their names, vary from place to place. Generally, however, they are referred to as Black Dogs, and they are regarded as signs of ill omen when they appear."
"If only it ended there," Victoria said.
James nodded. "Yes, omens are much more easily dismissed, and from what I remember, these creatures will not usually venture beyond the harassment of travelers."
"In the strictest sense, I suppose they didn't go beyond that in my case, either," Victoria said. Part of her couldn't believe she was discussing her parents' death in such a detached, factual manner. Had her heart died somewhere in the weeks since? Perhaps so, but if that was the price she had to pay, she would pay it.
James grunted his agreement and pulled a book from a pile. The movement caused several others to begin sliding off the shelf. He put out a hand to halt the impending disaster. Pushing them back onto the shelf, he tentatively removed his hand. They remained where they were, and he returned to his chair. He began leafing through the book even before he sat down, the pages crackling softly.
"Yes, here we are," he said after a few moments. "This phenomenon has been reported throughout the Isle of Britain for hundreds of years. As I said, they typically don't attack directly, seeming to prefer inducing fear and panic rather than harm. Still, as you so recently discovered, sometimes even that behavior can lead to tragic ends." Turning the page, he continued. "There are accounts of such creatures behaving benevolently, specifically in Somerset, where it is known as Gurt Dog. Not a terribly imaginative name, but only some of these are interesting. Black Shuck and Padfoot seem to be rather prevalent, though not in this area. Still, I suppose they're as good as any listed here and better than most. Shall we refer to these creatures as such?"
"I suppose so, yes," Victoria said, dreading the continuation of what had become a lengthy lecture.
"Far more intriguing a name than, say, Hairy Jack. Now then, you said the creatures that attacked you had yellow eyes?"
"Yes," Victoria said with a nod. Goosebumps rose on her arms and legs at the thought of them. "They looked like storm lanterns or windows in distant houses."
"That does seem to be an oddity, then," James said, adjusting his glasses. "Most accounts report bright red eyes, although they share the luminous quality with your sighting. Always seen at night, too. Some seem to think they are related to storms or other atmospheric phenomena, although sightings are also associated with crossroads, ancient 'spirit' paths, and places of execution. I don't suppose you were near any of those things that night?"
"Not a crossroads, certainly," Victoria replied. "I don't know about spirit paths or places of execution."
"No, of course not. Why would you?" James offered her a rueful smile. "After all, only old oafs like me go in for these sorts of tales. Pretty young ladies such as yourself have more pressing issues to attend."
"My parents no doubt wish I'd paid such matters more heed. They would have liked to see me married off before their deaths, but I would have no part of it."
"No need to torture yourself over it," James said, patting her hand. "What's past is past."
"Had I just listened to them, we may never have gone on that drive." The words tumbled unbidden out of her mouth. "All they talked about was the offer of marriage I had received earlier that week. I intended to refuse it, more out of spite than anything else, I suppose, but they kept trying to persuade me otherwise. I don't suppose it would have been all that bad, really. He wasn't a bad sort, I'd certainly been propositioned by worse men, but I still felt hesitant. I've never liked the thought of marriage, but I should have tried harder."
Realizing what she was saying, Victoria clapped her hand over her mouth. She felt herself turning crimson and looked away. Tears crept into the corners of her eyes, and she brushed them away. She'd gone and made a fool of herself, showing that she still was just a feeble-minded woman after all. James would never help her now.
"I'm sorry," she managed, her voice quiet. She started to stand when she felt a hand on her arm.
"No need to apologize," James said. "Please, sit."
She settled back into the chair with all the dignity she could gather. "I didn't mean to say all that."
"I don't imagine you did," he said, "but sometimes