Outcast (Moonlight Wolves Book 4) by Jasmine B. Waters (21)

Book 2: The Ritual

Chapter One

Elizabeth – Present Day

You know that moment right before you wake up, when you’re almost still dreaming? You can see the light and the shadows playing in front of your eyelids, and you’re warm and wrapped up and comfortable?

Sometimes, I wished I could stay like that forever. It sounds crazy. Even I know that. But sometimes, I can’t shake the thought of how much I want to disappear from the world.

When I keep feeling like that for more than a few minutes, the guilt starts to seep in. ‘I have a great life,’ I think. ‘I shouldn’t want to escape from everything.’

But I can’t help myself. That’s part of being human.

The morning after my twenty-second birthday, I was in one of those moods. Spring had come early, and the windows were open. A fresh breeze was blowing in, the kind that we normally wouldn’t get until much later in the season. Steven or Karen or someone had done laundry that week, and the duvet still smelled like fresh cotton. ‘This is heaven,’ I thought as I nuzzled the pillow, refusing to open my eyes. ‘I wish I never had to get up.’

The second that thought flashed through my head, the bedroom door opened with the same creak as always. We lived in an old house, and the wood was always swelling and bloating with the change of the seasons.

“Morning, beautiful.” Steven’s voice was raspy. The pillow next to me was cool, but I could tell that he hadn’t been awake for long.

I yawned, covering my mouth with both hands and rubbed my eyes.

“You gotta stop doing that, babe,” Steven said. He reached for my hands and held them tightly in his own. “You’re gonna ruin the skin around your eyes.”

I snorted. “Come on,” I said. “I’m only twenty-one. Don’t you think I have a few years left to worry about that?”

Steven snickered. I felt the bed shifting with his weight as he leaned over and kissed my forehead. He smelled good – musky, but in a clean way. Almost like sandalwood.

“You’re twenty-two,” Steven said. He tapped the tip of my nose with his finger. “Or did you forget that, too?”

I opened my eyes and laughed. Already, the desire to vanish into half-sleep for eternity was starting to fade and seem ridiculous. It always did when I was around people. Whenever I had to make conversation or think about the real world, I couldn’t disappear inside my subconscious.

“I remember,” I groaned as I sat up in bed and yawned again, stretching my arms over my head.

Steven shook his head. “You still sleep like a kid, though.” He snorted. “That was some storm we had last night. You hear that?”

I shook my head and frowned. “What storm?”

“It was huge,” Steven said. He ran his hands through his thick, brown hair. “Thunder and lightning. Shit, I think there was hail.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

I blinked. “Wow! I must have really been out.”

Steven nodded. “Six cocktails before dinner will do that to ya,” he said. He pulled me into a clumsy embrace, rubbing my back with one of his oversized hands. “How ya feelin’, kid?”

I licked my lips and swallowed. “Hungover.” Actually, until I said that, I hadn’t been feeling particularly bad. But now that I was sitting up in bed, my head ached like it was filled with wet cement. My lips and tongue were dry and papery, and I was so thirsty that my gut was cramped and twisted.

“Poor kid.” Steven handed me a cup of water. “I put this here last night, but you didn’t even wake up.”

I drank greedily until my stomach felt like it would burst. Burping softly, I wiped my lips and handed the cup back to Steven.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Steven flashed a big grin toward me. “Because I have a plan for today.”

“You do?” I frowned. “I have to study, remember? The GRE is next week.”

Steven looked guilty. “So, I may have done something about that,” he said uneasily. He shifted forward and crossed his fingers in his lap. “Remember how you told me the other day that you weren’t sure if you’d be ready by next week?”

I nodded.

“Well, I called the board and rescheduled your test for next month. I know your internship is over in a couple of weeks, and since I’m making more now, I thought you could use the extra free time to study.”

My jaw dropped. “Steven!” I grinned. “I can’t believe you did that!” I shook my head and laughed. “I know that should probably piss me off, but I don’t care. Wow. Best birthday present ever. Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

Steven shrugged. His face lit up with a shy smile – the kind I hadn’t actually seen in years. All of a sudden, I was fifteen years old again.

“You look happy,” Steven said. He grinned, and all traces of the adolescent gawkiness disappeared.

“I am,” I said. “Why, do I normally not look like it?”

Steven opened his mouth and then shrugged. “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” he said. “But I bet when you get into grad school and really get settled, things will be easier.”

I bit my lip. “I hope you’re right.”

“Anyway, get dressed,” Steven said. He stretched and bounded off the bed in a single fluid motion. “Wear something comfortable,” he said with a wink.

I giggled. “I can’t believe you’re trying to surprise me,” I said. “This is so not like you!”

Steven flashed me a grin before walking into the hall. “I know, babe,” he said. “See you soon.”

When I was alone again, I yawned and rubbed my eyes. My little moment of selfish escapism had passed, and I was already starting to emerge from the fog of my hangover. At twenty-two, I wasn’t exactly old. ‘Still,’ I thought weakly as I climbed out of bed, ‘really shouldn’t be pounding tequila whenever I have the chance.’

Remembering Steven’s advice on dressing comfortably, I pulled on my favorite distressed-boyfriend jeans and a flowy peasant top that hung off one shoulder. I grabbed a jacket – spring in New Hampshire feels like a warm version of winter, even on sunny days – and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Downstairs, I found Steven and Karen sitting at the table together. Steven was sipping coffee and glancing down at the news on his tablet. I laughed, and he looked up.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said, sliding into an empty chair. “You just look so much like a teacher right now. It’s funny.”

Steven smirked. “I am a teacher,” he said smugly. “At least, I like to think so.”

“Hey, Elizabeth,” Karen said. “I made bacon. Want some?”

My stomach rumbled, and I nodded. Karen passed me a plate loaded with greasy slices, and I grabbed a few. The salty, savory taste spread through my mouth, and I closed my eyes.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “This is good.”

“Not a problem.” Karen smiled politely before getting up and walking out of the kitchen. I glanced after her for a few seconds before turning my attention to Steven.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said. “She’s nice. She’s a good roommate.”

“Especially because she makes bacon,” Steven teased. “But yeah, she’s fine.” He yawned. “Still hoping this whole place will be ours someday.”

I frowned. I loved the big, old farmhouse where we all lived, but I couldn’t see just Steven and myself living there. I knew that I wouldn’t exactly be making much in grad school, and Steven made a decent salary as a teacher, but it wasn’t the kind of money that could buy a house. Until recently, we’d had another roommate, Paul. But he’d left for a military deployment. We’d found Karen on Craigslist about two weeks later, and, while she was quiet, I thought she was a good fit.

“Come on,” Steven said before I had a chance to ask him about it. “Let’s go.”

--

Steven drove us out of Jaffrey toward Pitcher Mountain. “I thought we could take a lazy hike,” he said. “Then maybe we could go into Peterborough for lunch. There’s a new deli that looks good – lots of craft beer on tap.”

I nodded. “That sounds nice,” I said. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sun’s warmth on my face. I wasn’t much of a hiker – Steven was by far the more athletic – but I loved the idea of spending a lazy day in the sun with my boyfriend.

To my relief, Steven suggested the easier path. Pitcher Mountain wasn’t huge – only a little more than two thousand feet – and in the summer, it was covered with patches of blueberries. I had to admit that it looked beautiful in the early spring. Buds covered the trees, and the grass was just beginning to glow again from a long, dreary winter.

