Chapter 4: Warning Signs

The days following her encounter with Alexander Thorne passed in a blur of restless thoughts and unanswered questions. Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling of his presence, like a shadow that clung to her even in the brightest daylight. She found herself replaying their conversation at the café over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every subtle shift in his expression. There was something about him—something dark and magnetic—that she couldn’t quite understand. And the more she tried to forget, the more he seemed to pull her back in.

Evelyn’s curiosity was a curse, or so she’d often been told. She had always been drawn to the unexplained, to the mysteries that others would rather leave untouched. But in Black Hollow, a place shrouded in secrets and steeped in superstition, that curiosity might prove to be her undoing.

One afternoon, as she was finishing her shift at The Hollow’s Nook, she noticed a group of locals gathered in a far corner of the bookstore. They were regulars—older women who came in for the gossip as much as the books, their voices low and heads bent together in hushed conversation. Evelyn couldn’t help but overhear snippets of their talk as she restocked a nearby shelf.

“…saw him again last night, prowling near the old church…” one of them whispered.

“Alexander Thorne, you mean?” another asked, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and fascination.

“Who else?” the first woman replied, her tone sharp. “There’s no one else like him in Black Hollow, thank God.”

Evelyn’s hand hesitated over a stack of books, her ears pricking up at the mention of his name. She tried to focus on her task, but her mind was drawn to their conversation like a moth to a flame.

“Do you think it’s true?” a third woman asked, her voice trembling. “What they say about him? About what happened to his parents?”

“True or not,” the second woman said with a grim nod, “nothing good ever comes from getting involved with him. Just ask poor Mary Ellis. God rest her soul.”

Evelyn’s heart quickened. She had heard the name Mary Ellis before, whispered in the same hushed tones by other townsfolk. The woman had disappeared from Black Hollow years ago, and though no body had ever been found, everyone had assumed she was dead. She’d been a local beauty, they said, someone who’d caught the eye of the infamous Alexander Thorne. And soon after, she had vanished like a puff of smoke.

“They never did find her, did they?” the third woman continued, her voice barely a murmur. “And there were others, too. Women who got too close.”

“That’s why I always say, best to keep your distance from that one,” the first woman muttered. “There’s a darkness in him. You can see it in his eyes. Some say he’s cursed.”

Evelyn felt a chill run down her spine, but it wasn’t fear—it was something else. The more she listened, the more she felt that familiar pull of curiosity deep within her, tugging her toward the dark mystery of Alexander Thorne. She knew she should heed their warnings, that there was probably truth in their words. But instead, she found herself wondering what exactly had happened to Mary Ellis, and what kind of secrets Alexander was hiding behind those dark, inscrutable eyes.

The bell above the door jingled, pulling Evelyn from her thoughts. She turned to see Mr. Henderson, one of the town’s older residents, shuffling in. He was a wiry man with a thin, weathered face and eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He was known for being a bit of a recluse, but also for his keen memory and his habit of lingering in places like the bookstore, where gossip flowed freely.

He gave Evelyn a nod as he approached the counter, setting down a few dog-eared paperbacks. “Afternoon, Miss Hayes,” he greeted, his voice rough like gravel. “How are you settling in?”

Evelyn managed a polite smile. “Quite well, thank you. Just getting to know the town a bit more each day.”

He nodded, his gaze sharp. “This town has a way of revealing itself, piece by piece. Sometimes it’s better not to know too much.”

She sensed a deeper meaning in his words and decided to probe. “I’ve been hearing a lot about Alexander Thorne,” she said casually, watching for his reaction. “It seems like everyone has an opinion about him.”

Mr. Henderson’s expression darkened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Thorne’s been trouble since the day he was born. That family’s always been strange, but he’s a different breed. There’ve been… incidents. Things you don’t want to get mixed up in.”

“What kind of incidents?” Evelyn asked, trying to keep her tone light.

He hesitated, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening. “Strange things. People disappearing. Animals found dead, drained of blood. And always, he’s somewhere close by when it happens. Some say he’s dabbling in things better left alone.”

“Like what?” Evelyn pressed, her heart beating a little faster. She could feel the weight of his words, the hint of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“Witchcraft,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing. “Or worse. I’ve seen him at night, wandering the woods by the old graveyard, where no decent person has any business being. And those who’ve crossed him… well, they’ve paid for it.”

Evelyn’s skin prickled with unease, but instead of being deterred, she felt her curiosity flare even hotter. She’d heard these kinds of stories before, in other towns, about other people. She knew how easily rumors could spiral out of control, how fear could twist the truth into something monstrous. But there was something about the way Mr. Henderson spoke, the gravity in his voice, that made her pause.

“What about the women?” she asked softly. “The ones who got close to him?”

Mr. Henderson’s face tightened. “Mary Ellis wasn’t the first, and she won’t be the last. You listen to me, girl—keep your distance from that one. Nothing good ever comes from those who get too close.”

Evelyn nodded, murmuring her thanks, but as she watched him leave, her mind was already racing. She knew she should let it go, should listen to the warnings and steer clear of Alexander Thorne. But that wasn’t who she was. She’d never been the type to back away from a mystery, no matter how dark it seemed. And Alexander was a puzzle she was determined to solve.

The rest of her shift passed slowly, the words of the townsfolk echoing in her mind like a distant drumbeat. As the last customer left and the shop grew quiet, she found herself staring out the window, watching the fading light of day as it cast long shadows over the cobblestone streets. The world outside felt heavy, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Mrs. Abernathy came out from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. She gave Evelyn a sharp look. “I heard the old hens clucking earlier,” she said, her tone brusque. “I suppose they’ve been filling your head with stories.”

Evelyn shrugged, trying to play it off. “People love to gossip.”

“Yes, they do,” Mrs. Abernathy said, her gaze piercing. “But there’s usually a kernel of truth in every tale. You’d do well to remember that, girl.”

Evelyn met her gaze steadily. “Do you believe them? About Alexander?”

The old woman’s face softened slightly, and she sighed. “I’ve lived in this town a long time. Seen a lot of things come and go. Alexander Thorne… he’s a troubled soul, no doubt about it. But whether he’s dangerous or just misunderstood, I couldn’t say. Maybe both.”

Evelyn nodded, absorbing her words. She could sense that Mrs. Abernathy knew more than she was letting on, but the older woman wasn’t one to spill secrets lightly. She’d have to tread carefully if she wanted to learn more.

As she closed up the shop and stepped out into the cool evening air, Evelyn felt a strange mixture of dread and anticipation settle over her. The sky was a deep, bruised purple, the last rays of the sun disappearing behind the hills that surrounded Black Hollow. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and started walking, her footsteps echoing against the cobblestones.

She knew what she needed to do. If she was going to understand the truth about Alexander Thorne, she needed to go beyond the whispers and rumors. She needed to see for herself who he really was, to look into those dark eyes and find the man behind the mask.

And so, instead of turning toward her cottage, she found herself heading in the opposite direction, toward the old part of town where the streets were narrower and the shadows longer. Toward the place where Alexander Thorne was rumored to live, alone in his crumbling estate on the hill.

As she walked, the warning signs flashed in her mind like beacons, telling her to turn back, to stay safe. But Evelyn Hayes had never been one to heed warnings. She was already in too deep, and there was no turning back now.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***