Chapter 9

Dustin let out a shaky breath and willed his stomach to settle. Acidic haunting turned taste buds into traitors and everything from brain to toes felt stuffed with steel wool. Everything except his stomach, which roiled and twisted, flipped and swooned. Heavy curtains held back sunlight that tried valiantly to shift past the fabric, pencil thin rays of brightness that shot like laser beams across the floor. The space was undecorated, yet far from empty. Plain walls were laden with thick shelving that all but buckled with an excess of items too random for reason. Candles, jars, twine, bells, tins, wool and wooden carvings; the room was a magician’s flea market.