We walked together in silence. Steven reached for my hand and squeezed. “I know I don’t tell you a lot,” he said in a low voice as we rounded a corner and started uphill. “But I appreciate you, Elizabeth. You mean so much to me.”

I bit my lip, smiling self-consciously. “I know,” I said softly. I squeezed Steven’s hand, and he squeezed back. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“We have,” Steven said. He cleared his throat, and I waited, wondering if he would say anything else. But then he swallowed. I watched as a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“I’m happy we’re together now,” I said. “I hated when you weren’t here.”

“I know.” Steven sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. In the sun, it looked almost blond again, like it had when we were kids. “But maybe I had to go away for a while, you know? I had to realize how much we meant to each other.”

I nodded. “I know. I missed you every day.”

Steven squeezed my hand. “I missed you, too,” he said. Suddenly, he stopped walking. “Elizabeth, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” My heart skipped a beat in my chest, and I felt my fingers trembling. Steven locked eyes with me, then dropped down on one knee. I gasped as he pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and opened it up to reveal a sparkling diamond solitaire.

“Oh, my god,” I murmured. “What is this?”

“Marry me, Elizabeth,” Steven said. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Make me the happiest man on Earth and say yes.”

Tears flooded my eyes, and I started nodding rapidly, bobbing my head up and down. “Yes,” I whispered hotly. “Yes.”

Steven leapt from the ground and pulled me into a tight embrace. He nuzzled my hair, and I tilted my face up to meet his lips. We kissed, and I felt tears spilling from my eyes as Steven locked his arms around me.

“I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate,” I said, wiping my eyes and laughing. “I feel like I’m having a heart attack!”

Steven pulled the solitaire ring from the box and slid it on the third finger of my left hand. It fit perfectly, and I stared down, enraptured by the shiny diamond twinkling on my hand. It was large, but understated – a simple round cut set in six prongs of white gold.

“This is so beautiful,” I said softly. “How did you find this?”

Steven grinned. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me close. “I had a lucky guess,” he said. He kissed the side of my forehead.

Right then, I was so glad to be alive. I couldn’t believe how happy I was. Being engaged seemed natural. Steven and I had been together for almost seven years – not counting the two years we were apart – and he was my best friend. Whenever I closed my eyes and thought about the future, Steven was there by my side.

“I love you,” I said softly. The tears came back to my eyes. “I wish Monica was here.”

Steven squeezed me again. “Do you ever think about what happened to her?”

A lump formed in my throat, and I nodded. “Every day,” I admitted quietly. “I can’t not think about her, you know?”

Steven nodded. “I know.” He sighed. “I do, too.”

“David probably killed her,” I said bitterly. “Asshole.”

Steven clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Yep,” he said. “That’s probably what happened.”

Chapter Two

Elizabeth – Seven Years Earlier

“Elizabeth, come on,” Monica whined. She crossed her arms over her narrow chest and stared at me. “You know we can’t throw a party. Especially not right now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why not? Your parents aren’t coming back until Monday; they won’t ever know.” We kept walking away from the school, toward home on the main road.

“It’s not that,” Monica said. “You know Jamie and Brian don’t care.” She narrowed her brown eyes. She paused and stood rooted firmly on the side of the road. A car passed, and her blonde hair whirled in the breeze, obscuring her face.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s everything else,” Monica said. “You know – all this shit that’s been going on around here.” She sighed and closed her eyes. For a moment, her pale features were so still that she looked like a corpse. Then she opened her lids and sighed dramatically.

“Like what?” I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“My neighbor, Gene, found all six of his dairy cows dead,” Monica said. “Like, last week. Someone had snuck into the field and slit their throats.”

I shivered. “That’s creepy,” I said. “But I don’t think someone who killed a bunch of cows is going to attack us because we have a party.”

“It’s not just that,” Monica insisted. As always, when she was getting worked up about something, her voice rose to a higher pitch. “Whoever did it splashed the blood all over the side of Gene’s house.”

“It was probably a bunch of bored jocks,” I said. I groaned as a truck full of football players drove past, staring at Monica and me with obvious teenage lust in their eyes. “Like those assholes,” I muttered.

“It’s not just Gene’s cows, though,” Monica said. “What about all those people who’ve had robberies and burglaries lately?”

I frowned. “I think my mom mentioned something about that,” I said.

“Yeah,” Monica said. She gestured wildly with her hands. “Like, someone breaks in and makes a mess, but they don’t take anything. Why would anyone do that?”

I shrugged. “My mom said something about how if someone wants drug money, they’re not going to take the time to sell anything. Maybe nobody has cash lying around anymore.”

Monica shrugged. “It seems…worse than that,” she said. A deep crease appeared in her pale forehead. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, wouldn’t it be safer if we had a party? Lots of people around,” I said. I jerked my head in the direction of home. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah but if something bad happened, their parents would sue Jamie and Brian,” Monica said darkly. “Everyone hates my family as it is.”

“You worry too much,” I said firmly. “Nothing is going to happen, Monica. Everything’s fine. It’s just a party.”

“You just want an excuse to call Steven,” Monica teased. She smirked.

I blushed hotly. “That is not true,” I said firmly. “I don’t care about him.”

“Yes, you do,” Monica said.

“He hasn’t called me in weeks,” I said flatly. It was hard to keep from deflating when I thought of Steven D’Amico. A popular junior at our high school, I’d had a crush on him since the first time I saw him. He wasn’t a jerk, either; that was one of the things I liked about him. He was cool, but he wasn’t like the rest of the assholes who played football.

Monica rolled her eyes. “His mother is nuts,” she said. “She probably got jealous.”

In spite of myself, I snickered. “Their family is a little weird.” My stomach twisted, and I tried to shrug off the bad feeling creeping into it.

“A little weird? Are you serious?”

‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘Why did I have to say that?’

“A little weird, honestly, Elizabeth?” Monica asked bossily.

“Just because Andrea is a freak doesn’t mean Steven is,” I said. “Come on, she was scared. She’s like a little kid.”

“She is a little kid,” Monica said sourly. “She’s only fourteen.”

“Just because she skipped kindergarten doesn’t mean she’s smarter than you,” I said carefully.

“Obviously,” Monica replied. “If she were smart, she wouldn’t have acted like such a little kid last year.”

I cringed. The previous year, Monica and Andrea had held a séance in Monica’s attic. Monica and I had been doing that for years. It had been one of our favorite things to do as kids. But since we got into high school, we stopped. Then one day, Andrea came up to Monica and asked if she could help her contact her recently dead grandmother. I still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened – I hadn’t been there – but somehow, the séance had gone badly. Andrea had run out of Monica’s house, sobbing uncontrollably. Mrs. D’Amico had called Monica’s parents, and while they hadn’t punished Monica, they’d warned her not to do that again.

“She couldn’t help it,” I said. “She’s so naïve.”

“She’s a little brat,” Monica said. “She seriously told me that I’m possessed.”

I snorted. “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

“I know.” Monica’s brown eyes flashed with anger. “Steven’s lucky he’s not crazy like his stupid sister. Have fun dealing with her when you and Steven start dating.”

“We’re not going to start dating,” I said stubbornly. “I told you. He’s been ignoring me for weeks.”

“Poor baby,” Monica said dryly. “So, you really want a stupid party, huh?”

I nodded.

“And you wanna call Steven and ask if he can come?”

I nodded again.

“Fine,” Monica said. “But if my house is a wreck, you’re staying to help me clean it up. And no disappearing upstairs with Steven! Don’t leave me alone.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

“I’m serious, Elizabeth.”

