Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [121]
CANYONS OF NIGHT
Book Three in The Looking Glass Trilogy
The small vehicle was traveling too fast on the narrow, twisted road that snaked along the top of the cliffs. Charlotte Enright heard the insectlike whine of the tiny flash-rock engine behind her and hastily stepped off the pavement onto the relative safety of the shoulder. A moment later, one of the familiar low-powered Vibes that visitors rented to get around on the island careened out of the turn.
The driver hit the brakes, bringing the open-sided buggy to a halt beside her.
“Hey, look what we have here,” the man behind the wheel said to his two passengers. “It’s that weird girl with the glasses who works for that crazy old lady in the antiques store. What are you doing out here all by yourself, Weird Girl?”
There was enough light left in the late summer sky to illuminate the three young men in the car. Charlotte recognized them immediately. They had wandered into Looking Glass Antiques earlier in the day, drawn into the shop not because of an interest in antiques but by the rumors that swirled around her aunt.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to hang out on empty roads like this late at night?” the man in the passenger seat asked.
His voice echoed along the lonely stretch of road that led to the Preserve. The laughter of his two companions sent icy chills through Charlotte. She started walking. She did not look back. Maybe if she ignored the three, they would leave her alone. She quickened her pace, walking faster into the rapidly deepening twilight.
The weird girl with the glasses who works for the crazy old lady in the antiques store. The words might just as well have been emblazoned on her T-shirt, she thought. She was pretty sure that just about everyone on the island, with the exception of her friend Rose, thought of her in exactly those words.
The driver took his foot off the brake and let the Vibe coast slowly alongside Charlotte.
“Don’t run off, Weird Girl,” the one in the passenger seat called out. “We’ve heard that it gets a little strange out here after dark. Guy back at the bar guaranteed us that if we could get into the Preserve on a moonlit night like this we would see ghosts. You’re from around here. Why don’t you show us the sights?”
“Yeah, come on now, be friendly, Weird Girl,” the driver wheedled. “You’re supposed to be nice to tourists.”
Charlotte clutched the flashlight very tightly and kept her gaze fixed on the dark woods at the end of Merton Road.
“We’ll give you a ride,” the driver said, mockingly lecherous. “Come on, get in the car.”
“All we want you to do is show us this place they call the Preserve,” the one in the backseat urged. “From what we’ve seen today, there sure as hell isn’t anything else of interest on this rock.”
Charlotte wondered how the three in the car had found their way all the way out to Merton Road. Only the locals and the summer regulars were aware that the old strip of pavement dead-ended at the border of the private nature conservancy known as the Rainshadow Preserve.
The trio in the Vibe were a familiar species on Rainshadow during the summer months. The type typically arrived on the private yachts and sailboats that crowded the marina on the weekends. They partied heavily all night long in the dockside taverns and restaurants, and when the bars closed down they moved the parties to their boats.
“Come back here, damn it,” the driver ordered. He wore a pastel polo shirt that probably had a designer label stitched inside. His light brown hair had obviously been cut in an expensive salon. “We won’t hurt you. We just want you to give us a tour of the spooky places the guy in the bar told us about.”
“Forget the ugly little bitch, Derek,” the man in the backseat said. “No boobs on her, anyway. Trying to get into this Preserve is a waste of time. Let’s go back to town. I need a drink and some weed.”
“We came all the way out here to see the Preserve,” Derek insisted, his tone turning surly. “I’m