Free Nigh - Book 1 by Marie Bilodeau Page A

fine,” she answered absent-mindedly as she
stared at the blood bubbling on her finger. She grabbed her old
stained rag and wrapped it around the wound, holding it tightly to
stop the bleeding. Once the throbbing had subsided, she removed the
rag to have a closer look.
    On the side of her finger, a perfect little set of
holes lined up in two connected semi-circles. Just like a little
jaw.
    “Gruff! We’ve got rats in here!” Gruff stormed out
of the parts room, light spilling in behind him, forming a perfect
halo around his body. She would have laughed if she wasn’t busy
getting off the floor.
    “Where!” He grabbed the wrench from his belt and
slapped it on his left palm.
    Alva nodded toward the bench. Faster than she
thought the six-foot-some, two-hundred-and-eighty-at-least
sixty-something-year-old mechanic could move, he was on his knees.
He grabbed her flashlight and redirected it toward the offender,
moving it around under the bench before standing back up with a
grunt. “Damn bugger’s gone.”
    His eyes lowered to where she still clutched the rag
on her finger, the blood barely distinguishable from the oil
stains. He mumbled and moved, much more slowly, to one of the
workstations, switching on another lamp and pulling out their first
aid kit.
    “Well, this will do,” he said, grabbing a bandage
and a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Alva knew the drill pretty
well. She had apprenticed under Gruff more than seven years ago,
since a high school placement. He’d been bandaging her wounds ever
since.
    Washing her hands carefully, she then dried them
gingerly on a clean towel, tossed it in the laundry basket and
turned, wounded hand towards Gruff.
    Blood trickled lazily from the wound. Gruff smiled.
“Been a while since we’ve done this. Not since you got Big Bertha,
anyway.” Alva grinned and looked toward her tool belt, slung on a
peg on the wall. Her modified wrench, almost two feet longer than a
regular one, hung from it.
    She hissed when he poured the hydrogen peroxide on
the wound, the blood now covered in bubbling white foam. He ripped
open a small alcohol covered swatch and wrapped it around the wound
before Alva could complain.
    “Damn it, Gruff. You’d already used the
peroxide!”
    He grinned. “Can never be too careful.”
    She glared at him as he finished up, pulling the
swab off to examine the wound. His eyebrow shot up. “I ain’t never
seen a bite like this. You said a rat did it?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t see it. But I imagine a rat
did it.” She gave him a crooked grin. “If not a rat, then
what?”
    He bandaged her finger and shook his head. “Well,
rats ain’t good for business, and neither are any other biting
critters. We’ll have to call the exterminators in for the weekend,
just in case. Can’t afford to close the shop for too long – don’t
wanna scare folk back to their swindling dealerships. Let’s call it
a night, Al. You close up here.”
    Alva knew better than to argue. Gruff was a good
man, but he expected his employees, even his favourite one, to fall
in line. He shambled off to the back, banging the cabinets closed
and locking them. Alva turned back to her bench. Might as well put
the watch away. It wasn’t really worth much, with a broken face and
rusted cover, which was why she’d been able to afford it to
practice on. But it was priceless as a learning tool.
    Something caught her eye, a dull silver glow on the
ground. She leaned down and saw, near a drop of her blood, the tiny
gear, in perfect view, as though it had just rolled itself out from
under the bench and now waited for her.
     
    ***
     
    Her key was barely in the lock when Mrs. Gallaway
opened her door. Her wizened eyes peeked left and then right,
sharpening their focus on Alva, her face wrinkling from every
edge.
    “There was someone looking for you, Alva,” she
whispered conspiratorially. “A handsome lad! A gentleman
caller!”
    Alva managed a smile for the old lady’s sake.