“I said okay!”

“Good.” Monica looked satisfied for the first time since we’d begun our walk home. “I’m going to call David and ask if he can drive down. I haven’t seen him in, like, a month.”

I bit my lip. “Sounds good,” I lied. “I’ll be over around seven.”

Monica and I hugged and then we parted ways. We lived on opposite sides of the small town…granted, that was less than a quarter of mile. Monica’s parents, Jamie and Brian, were old hippies. Before they’d had Monica, they’d actually lived in a nudist colony. They had an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Jaffrey. I lived with my parents and my younger brother, Aidan, in a newer development. Jaffrey was a small place – I’d known most of my classmates since elementary school – but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t one of those people who was dying to get out to a big city. I’d always loved living in New Hampshire because it felt so different than everywhere else. It wasn’t for everyone. That was why I liked it so much.

Monica, on the other hand, was constantly unhappy that her parents had picked such a ‘desert.’ She couldn’t wait to graduate and go to college in the biggest city she could find. Every summer, she went to camp for teen members of Mensa, and that was where she had met David.

When Monica had come home from camp about three months ago, she’d gushed about David until I thought my head was going to explode. I’d never really seen her get like that about anyone before. Monica was the understated to my loud; hearing her talk about a guy for hours on end was a little unnerving. By the time I met David, my expectations were sky-high.

He didn’t exactly meet them, either.

Monica’s parents had told her to invite David up for a weekend. She’d invited me over for dinner, and amongst the Tibetan kitsch that Jamie had strewn around the family home, I tried to get to know my best friend’s new boyfriend.

I still remember it like it was yesterday.

The evening had gone incredibly poorly. Afterwards, Monica had explained that David must have been nervous…he wasn’t normally so arrogant. But I wasn’t sure I believed her. David had a magnetic energy about him, but not necessarily in a good way. He seemed like the kind of person who would either wind up a reclusive genius or a serial killer. He looked the part, too – dressed in black from head to toe, with a perpetual smirk and longish black hair that flopped over his coal-black eyes.

I was hoping he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.

The house was empty when I got home. My brother, Aidan, had just started playing junior-high football, and he was usually at practice for hours. My mom worked as a nurse at a hospital in Keene, and my dad was traveling for business. I took a long bath, then made myself a tomato and mayonnaise sandwich. As I nibbled the crust, I flipped through the channels, wondering how I would work up the nerve to call Steven.

Finally, I bit my lip and grabbed my phone. It took three times to get enough signal for the call to go out, and I shifted nervously on the couch as I listened to the muted ringing on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Elizabeth Hartsell. I’m calling for Steven. Is he available?”

“Oh, hi Elizabeth.” I recognized Andrea’s high-pitched voice. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” I swallowed nervously.

“That math test was so bad,” Andrea said. “I studied, but it was like, when I sat down, the answers weren’t in my head.”

“I know,” I complained. “I hate math.”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Um, not much. Is Steven around?”

“I think he’s in his room.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Why?”

I groaned inwardly. Annoyance flashed through my mind, followed almost immediately by guilt.

“I have to ask him something,” I said.

“You can tell me,” Andrea said. “I’ll go ask for you.”

I sighed. “Andrea, sorry, may I please speak to your brother?”

“Fine.” There was a loud click as Andrea set the phone down. I heard her muffled footsteps and her voice calling for Steven. He yelled something back, and a few seconds later, I heard the phone click back on.

“Hey Elizabeth.”

I blushed. “Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Monica’s parents are out of town this weekend, and she’s having a party later. You wanna come?”

Steven chuckled. His voice was deeper than so many of the other guys at school – on the phone, he sounded like an adult. “Hold on a sec,” Steven said. “I’m taking the phone in my room.”

I heard Andrea’s loud protest in the background, and I couldn’t keep myself from silently cursing at her.

A few seconds later, Steven said, “What time?”

“I think around eight.”

“Yeah, I’ll drop by for a little bit.” Steven yawned. “I’m getting pizza with some of the guys later. You care if they come, too?”

“No,” I said. Disappointment seeped through my veins. If Steven showed up with a bunch of jocks, I knew he wouldn’t pay any attention to me.

“Cool. Well, I’ll see you, Elizabeth.”

“See you.”

We hung up, but I sat on my couch for a long time, clutching my phone in my hand.

--

Two hours later, I bounded up the steps to Monica’s parents’ house. The Boers had done little to modernize the farmhouse. There was heat and running water, but little else. They didn’t even have a full kitchen. Monica’s mother, Jamie, went shopping every day and kept the food in a little miniature refrigerator, like the kind of thing you’d see in a dorm room. Her father, Brian, had a garden out back, and he hunted and shot most of the meat the family ate. There was a huge freezer in the basement stocked full of venison and bear.

I’d always been intrigued by the way Monica lived with her parents. For one thing, they trusted her absolutely. It wasn’t unusual for them to leave her alone for three or four days at a time. For another, they never really worried about her. They told her that they were proud of her no matter what she did, as long as she wanted to do it well. That made me jealous. When I’d been younger, my parents had been tough on me. My brother, Aidan, was thirteen, but my mom and dad still treated him like the baby of the family. He got everything he wanted, and I was the one who had to do most of the chores around the house.

Monica opened the front door before I had the chance to knock. She’d changed into a slim-fitting black dress, but her feet were bare and her fine, blonde hair was knotted messily at the top of her head.

“I fell asleep as soon as I got home,” Monica said. She frowned, scratching her chin. “I was so tired all of a sudden. It was crazy. I felt almost like someone had drugged me.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Monica said. “I feel better. You want some pasta?”

I shook my head. Now that I knew Steven was coming, I was a jangle of nerves.

“Steven’s coming. He’s going out for dinner with some friends, and then they’re all dropping by.”

Monica nodded. “I still haven’t called David,” she said. “Give me a minute, will you?”

I wandered through the Boer’s living room as Monica flopped on the couch and dialed her boyfriend. Jamie had collected trinkets from almost every country in the world, and I opened a glass-paneled bookshelf to reveal a selection of Tibetan books about the dead.

“Don’t read those,” Monica called over. “You won’t be able to sleep.”

Intrigued, I pulled one of the books free and started flipping through. I tried to tune out Monica’s voice as I gazed down at the intricate illustrations and ancient designs. They were both cool and terrifying; a picture of a tortured-looking soul flying out of its body made me shudder.

Monica’s voice cut loudly through the room. “Fine,” she said. “Bye.”

“What’s wrong?” I hastily replaced the Tibetan book and closed the shelf.

“He can’t come because he’s going to a party at the University of Burlington,” Monica said sourly. She frowned. “I can’t believe him.”

Privately, I was glad even if I hated seeing my friend upset.

“That sucks,” I said. “Maybe he already had plans.”

“He doesn’t even want to go there when he graduates,” Monica grumbled. “I don’t know why he wants to go tonight.”

I shrugged. “Maybe he wants to make older friends?”

Monica glared at me. “Like older girls?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly. “Come on, let’s move this stuff.” I gestured toward some of the fragile glass art that Jamie and Brian had collected. “Your parents would be so pissed if anything is broken.”

Monica sighed. “They’d probably just tell me it was meant to happen,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Mom is really on this big, serendipity kick lately.”

Still, she helped me move some of the bigger pieces into her father’s study.

“Hey, reach up to the doorframe,” Monica said. “There’s a key there. We should lock this stuff up so no one goes in.”

“That’s awfully paranoid of you.”

