Rise of the Night Witch

Chapter 3.3 - The Dance's Demon

Recap: Last time, Marissa talked to Simon about Nuckelavees before she saw a goblin watching her. Now, she meets Isa in the library.

"T-there's a monster under my bed, Dad!"

"Monsters aren't real, sweetie."

"How do you know?"

"Because I am here and so long as I am, they will never touch you."

"Mars! Mars!"

I yelped as my cheek rose from our cold school library table. My misty eyes popped open and saw no-one besides Isa sitting near me. This vast, desolate library was defined by Greek, Gothic, and Victorian designs popular in the early 19th century and hopefully only stored mundane knowledge. It wasn't even the silence that crept me out. The silence felt calming, bedroom-like almost. Don't think of such metaphors, Marissa. If you fell asleep here, those creepy crumbling books will fuel your nightmares.

Isa handed me a muffin. "As I said, you need more sugar!"

Isa wore a black (what else?) shirt with "No Pain, No Gain" written on it and wore her hair down for a change, though it wasn't a sign of her being relaxed. Quite the opposite. Her green eyes pierced me with judgment.

"Seriously, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Extracurricular activities."

"Like, what? Anything to do with Simon's sister?"

"Is this a problem?"

"Nah." She folded her arms. "I just feel out of the loop, y'know. Especially since you these days also spend so much time with Simon. Just you and him, alone. Doing stuff I'm not supposed to know about."

"I-it's not what you think it is," I said. "And now I'm spending time with you. Isn't this what matters?"

"You never answer my messages! Anything to do with your nightmares?"

"My-"

Isa yelped like I did when I woke up before. "You do this all the time."

To be honest, even I wasn't sure what caused my nightmares. "I think I'm worried. Lots of bad things happen in this town. You texted me about the death of Devons yourself."

"Yeah."

"Some people say the town is cursed."

"It's definitely cursed." Isa smiled. "But the Night Witch knows counter-courses!"

"How do you know?"

"Dunno. A gut feeling that cheers me up. I get why you're burned out, but if something's eating you, you need to talk. Maybe not with me, but have you tried the school counselor? Or, if your Dad is okay-"

I frowned.

"Oh, well, guess I shouldn't have said this," Isa said.

"It's not your fault," I said and switched the topic. "Have you found out anything about this Klaus Kringle? A few weeks ago, I asked you to-"

As if she had been waiting for this topic the whole time, Isa stood up with no questions asked. From the shelf, she picked up a compilation of old yearbooks from the years 1950-1959. Normally, yearbooks contained details on special events or staff activities, but this compilation was more distilled. It contained pictures and names of every student that graduated that year along with brief notes on newsworthy events.

The graduates for 1958 contained a variety of names. I noted Lukas Weber - because he was my World Issues teachers' granduncle - and Claudia Nutter - the last name sounded funny - but Isa pointed her finger at a man named Peter Tredwell. "He was one of Klaus Kringle's first victims."