undies went on super quick, too. It was as I reached for my trackpants that the lamp went out.
It would have been pitch-black if not for the ceiling. Once more, I was glad I’d invested in the time and luminescent paint. The glowing lines and symbols soothed me. It allowed me to take a calming breath, and I reminded myself that the cottage was a safe place. So long as I remained inside, nothing could hurt me. Unless there was a fire…
Why, oh, why did I think of that?
No fire. Positive thoughts. But just in case, I finished dressing. My pants went on just as something thumped the roof.
I glanced up. Probably a bird.
Thud.
A giant bird.
Or a bat…
Wait, didn’t bats like to roost upside down?
Pitter. Patter.
“Let’s get at ‘er.”
I might have imagined the last part as I stared round-eyed at the ceiling. I’d lived here months at this point and had never heard a thing.
Thud. Thump.
More and more things landed and walked, waddled, scrabbled. I imagined so many things happening up there. Perhaps it was a migratory thing. A flock of birds, late for their flight down south, stopping on my roof for a breather before finishing their trip.
I imagined giant geese, the mean Canadian kind with teeth inside their beaks and claws on their webbed toes.
“I am being irrational again,” I muttered to myself. I shoved my feet inside my slippers and shuffled away from my dresser.
Tap. It sounded as if something knocked on the window.
Ignore it. Sound advice. If I didn’t look, I couldn’t scare myself.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rapid-fire pings against my glass refused to be ignored. It didn’t help that the window was at least ten feet off the ground, making it almost impossible for anything to be knocking.
I peeked. I really wished I hadn’t, as I saw the beak of something that might have been a bird, with reptilian-type skin and eyes, the slit of them unblinking as it stared at me through the glass and tapped harder.
It couldn’t get inside. Perfectly safe. At the reminder, I hugged myself.
Crack.
The glass showed a hairline fracture, the tiniest of lines, and yet I shivered.
Oh. No.
The creature pulled back its beak and got ready to smack the window again.
Time to get out of here. I fled for the stairs, grabbing and pulling over the rarely used hatch to my attic bedroom. It thumped down and blocked me from my room. Just in time. I heard the falling shards of glass, the squawk as the bird-reptile thing burst inside.
There wasn’t a latch on this side; however, I doubted the creature could lift the heavy trap door. I had it contained. I’d have to call pest control. Which reminded me, I’d left my dead phone in the bathroom. Forget calling anyone to remove the creature. Heck, forget getting anyone to come over and keep me company. Looked like I was stuck here until Winnie got home unless I wanted to drive somewhere.
For a brief moment, I thought of Jace with his axe. He could probably give me a hand with my bedroom-invasion problem, but that would involve going outside, at night… What if that thing had friends?
With a sigh, I headed down the stairs. The lack of light extended to the main floor. The only illumination came from the pale moonlight streaming through the windows. I kind of wished I’d drawn the drapes, reducing my exposure. What if those things on the roof realized there was more than one way to get in?
While not a person who believed in violence or firearms, I could have really used a gun about now.
A chill gripped me, which was odd. I’d started the wood stove before going upstairs, yet passing by its fat metal belly, I didn’t feel any kind of heat pulsing from it. I’d obviously screwed up. I’d have to start over.
Fetching wood for the stove meant passing close to a window to reach the pile stacked under it. Keeping an eye on the glass, I reached and grabbed a few pieces. Nothing appeared to yell boo. My panties remained dry.
I tried to find the logic and reminded myself it was probably just a fluke some creature came inside upstairs. Animals didn’t break into people’s houses. Unless they were bears. Bears went wherever they liked.
The thing upstairs wasn’t a bear, not even a vicious honey badger, but some kind of ugly bird. Maybe it was the roasting kind.
Ha. As if I had the guts to shoot and skin my own dinner. The