“Elizabeth, please,” Monica said bossily. “You’re taller. I can’t reach.”

I stretched and felt around the top of the doorframe. Sure enough, my fingers closed around a heavy brass key. After locking the door, I returned the key to its home on the dusty frame.

A knock sounded at the door, and Monica looked at me in panic. “Go answer that,” she said quickly. “I need to finish getting dressed.”

I nodded and darted through the sunny, dusty rooms. I yanked open the door and gasped when I saw Steven standing there, surrounded by six other guys. I knew them all – small town, after all – but they were all juniors and seniors, and we weren’t close.

“Hey,” Steven said. He grinned. “You live here now?”

I laughed harder than necessary. “Monica’s upstairs,” I said. “She’ll be down soon.”

Steven held up a case of beer. One of his friends whooped and held up a brown paper bag with a big bottleneck sticking out.

“We brought stuff,” Steven said modestly. “Can we come in?”

I nodded. Just being around Steven made my palms sweat and my heart race. He looked really hot in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. His blond hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his skin was remarkably still tanned from the summer. As he walked into the kitchen, he brushed against my side. Shivers raced down my spine.

I followed, watching as he set the case of beer on the counter.

“They got a fridge?”

“Not a big one.” I pointed to the small fridge in the corner of the room.

Steven laughed. His eyes crinkled up and he looked adorable and goofy. “Monica’s parents are real hippies, wow,” he muttered as he looked around.

“Yeah.”

“My parents think they’re like, devil-worshippers,” Steven said. He raised an eyebrow. “Andrea still has nightmares about that stupid séance.”

“Oh, god, do not mention that to Monica,” I said. “She hates thinking about it.”

“So do I,” Steven said. “My parents made us go to church every day for a month after that happened.” He cleared his throat, then pulled open the cardboard case. “You want a drink?”

After a moment’s hesitation, I nodded. Steven tossed me a lukewarm can, and I opened it. The sour, yeasty smell of the beer made me want to gag, but I opened my lips and poured about half of the drink down my throat at once.

“Damn,” Steven said. He gave me an appreciative glance. “You’re a badass, Hartsell.”

I blushed hotly. Just as I was about to reply, Steven’s friends rushed into the room. They grabbed beer from the case, toasted, then popped open the cans and drank loudly. One of them burped, and I bit my lip, so I wouldn’t groan.

“Hey, Elizabeth, come outside for a second,” Steven said. He jerked his head toward the door.

One of his friends made a moaning noise, and Steven punched him gently on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes and tried not to blush as I followed Steven through the crowd of guys.

Steven opened the kitchen door and walked out into Monica’s backyard. The trees were hung with copper and steel ‘art’ that Jamie had made. There was a nice fall breeze, but I could tell the night was going to be one of the first cold ones this year.

“Hey,” Steven said softly, “I hope I didn’t say anything weird, you know, about Andrea and Monica.”

I shook my head. “No,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell him Monica’s true feelings about his sister, even if I did share them at times.

“Andrea’s a little different,” Steven said. He took a long swig of beer, then walked over to a large oak tree and leaned against the trunk.

“She’s just young,” I said. “She’ll grow up. I changed a lot in the past year.”

Steven let his gaze slide down my body, and I blushed hotly.

“I’ve noticed,” he said coolly. “But you were never like Andrea.”

I frowned, “How?”

He sighed. “She’s just…she’s so naïve,” Steven said. “She thinks that the world revolves around her, and if she’s not getting attention, she acts out. Our mom is so happy right now because Andrea’s been going to church every day. She thinks she’s really serious about God.”

“And you don’t?”

Steven shrugged. “Honestly, I think she does it for attention,” he said slowly. “I think she’s unhappy about growing up and not being the baby of the family anymore.”

I nodded and scowled. “My little brother is in eighth grade, and my parents still treat him like a five-year-old,” I said. “They don’t realize he’s starting to grow up.”

“Andrea wishes Mom and Dad would do that,” Steven said dryly. He laughed.

There was a pause, and I bit my lip. A horn honked from the street over and I jumped, almost spilling my beer over my feet.

“Hey,” I said suddenly. “Why did you stop calling me?”

Steven’s cheeks showed the faintest hint of pink, but he cleared his throat and took a drink. “It’s stupid,” he said. “You’d laugh.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why? What happened?”

Steven sighed. “My mom wasn’t really happy about the idea of me…I don’t know, dating or whatever.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his lean throat. “She told me you were too young.”

I snorted. “I’m only a year younger than you.”

“Yeah, but Andrea’s in your grade.”

“She’s a year younger than me,” I said. “Come on – even you said I’m nothing like her.”

Steven shrugged. “It’s more than that,” he said. “It’s like…my mom doesn’t really approve of teenagers…” He trailed off nervously. “Like, she wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend. I think she’s worried I’d get someone pregnant.”

My cheeks burned flame red at the idea of Steven and me having sex.

“Not that I plan on doing that,” Steven said quickly. “I mean, with anyone.” He coughed again.

The silence came back, only this time it felt more awkward. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I hope I didn’t say anything.”

Steven shrugged. Suddenly, there was a loud sound in the woods – like a loud, piercing screech. I jumped in the air, dropping my beer and spilling it all over my shoes. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I knew that it wasn’t just from being around Steven.

“What was that?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe some kind of animal?”

Steven frowned. “It didn’t sound like anything that would be back there,” he said slowly.

I glanced up and stared at a helicopter flying low across the sky. It flew over Monica’s house and toward the woods, the blades loudly chopping through the air.

“Holy shit,” Steven said. “Something’s really going on.”

I nodded. I knew it was irrational, but a weird feeling of dread had come over me, almost like I was afraid of something. The problem was that I had no idea why I was feeling that way.

“I’m being so weird,” I said, kicking a clod of grass. “I’m not usually this jumpy.”

Steven smirked. He licked his lips and stepped closer. “I didn’t think so,” he said in a low voice. “You seem nervous.”

I bit my lip. “I’m not,” I protested weakly.

Steven stepped even closer, bridging the gap between our bodies. He reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine, squeezing my palm. Then he pulled me against his body and put his other arm around my waist.

“I really like you, Elizabeth,” Steven said. He swallowed. There was no smugness or mocking in his blue eyes.

“I like you, too.” I licked my lips.

Steven bent down and kissed me. At first, it was awkward, but then Steven shifted his head to the side and angled his lips against mine. A hot thrill shot through my body, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close.

The sound of a door banging made us leap apart. When I spun around, Monica was standing at the back door with an incredulous look on her face. I blushed.

“Steven, your friends are trashing my kitchen,” Monica called. She smirked. “You think you can get them to stop?”

“Uh, yeah.” Steven jogged into the house. “Sorry!”

Monica walked over and raised her eyebrow. “So much for not leaving me alone.”

“You were getting dressed.” I flushed. “You didn’t have to interrupt.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “We should get back inside before those assholes break everything in the house.”

With a groan, I turned and followed her.

I couldn’t believe it, but in the short time I’d been outside with Steven, a ton of kids had shown up. Half of the school was there – the rooms were so crowded I could barely weave my way through. Someone had turned on the Boers’ stereo, and loud music was thumping. The wooden floors of the house were shaking, and for a moment, I seriously believed the upper story would collapse onto the lower.

Inside my chest, my heart was pounding and thumping like crazy. I couldn’t believe that Steven had actually kissed me. My head was suddenly filled with thoughts: ‘Was he going to ask me out?’, ‘Would he just start ignoring me again?’

