Again I want to express my thanks to everyone that helped me in getting this story ready. I hope you enjoy the story.

In this chapter Atalanta meets a new friend.

Chapter 2

Outside, I walked towards town far enough to be reasonably out of sight and called the first number, “Crescent Cab.”
I told him where I was and he said that he was on his way.

“Where to miss?” the cab driver asked me from the driver’s seat after he had stored my luggage in the trunk.

“You know of any sporting goods stores around here?” I inquired.

He nodded putting the car in gear and accelerating onto the road. As we sped along the two-lane main street I suddenly yelled: “Stop!”

“Where?” he inquired braking the car.

“There.” I pointed at a stone and wood structure set apart from its neighbors. From a distance the building's front porch provided the inhabitants with privacy with stone pillars. The house was crisscrossed with intersecting roof lines containing numerous alcoves.

What caught my attention was the business name in giant lettering across the front; “The Owls Nest,” and a picture of Harvard or his twin rising toward the 60 foot stone tower topped with a conical roof. The rectangular windows, taller than wide and trimmed in white reminded me of a birdhouse.

After we stopped I studied the structure from outside the car before saying, “It looks … different.”

“It is,” he agreed, “some recluse built it years ago, to get away from the rat race, I guess. It stayed empty for years after he died; some say because it was haunted.”

“Is it,” I asked mildly.

“You couldn’t prove it by me,” he replied, adding, “I figured it was because nobody knew what to do with it.”

“And the new owner,” I prompted staring at the building; resisting the pull I felt.

“She bought it a couple of months ago and began renovations soon after. She just opened a couple of weeks ago.”

Up close the sign read, “Owls Nest: Metaphysical and Bookstore.”

“I shouldn’t be long, keep the meter running” I stated closing the car door.

“I’ll be here.”

Walking up the steps I felt a strong sense of déjà vu that was odd because I knew I had never, even from pictures, seen a structure to match this one.

Once inside I stopped to examine the room. Across the front and on my left housed in glass casing beneath the counter were metaphysical supplies, as was the back wall. In between were aisles of books. Various large, fat, candles dribbling wax in the wall sconces behind the counter helped to reinforce the occult theme.

I turned my attention to the tasseled curtains that admitted one of the most beautiful women in the world.

No, it was not Cindy Crawford!

I grinned to myself at that thought. She was as tall as me and her long, blonde, golden hair that hung in waves over her shoulder was coiffured; held in place with pins whose designs reminded me of some mythological creatures. She was dressed in sandals and a short sleeved mid length tunic of white silks. Her jewelry sparkled in the candlelight.
She seemed strangely familiar yet I couldn’t place her.

“Welcome, welcome, milady,” her voice lilting in tune with some unknown melody, “How may I assist you?”

I blinked in surprise at her choice of words and speech pattern. “I don’t know,” I admitted, “I felt I had to stop and come in here and look around. I guess it was the picture of the owl that did it.”

“Ah,” she intoned, “the messenger of the gods.”

“I guess so but I recently had an experience with an owl.”

“Tell me about that.” Not knowing why, and against my better judgment, I did.

“Harvard,” she questioned after I finished my tale, “whatever possessed you to use that name?”

Grinning foolishly I replied, “Can’t say I was possessed, but the name and the idea did come from out of the blue. Harvard was a smart bird and Harvard University is thought to graduate smart people. It seemed right at the time.”

Rolling the name over her tongue she replied, “Harvard, I like that name and very appropriate for a bookstore don’t you agree.”

“Yes it does,” I agreed.

“You don’t mind if I use it for my logo.”

“I don’t mind at all and I’m sure Harvard would be honored.”

“Good that’s settled and I have a gift for you in return,” she returned, walking to a shelf and handing me a thin paperback book with a red jacket and a warrior pictured with drawn bow and notched arrow, “The Art of War” by Sun Tzu.

“War,” I mumbled.

“Yes, ‘The Art of War’ written some 3,000 years ago and contained in its pages is wisdom far beyond mere warfare. Read it and absorb its teachings and you will the richer for it.”

Thank you Miss,”

“You may call me Audhilde, Atalanta.”

I didn’t remember telling her my name. She took my hand and led me to the front, pointing through the widows at the room on top of the tower and said, “That is the Owls Nest, a room to study, meditate, read, observe, or rest. You can access it through that door,” she pointed to a solid wood door located inside a small overhang, “ it also has a door outside that leads up,” She continued pressing a key in my hand, “this key fits that door. It is yours; use it at anytime-day or night. Just keep the door locked at all times.”

She quieted my protest, “You better get going; you have a lot to do, we’ll talk later.”

She was right I did, “Thank you, Audhilde.”

“You’re welcome … Atalanta.”

I don’t know why, but I had a strong feeling I could trust Audhilde.

Outside I breathed out a sigh, clutching the book and key tightly I walked quickly to my cab where we left to find the sporting goods store and from there to a grocer.

From there we drove to an outfitters ranch where I bought three horses and tack supplies. The ranch owner and the cab driver helped me pack my gear on the horses.

Out of earshot of the owner I paid the driver and tipped him an extra hundred for his silence.

After the cab left, I asked the owner if he would load the horses and drive us to just before where the railroad came into town. He agreed and we quickly loaded the animals on his trailer and soon were parked at a turning place a mile or so out of Dunwich.

I paid him for his service and as I did I said, “I’d appreciate it if you forgot you saw me.”

“This is dangerous country, especially with winter coming on and the wild animals we have here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I replied adding, “and I promise not to hurt your wild animals.”

“Nevertheless, I’d feel better if you put my number in your phone in case you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I replied, doing as he wished. I waited until he vanished from site before finding a secluded place to hobble my horses and then jogged back to the depot. Keeping to the trees I gained the rear lot unseen, and placing my ear to the shed was relieved to hear stirrings coming from inside. Crossing to the van, I replaced the key in the ignition, before running lightly to the car the three mercenaries arrived in, to find them awake and struggling with their bindings.
They quieted when they saw me but squirmed as I brought a chloroform saturated cloth to their faces. Thankful for the contents of their medical kits, I got in the driver’s side and quickly drove off towards Berlin, stopping where my horses were and unloading the trunk’s contents. From there I drove the car and left it up a logging road a few hundred feet past where my horses were hobbled.

Opening the rear door and leaning in I listened for their steady breathing before cutting one man’s bindings and leaving a note to where he could find the car keys. I ran to where I left the horses and the arsenal, loading it on the third horse quickly.

I had about thirty-maybe forty-five minutes of daylight left to find a camping spot for tonight in a wilderness I knew nothing about. Nevertheless, I turned the horses, traveling downhill to where I hoped the Miskatonic River ran.