollywood finish that made it all feel like a replica of something else.
It was still her favorite city, though. It was hard to imagine living anywhere else.
As Taryn turned into her parking spot, she groaned with soreness. It had been a long day.
Her building was old and rambling. It creaked and moaned with every stiff breeze and there were smells inside that grew worse with each passing year. But from her bedroom window she could see the Nashville skyline with the Batman building’s ears poking up and at night the lights of the city shone through and sprinkled her floors, making her feel less alone.
That part of Nashville was still hers.
Someone was playing the guitar outside. He could hear the music drift through the thick, rancid air and find its way inside the cramped room where it wrapped itself around him. He was hot and sticky and the stench was making him sick to his stomach but the sound of the music was pure and clean. It cleansed him as it washed over him and, for a moment, he felt unsoiled and alive again.
The moment ended when the musician stopped and the music abruptly departed, leaving him alone and empty again.
His legs jerked, rising briefly from the slick bedspread; he could feel the miniscule insects crawling over them even if he couldn’t see them. In panic, he looked around the room, trying to find something heavy enough to place on them so that they’d stop twitching. He’d have given anything to have someone sit or lay on them–some kind of weight to keep them grounded.
Sweat rolled from his forehead in droplets that pooled under his neck. The pounding in his head was relentless. Moaning, he raked his hands through his wild hair and turned to his side, bringing his knees up to his stomach. A few years before he’d eaten some bad chicken and ended up in the hospital with salmonella. He was sicker than a dog and thought he might die.
This was worse.
While the pain and sickness was bad, though, it was his mind anguished him the most. Heart beating wildly, thoughts a jumbled mess, panic swelling in his stomach–he felt like that moment in a dream when you’re falling and are just about to hit the bottom. Only the sensation never ended.
The phone on the nightstand next to him rang, the shrill sound filling the room and making his legs jump again. He looked at it and considered it but then closed his eyes. The mere thought of lifting the receiver, of talking into it, of trying to form a sentence… It was all too much.
He was a failure. A complete failure. His mother, before she hung herself in the bathroom on the day before his eighteenth birthday, had told him that he wouldn’t amount to anything and she’d been right. He’d failed at everything he had tried. He couldn’t handle the world, couldn’t handle making decisions, couldn’t handle living. It was all too much.
Even the thought of her , with her decency and sweet smile and angelic voice was painful. She’d be sickened to see what he really was inside, to see what was happening to him. He’d fooled her, fooled everyone, for awhile. But this, him writhing on the bed with a puddle of vomit in the floor, was the real him. They’d all see that soon enough.
He had to do something before they did.
Ten
“ H urry it up, Aker, I’m losing daylight ,” Taryn snapped.
As he rounded the corner of the building and saw her standing with her hand on hip, tapping her foot impatiently, he paused and lowered his sunglasses. It was the first time Taryn had seen him without them. His eyes were piercing blue and startlingly unlined.
“I can do my job well or I can do it quickly,” he said, steel lacing his voice.
“I’d rather you did it quickly,” she grumbled but his continued gaze made her redden. “Sorry.”
Ignoring her, he marched to his chair and
It was still her favorite city, though. It was hard to imagine living anywhere else.
As Taryn turned into her parking spot, she groaned with soreness. It had been a long day.
Her building was old and rambling. It creaked and moaned with every stiff breeze and there were smells inside that grew worse with each passing year. But from her bedroom window she could see the Nashville skyline with the Batman building’s ears poking up and at night the lights of the city shone through and sprinkled her floors, making her feel less alone.
That part of Nashville was still hers.
Someone was playing the guitar outside. He could hear the music drift through the thick, rancid air and find its way inside the cramped room where it wrapped itself around him. He was hot and sticky and the stench was making him sick to his stomach but the sound of the music was pure and clean. It cleansed him as it washed over him and, for a moment, he felt unsoiled and alive again.
The moment ended when the musician stopped and the music abruptly departed, leaving him alone and empty again.
His legs jerked, rising briefly from the slick bedspread; he could feel the miniscule insects crawling over them even if he couldn’t see them. In panic, he looked around the room, trying to find something heavy enough to place on them so that they’d stop twitching. He’d have given anything to have someone sit or lay on them–some kind of weight to keep them grounded.
Sweat rolled from his forehead in droplets that pooled under his neck. The pounding in his head was relentless. Moaning, he raked his hands through his wild hair and turned to his side, bringing his knees up to his stomach. A few years before he’d eaten some bad chicken and ended up in the hospital with salmonella. He was sicker than a dog and thought he might die.
This was worse.
While the pain and sickness was bad, though, it was his mind anguished him the most. Heart beating wildly, thoughts a jumbled mess, panic swelling in his stomach–he felt like that moment in a dream when you’re falling and are just about to hit the bottom. Only the sensation never ended.
The phone on the nightstand next to him rang, the shrill sound filling the room and making his legs jump again. He looked at it and considered it but then closed his eyes. The mere thought of lifting the receiver, of talking into it, of trying to form a sentence… It was all too much.
He was a failure. A complete failure. His mother, before she hung herself in the bathroom on the day before his eighteenth birthday, had told him that he wouldn’t amount to anything and she’d been right. He’d failed at everything he had tried. He couldn’t handle the world, couldn’t handle making decisions, couldn’t handle living. It was all too much.
Even the thought of her , with her decency and sweet smile and angelic voice was painful. She’d be sickened to see what he really was inside, to see what was happening to him. He’d fooled her, fooled everyone, for awhile. But this, him writhing on the bed with a puddle of vomit in the floor, was the real him. They’d all see that soon enough.
He had to do something before they did.
Ten
“ H urry it up, Aker, I’m losing daylight ,” Taryn snapped.
As he rounded the corner of the building and saw her standing with her hand on hip, tapping her foot impatiently, he paused and lowered his sunglasses. It was the first time Taryn had seen him without them. His eyes were piercing blue and startlingly unlined.
“I can do my job well or I can do it quickly,” he said, steel lacing his voice.
“I’d rather you did it quickly,” she grumbled but his continued gaze made her redden. “Sorry.”
Ignoring her, he marched to his chair and
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