One of Steven’s friends bumped into me and spilled his beer. My legs were drenched with cold, sour-smelling foam, and I cried out and jumped into the air.

The guy glanced down. His scarred, acne-inflamed cheeks pinked, and he shrugged. “Sorry,” he muttered. “That was an accident.”

I pushed past him and ran up the stairs before locking myself in the upstairs bathroom. The sink was old, and it took the water ages to turn warm. I pulled off my jeans and shoved them under the tap, scrubbing them with the strong lavender soap Monica’s mother used for cleaning everything. By the time I found an ancient hair dryer under the sink, I was freezing. I blow-dried my jeans until they were only a little damp, then washed my hands and face and went back downstairs.

To my surprise, Monica was sitting in the living room alone. “I made everyone leave,” she said. “I don’t feel well.”

I frowned. “Some asshole spilled beer on me,” I said. I flopped down next to her on the couch. “You okay?”

Monica groaned. “We have so much cleaning to do tomorrow.” She gestured around the room, and I winced at the display of plastic cups and beer cans. “This blows.”

“I know.” I felt guilty. I was the one who had prodded her into having people over. “I’ll help.” The slight buzz I’d felt earlier from drinking in the backyard with Steven was already beginning to fade, and I suddenly wished that I was home, in bed. My wet jeans were uncomfortable and cold, and Monica was in the most peevish mood I’d seen her in recently.

“Just put on a movie or something,” I said. “I’m going to take these jeans off.”

Monica tossed me a knitted afghan from the corner of the couch, and I snuggled underneath, yawning and flopping around until I was comfortable.

“You got what you wanted, at least,” Monica said smugly.

I blushed. “I don’t know what he’s going to do,” I said. “He told me his mom didn’t want him to have a girlfriend.”

Monica raised her eyebrow. “And then he made out with you,” she said. “So there.”

I bit my lip. “I guess you’re right,” I said softly.

Monica grinned. “I know,” she said. “I always am.”

Chapter Three

I woke up cold and groggy on a foam pad on Monica’s floor. There were three blankets on top of me, and I’d borrowed a pair of Monica’s father’s pajama pants, but I was still freezing. The floor beneath the foam was hard and uneven, and I yawned, pulling the blankets around my face and closing my eyes.

“I’ve been up for hours,” Monica said. She sounded bored, and I sat up, rubbing my eyes. She was sitting up in bed, fully dressed, reading something on her computer.

“Sorry.” I yawned again. Somewhere, in the depths of my brain, I knew that I’d had another dream about Steven. But judging from Monica’s annoyed expression, I knew I shouldn’t say anything. We’d stayed up until three in the morning, and I’d talked about Steven until my throat had gone hoarse.

“We need to clean up,” Monica said. She closed her laptop and got out of bed.

“Can we eat first?” I blinked sleepily. “I’m starving.”

“I need to spend the afternoon writing an essay,” Monica said. “You should probably leave soon.”

I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Monica opened her mouth as if to reply, but then bit her lip and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Come on. The downstairs is a mess.”

Monica and I were silent as we collected the cans and plastic cups and put everything in garbage bags. We opened her father’s study and moved the art back into the rest of the house, making sure that everything looked the same.

“Jamie and Brian really don’t care,” Monica said. “They just want to make sure nothing was broken.”

“You know, you can tell me if something is bothering you,” I said slowly. “I talk about my problems all the time. I don’t want to feel like I’m burdening you.”

Monica shook her head again. “Nothing,” she said. Her brown eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’m fine.”

‘Obviously,’ I thought sarcastically as I carried the big bags of garbage out to the curb. ‘Probably something with David. She’s probably just mad he went to a college party instead of coming here.’

To my surprise, when I went back inside, Monica jerked her head toward the woods. “Hey, you wanna walk?”

“I thought you had to write a paper?”

Monica shrugged. “I should,” she said, “but I really don’t have to, at least not right now.”

“Okay…” I paused. “You worried about being alone?”

Monica didn’t reply. She grabbed a jean jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. I followed her back through the house and out the kitchen door. The woods looked thick and ominous even in broad daylight. I shivered.

Monica set off at a remarkably fast pace, and I had to pant and jog to keep up. She was about a head shorter than me, and it was a sore point, ever since she’d once been mistaken for my younger sister. Normally, she was the one who had to trot to keep along with me. But she was making big, purposeful strides across the damp earth, and by the time we got to the tree line, I was already winded.

“Keep up,” Monica said over her shoulder.

I gazed around at the verdant forest, thinking of how it would feel to walk with Steven alone in the woods. ‘Maybe he’d press me against a tree and kiss me,’ I thought. I glanced down and bit my lip so I wouldn’t blush. My body tingled whenever I thought of Steven’s lips against mine, and I sighed softly.

“Hello,” Monica said. “I asked you a question.”

My head snapped up. “Huh?”

“I said, ‘Remember when we used to come out here? When we were kids?’”

“Oh.” I nodded quickly. “Yeah, definitely.”

Monica sat down on a rock and propped her elbows on her knees before resting her chin her small fists. “You’re going to be obsessed with Steven now,” she said.

“Come on.” I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she wasn’t exactly wrong. “That won’t happen. We’ll always be best friends.”

Monica shook her head.

“That’s not fair,” I told her. I didn’t like standing over her; it made me suddenly aware of how guilty I was. I sat on the ground, not caring if my jeans got dirty.

“It is,” Monica said stubbornly.

“You started dating David first,” I told her. “And I didn’t care then.”

“That’s different,” Monica said. “He lives in Vermont. He doesn’t go to school with us.” She puffed out her cheeks and blew a steady stream of frustration into the air.

“It’s not like I’m going to start spending all my time with him,” I said. “His mother doesn’t even–”

“Hey, stop for a second.” Monica climbed off the rock and pointed her finger into the woods. “Look.”

Frowning, I turned around. There was a large tree lying on the ground, freshly cut. We walked closer, and I jumped when a small twig snapped under my foot.

“Did we have a storm or something?”

“No,” Monica said. “Look. This was cut.” She pointed to the trunk. A shiver ran down my spine when I saw the crude cuts along the bark. They started about halfway down the tree, which had maybe been about twenty feet off the ground. Long, sharp cuts.

“Maybe a bear did this,” I suggested. “Like, got up on its hind legs.” I mimed scratching through the air, shaping my fingers into claws.

“I don’t think we have bears at this time of year,” Monica said doubtfully. “Aren’t they like, preparing to hibernate?”

“Besides,” I added quietly, “this tree is way too big for a bear to knock down.”

“Yeah. It’s too wide.” Monica reached down and tried to wrap her arms around the tree.

I giggled. Monica stood up, brushing the dust and dirt from her arms. “I have a four-foot-five arm span,” she said. “This tree was even wider than that.” She looked down at the base. “Something was really hacking against this.”

“There’s another one,” I said. I pointed a few feet away. “Look. It’s right there.”

Monica nodded. We walked closer, where there was a small clearing in the woods with grass and herbs. I gasped when I realized there were six downed trees in a crude circle around the outer edges of the clearing.

“Maybe some kid is doing an Eagle Scout project,” I said. “Like, they’re making a trail. For little kids.”

Monica shook her head. “These woods are private,” she said. “They wouldn’t do that.” She shivered. “It’s creepy, though, don’t you think? With everything else going on?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really see it,” I said. “It’s not like the same person who killed all those cows would want to cut down a bunch of trees and then just leave them.”

