My eyes whipped around the darkness as I unconsciously pressed my back against my dead vehicle, scoping out the quiet, barely-lit country road that it had abandoned me to.
‘Who’s out there?’ I called into the inky shadows. ‘I’m warning you, I’m having a really bad night!’
No answer, but my ragged breath. Of course there was no answer, I chided myself. I was being ridiculous. I decided to do something practical and reached in through my driver’s side window to open the bonnet. The engine revealed itself, with a cloud of steam and an awful burning smell.
Choking back tears and a hacking cough (only one of them from the smell), I stumbled a step backwards, almost tripping into a little gully I hadn’t seen off the side of the road.
‘Why didn’t you find a mechanic for a log book servicing in Richmond, I wonder?’ came a silky voice from behind me.
I yelped and whipped around, almost falling in the gully again. A tall, slender man in a black coat stood just behind me, where there had definitely been empty road just a second before.
‘What the—’ I began to stammer, but the man shook his head and held up a single finger. I suddenly found myself unable to speak.
‘No more of that,’ he tutted. ‘Quite a predicament you find yourself in, Mister James…’
He walked past me, a cool air brushing past my shoulder as he got nearer.
‘Your engine is completely dead, it would seem,’ he continued, as if we were chatting amicably on a Sunday stroll. ‘A service would have prevented this, I’m sure – any competent mechanic could have kept you going on your merry way this evening. You even need a brake replacement! Ringwood is an interesting choice, Mister James…’
He chuckled, the sound echoing unnaturally off the still leaves. Hadn’t there been wind a moment ago?
‘How do you know my name?’ I choked out, and he looked up at me, surprised.
‘Interesting,’ he murmured. ‘Very interesting… come with me back to my house, Mister James. I simply have to insist that we have something to drink.’