Monica stared at me with a serious expression on her small face. “Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe the trees were just sick and they collapsed on their own.”

“Then what about the scratches?”

I groaned. “I don’t know,” I said. “This is dumb, though. Let’s go back.”

Monica shoved her fists in her pockets and stalked out of the woods. I followed at a slower pace, daydreaming about Steven. I wondered if I’d see him on Monday.

I wondered when he’d kiss me again.

When we were almost back to Monica’s house, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Elizabeth,” Monica said shakily, “come here.”

“What?” I jogged over, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze against my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Look.” Monica pointed down at the ground.

There was a knife sticking out of the soil. I squatted down and wrapped my fingers around the handle; it looked like it was made out of ancient wood, or maybe bone. The knife was almost warm to the touch, like someone had been touching it just a few seconds ago. I gasped as I pulled it out of the ground. The blade was easily eight or nine inches long, and it gleamed in the late morning sun.

“What the fuck?” I mumbled. “Look at this.” I passed it to Monica. She grabbed it without hesitating, examining the handle.

“This is bone,” Monica said softly. “It’s old, too. See these?” She pointed toward a small set of etching along the handle. “They’re runes. I remember those from that mythology class last year.”

“Someone probably forgot it,” I said. “Maybe they were using it for hunting, and they dropped it.”

“The blade was buried in the ground,” Monica said. “I don’t think knives just land like that.”

“Maybe this one did,” I replied. I shrugged. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

Monica wasn’t listening. She was turning the knife over and over in her hands, staring at it intently. She lifted the blade to her face, holding it inches away from her eyes as she stared at the metal. She even closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, holding the knife to her ear as if to listen.

“What?” I stared at her. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said. Her voice was toneless. “It just feels weird, somehow.” She patted the handle before looking up at me. “I’m going to work on my paper now,” she said coolly. “I’ll see you later, Elizabeth.”

Before I could reply, my best friend had turned on her heels and started walking back toward her house. I almost ran after her. Something about her behavior was really bothering me. But Monica wasn’t a pushover, and I knew that she’d only be angry with me for demanding to know what was on her mind.

With a sigh, I headed home.

--

I didn’t do very much for the rest of the weekend. It sounds stupid, but I was afraid to leave the house in case Steven called. My parents wouldn’t let me have a smartphone – I only had a phone that could text and call – and I didn’t get reception unless I was at school or at home.

When Monica ignored three of my texts in a row, I figured she was really angry with me. My mom said that she was probably just jealous, but somehow, I didn’t think that was it. Monica had never really been jealous of anyone. If anything, she leaned toward being a bit too arrogant all the time. When we were younger, she’d teased me about not being as smart as she was. She hadn’t done that in years, but I had no reason to believe she was envious of me. She didn’t even like Steven. She thought he was a stupid jock who came from a family of Christian nuts.

On Monday, I was incredibly anxious. Steven had texted once over the weekend to ask what I was doing, but then he hadn’t replied, and I’d spent over twenty minutes wandering around the house and trying to get better reception. Plus, I still hadn’t heard from Monica. That was really unusual. We normally didn’t go more than twelve hours without speaking to each other.

‘She’s really angry with me,’ I realized sadly as I walked into living room and sat at my usual chair by the window. ‘I hope she gets over this.’ I sat there, drafting an apology in my head…although I wasn’t sure that I actually wanted to apologize, considering I hadn’t done anything wrong.

When the bell rang, Monica still wasn’t in her seat.

She didn’t show up to any of her classes that day. By the time school was over, I was a nervous wreck. I practically ran home and texted her, asking if she was okay. I kept trying to tell myself that she was probably just sick. Maybe that’s why she had acted so weird over the weekend.

By the end of the day on Tuesday, I still hadn’t seen her. She hadn’t texted, called, or showed up to school. I even waited outside the building after class was over to see if she’d make an appearance.

Steven and Andrea were walking out together just as I was trying to figure out what to do.

“Hey, Elizabeth,” Steven said. He gave me a half-grin and tossed his blond hair. “What’s up?”

I shrugged. “I think Monica’s sick or something,” I said. “She hasn’t been here in two days.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Andrea said. “That’s so awful. Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” I said in exasperation. “I’m thinking about going over to her house.”

“Want me to come?” Steven offered. Andrea glared at him.

“No,” I said, glancing at Andrea. “I think I should go alone.”

Andrea relaxed. “Well, nice to see you, Elizabeth.” She smiled. “Have a blessed day.” She skipped off, swinging her bag from side to side.

When Andrea was out of earshot, Steven stepped closer. He smiled again.

“You look great today,” he said. He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

I blushed. “Okay.”

Steven gave me one last smile before loping after Andrea. In the few seconds he’d been near me, my heart had started to thump and pound. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, half-wishing I’d taken his invitation to accompany me over to Monica’s.

When I reached Monica’s house, I shivered. Brian and Jamie’s Subaru was back in the driveway, and I could hear the sounds of Thelonius Monk playing inside. I hesitated for a second, then reached out and rapped my fist on the door.

“Come in!”

Nervously, I pushed the door open. Monica’s mother, Jamie, was lying on the couch and holding a giant glass of red wine.

“Oh, Elizabeth,” she slurred, “I didn’t know you were coming over. Monica’s…not here.”

I frowned and stepped forward. Inside, the music was so loud that I had to strain to hear Jamie’s whispery voice.

“I know,” I said, feeling stupid. “She’s not in school, either. Is she okay? Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Jamie replied. She took a long sip of wine. “I figured she went out to see David for a few days.”

I narrowed my eyes and perched myself in an overstuffed armchair next to the couch.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Jamie shrugged. She sat up and brushed her ash-blonde hair out of her eyes. Jamie looked almost exactly like her daughter – petite, intelligent, and peevish. Both Jamie and Monica had the same sharp brown eyes and puckered mouth.

“I don’t know,” Jamie repeated. She set the glass of wine down on the coffee table – an old steamer trunk laying on its side. “I thought maybe she was with David.”

“You said that already.” I frowned. “I’m really worried about her. She hasn’t been answering my texts.”

Jamie shrugged again. “Well, I’m sure she’s fine,” she said. “She’s an adult now.”

“She’s fifteen,” I replied, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. Something about Jamie’s sloppy, drunken behavior was really alarming, but I didn’t want to piss her off.

“Well, she’s basically an adult,” Jamie said.

“She can’t even drive! How do you think she got to Vermont?”

“David probably came here and picked her up.” Jamie hiccupped, then reached for the wine glass. The glass was dirty and smudged with fingerprints. Based on the warm, yeasty smell of the living room, I had a feeling that Jamie had been drinking for most of the day.

“Is Brian here?”

Jamie shrugged. She lay back on the couch, closing her eyes and humming along with the frenetic, rhythmic jazz.

“Is Brian here?”

Jamie shrugged again. With a sigh, I walked into the kitchen and down the hall. The door to his study was closed. I knocked with trepidation.

“Yeah?”

I pushed open the door.

Brian was sitting at his desk, wearing spectacles. His dark hair was unkempt, and there was paperwork spread in front of him. Jimmy Buffett was playing, but at least he wasn’t drunk, too.

“Hi, Elizabeth,” Brian said. He frowned. “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “I was just wondering where Monica was. I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been in school, and she’s not answering her texts.”

“She’s probably off with that boyfriend,” Bran said. He cleared his throat. “When did you last see her?”

“Saturday morning.”

“It’s only Tuesday,” Brian said in a calm manner that infuriated me. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She’s never done this before,” I protested hotly. “She would always, always tell me where she was going!”

“Well, maybe she decided not to this time,” Brian said. He looked down at the papers in his lap and shuffled them. “It wouldn’t be that usual, would it?”

“It’s just not like her,” I said. “I mean, come on. Has she ever run away?”

“I don’t think so,” Brian said. “But there’s a first time for everything. She’s a young adult, Elizabeth. She’s smart and independent. I’m sure she’s fine.”

I gaped. “I…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

“What?”

“You’re her father,” I said desperately. “Aren’t you worried? It’s cold out there! She could be hurt, or lost. Or sick!”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Brian repeated. “Now if you don’t mind, I really need to get back to work.”

My heart slowed to a dull thud in my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes and I blinked them back, tilting my head to the ceiling so I wouldn’t cry in front of Monica’s father.

“I’m just scared,” I said softly. “I have a bad feeling about this. I really don’t think she’s okay. I think we should call the police.”

Brian narrowed his eyes and glared. For the first time, I saw a menacing look come over his craggy features. “I’m certainly not doing that,” he said. “Those ignorant pigs don’t give a shit about people like us.”

“But Monica! Something could really be wrong! I–”

“Elizabeth, enough!” Brian thundered. “Get out!”

I backed away nervously, bumping into the door and yelping in surprise. Brian glared at me until I walked out of his office. The door slammed shut behind me, and I shuddered.

In the living room, Jamie was passed out on the couch. I paused when I got to the front door. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t leave without checking Monica’s room and making sure she wasn’t actually home.

My heart was in my throat as I climbed the creaky stairs. Thankfully, the blasting jazz drowned out my footsteps, but I didn’t take a deep breath until I got to the landing. Upstairs felt quiet and oddly cold compared to the living room. I snuck along the hall. Monica’s door was at the end of the hall.

Being inside her room was painful. The bed was messily made, and it smelled like the pear-vanilla perfume Monica used to wear in junior high. I glanced around. Her cell phone charger was still plugged in beside the bed, but I saw that her purse was gone. Her backpack was still there, along with all of her books and her laptop.

My heart plunged when I saw the computer. It was then that I knew something horrible had happened. Monica would never leave the house without her computer; she took it everywhere. She’d even taken it to a baseball game on a field trip from school the year before.

I shivered. It felt wrong being in Monica’s room when she wasn’t there – almost like I was invading her privacy. Carefully, I peeked inside her closet. Her suitcase was still there, almost brand-new. She’d bought it right before Mensa camp. A tear dripped down my cheek as I closed the closet door and started down the hall.

My best friend was missing, and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do.

Chapter Four

When I got home, my mom was standing in front of the stove with a huge kettle of marinara sauce. It smelled delicious, but I didn’t have an appetite. When she saw my red, swollen eyes, she cocked her head to the side and frowned.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Something really weird is going on.” I swallowed. There was a bitter, metallic taste in my throat that had been there ever since I’d seen Monica’s empty bedroom.

“What? Something at school?”

“It’s Monica,” I said. “She’s gone.”

“Oh, sweetie. Did her parents decide to take one of those long vacations again?” Mom rolled her eyes.

“No. Jamie and Brian are there. But Monica’s not.”

My mom frowned. She reached for a plastic spatula and stirred the sauce, leaning over the pot and closing her eyes as she inhaled.

“What do you mean, honey?”

I sighed and crossed my arms. “She’s just…gone. Like, she vanished or something.”

Mom glanced up with wide eyes. “Honey, did the two of you have a fight?”

I shook my head. “No!” Running my hands through my hair, I sat down heavily in a kitchen chair. “I don’t know. Her parents are acting like this is totally normal, like she does this all the time.”

“That doesn’t sound like Monica.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Well, honey, maybe there’s some kind of family drama going on.” Mom glanced around – presumably making sure Aidan was nowhere in earshot – and lowered her voice. “You know, honey, your dad and I have always thought that family was a little odd. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Elizabeth.”

I sighed. “She wouldn’t just leave, Mom. She wouldn’t do that, not without talking to me first.”

“Do you think her parents called the police?”

“No,” I said flatly. “I don’t even think they care. When I kept asking Mr. Boer questions, he exploded and told me to leave.”

“I should call downtown,” Mom said. She picked the wireless phone off the hook. “When did you last hear from her?”

My stomach knotted and twisted into a tight bundle of nerves.

“Elizabeth?”

“On Saturday morning.” I looked down at my hands clutched tightly in my lap. “I texted her a couple of times when I got home, but she never replied. And then she wasn’t in school Monday or today.”

My mom’s frown deepened. “And her parents really don’t think anything is wrong?”

“No. It was so weird. It was like they forgot they had a daughter or something.”

Mom nodded. She consulted a list of local numbers by the phone and held the receiver up to her ear.

“Hello, this is Agnes Hartsell,” Mom said briskly. “Can you please send an officer to the house? It’s twenty-two Colonial Avenue.”

I shivered. Part of me was glad that my mother was doing this, but another part of me, a smaller part, was scared. I didn’t like confrontation, and I didn’t like cops. I had no idea what I’d do if they asked why I hadn’t come forward sooner.

When Mom hung up, she looked at me and narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t a game or anything, is it Elizabeth?”

“Oh, my god, no,” I said quickly. “No, Mom. It’s not anything like that. I swear.”

My mom nodded. “That poor girl,” she said softly. She looked at me. “You’re okay, right?”

“What?”

“I mean…” Mom trailed off. “You’re getting older, Elizabeth. Fifteen is around the age when kids start acting out. You’re not doing anything wrong, are you?”

I thought of Steven kissing me in Monica’s backyard and I blushed.

“No,” I said after a long pause. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

I went upstairs and stared down at my math textbook until there was a sharp knock on the door. My heart lurched in my chest as my mom opened the door. I heard a flurry of muffled conversation, then Mom yelled for me to come down.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and went downstairs, trying to look as casual and nonchalant as possible. Mom was standing in the kitchen with two uniformed officers that included Mr. D’Amico, Steven and Andrea’s dad. When he saw me, he nodded.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” Mr. D’Amico said. “How are you feeling?”

I sat down in a chair and drummed my fingers nervously on the table. I shrugged.

“Elizabeth, we’ve met before. This is my colleague, Tony.” Mr. D’Amico gestured toward the other cop. “Can you tell us about Monica?”

“Like, what? She’s blonde with brown eyes,” I said. “But you knew that. You have a picture.”

“Does she have any identifying details?”

“Like tattoos?” It was hard not to laugh. “Monica would never get a tattoo.”

“What about birth marks?”

I shrugged. “I think she has a mole, like here,” I pointed to my shoulder. “But I can’t remember which side it’s on.”

Mr. D’Amico wrote something on the notepad. “Anything else? Does she wear glasses, contacts? Has she ever broken a bone?”

“No, I…” A thought wormed its way into my head and I shuddered.

“What, Elizabeth? What did you think of?”

“She only has four toes on her left foot,” I said slowly. “She got in some kind of accident when she was a little kid and had to have the pinky toe amputated.”

“That’s very helpful. Thank you,” Mr. D’Amico said.

I shuddered. I knew why it was useful: it was something they could use to identify her body.

“Tell me about the last time you saw her.”

I nodded, glancing nervously at my mother. “I spent Friday night with her.”

“I see.” Mr. D’Amico scribbled something on a pad. “Just the two of you?”

I shook my head. “Um, no. She had a party…well, not really a party. Just some kids came over for a few hours. They were all gone by nine-thirty.”

“I see. And were Mr. and Mrs. Boer home?”

I blushed before quickly shaking my head. “No. They were gone for the weekend.”

“Elizabeth,” Mom chastised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Mr. D’Amico said. “Just trying to get all the facts. Can you detail the events of the party?”

My heart thumped nervously in my chest. “Um, sure. I came home first because Monica said she was going to call David–”

“Who?” Mr. D’Amico squinted. “Who’s David?”

“Her boyfriend,” I explained. “He lives in Vermont. They met at camp over the summer.”

“I see. Can you tell me about him?”

“Well, he didn’t even come to the party–”

“Please, Elizabeth,” Mr. D’Amico said, interrupting me for the second time. “Just tell me everything you know about him.”

“His last name is Spring,” I said, biting my lip. “I’ve only met him once. He, uh, he came up for dinner with Monica and her parents, and she invited me over.”

“And what was he like? What was his relationship like with Monica?”

I shrugged. “He’s okay,” I said. I felt guilty. I didn’t like David, but I had a feeling that no matter what I said, Mr. D’Amico would start investigating. “He’s kind of arrogant. He’s older. He’s seventeen, and he didn’t come to the party because he was going to another party at some college closer to him.”

Mr. D’Amico nodded. “Have David and Monica quarreled often in the past?”

“Not that I know of,” I said suspiciously. “They haven’t really known each other long – maybe, like, four months.”

Mr. D’Amico frowned. He scribbled something on his pad and nodded. “Okay, Elizabeth. Tell me about the party.”

I cringed. ‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘I can’t tell him the truth! I can’t tell him that his son showed up with a case of beer and some liquor!’

“Elizabeth, what’s the matter?”

I shook my head quickly. “Nothing, nothing. Just, um, thinking.”

Mr. D’Amico sighed. “Elizabeth, this is serious,” he said gruffly.

“I know,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry.” I glanced at my mom. “It’s just hard.”

Mr. D’Amico nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I went to Monica’s around seven,” I said. “She hadn’t called David yet. She told me she’d fallen asleep. She called him, and she got a little upset when he said he couldn’t make it, but she didn’t seem too worried. She was a little freaked about all of the stuff going on around Jaffrey, though.”

“Like what?”

“Like…the guy who lives next door to Monica, all of his cows were slaughtered one night. Monica thought it had something to do with those weird break-ins all over town.”

Mr. D’Amico chuckled. “Paranoid little thing, isn’t she?” He glanced at his partner, Tony. “Tony thinks the break-ins are drug related. Probably just people looking for money.”

“That’s what I said to Monica,” I said. “But she was still freaked out. She said she didn’t want to be alone.”

“Who all came to the party?”

“Um, Steven,” I said. “You know, your son. And some of his friends from school. Mostly football players, I think. Juniors and seniors. Not really anyone I’m friends with.” I held my breath, almost certain that Mr. D’Amico would ask me about alcohol.

“Right. So, what did you kids do?”

“Steven and I talked in the backyard for a few minutes.” Behind Mr. D’Amico, my mom’s eyes bulged, and I cringed internally. “And then Monica came out and asked us to come back inside.”

“That was it?”

“No,” I said quickly. “There was some really loud sound from the woods – almost like a scream. And then a helicopter flew over Monica’s house.”

Mr. D’Amico nodded. “Was there alcohol at this party?”

After a second, I nodded.

“Who supplied that?”

“Um,” I bit my lip. “One of Steven’s friends, I think. They all showed up together.”

Mr. D’Amico frowned. He wrote something on his pad. “And what happened the rest of the night?”

“Not much. Someone started playing music, and Monica made everyone leave. She said she was sick of having people over. This was…I don’t know, around nine or nine-thirty.”

“Did you stay?”

I nodded. “We stayed up in the living room and watched movies,” I said. “I think Monica was upset about David.”

“And what happened the next morning?”

“We went for a walk in the woods.” I bit my lip, wondering whether or not I should say something about the trees.

“And?”

I sighed. “And we weren’t gone very long. Monica found some trees that had been cut down, with scratches all over the trunks. We found a knife by the tree line. It was big,” I added, gesturing with my hands to show the length of the blade. “Monica kept it. She told me that she had to write a paper, so I went home.”

“And have you heard from her since?”

I pulled out my phone. “No.” I handed it over to Mr. D’Amico. “I texted her a few times; you can see here. But she never replied. And she hasn’t been in school.”

Mr. D’Amico nodded. “I haven’t heard from her parents.”

“I went over there today, and they both think she’s fine,” I said softly. “They think she might have gone to visit David or something.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know!” My voice came out as a loud whine, but suddenly, I no longer cared. This whole thing – treating Monica’s disappearance like it wasn’t a big deal – seemed incredibly stupid to me. I wanted to grab Mr. D’Amico by the shoulders and shake him. I wanted to tell him to wake up, that something horrible was going on.

“Calm down,” Mom said. She looked at me nervously. “Elizabeth, maybe you should go upstairs.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Mr. D’Amico said. “Is that alright?”

My mom nodded hesitantly.

“Elizabeth, do you have any idea of where Monica could be?”

I shook my head. Tears filled my eyes and I looked up at the ceiling, willing them away.

“No,” I said softly. “I don’t. I don’t think she would run away.” I bit my lip. “When I went to her house, her mom, Jamie, was drunk. I snuck upstairs and looked in Monica’s room. She left almost everything. She didn’t even take her cell phone charger!”

Mr. D’Amico and Tony exchanged a dark look.

“Okay, Elizabeth. Thanks. You’ve been really helpful,” Mr. D’Amico said. He stood up and grunted, rubbing his hands on his shiny, red face. “Thanks again.”

I nodded slowly. “You’re welcome.” I blinked, and a single tear rolled down my cheek. “I’m just…I’m really scared. I don’t know why her parents aren’t taking this seriously.”

“God damn hippies,” Mr. D’Amico muttered under his breath. He shoved his notepad back in his pocket. “Come on,” he said to Tony, jerking his head to the door. “We gotta take this downtown.”

They both said goodbye to my mother, and then left. The front door banged closed behind them, and I looked at my mom.

“Elizabeth, honey, it’s going to be okay.” But I could tell from the creases and lines of worry on Mom’s forehead that she was just lying to make me feel better. I walked over to her and hugged her tightly – something I hadn’t done in years.

Mom squeezed me back until I could barely breathe. When we pulled away, her dark eyes were narrowed with concern.

“I’m worried about you,” Mom said. “Is there anything I can do?”

I sniffled and shook my head. “No,” I said softly. “I just wish she was okay.”

“I know,” Mom said. The unspoken hesitation in her voice was as easy to read as giant block print: ‘I’m just glad it’s not you.’

Chapter Five

Mom told me to go upstairs and finish my homework, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I felt like doing was staring down at the textbook until the shapes and numbers turned into squiggly lines and dots, marching across the page with absurd speed. Finally, I slammed my textbook shut and crawled into bed.

It wasn’t late – maybe six or seven – but I felt exhausted, like I’d run three marathons back to back with little break in between. When I closed my eyes, I didn’t expect to fall asleep. But after a few moments, my brain started feeling sleepy and hazy, and I yawned, curling against my pillow and pulling the blanket over my head.

“Elizabeth, help!”

“Monica?” I stood up, brushing my hands off on my thighs. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know!” Monica’s voice was high-pitched and scared. “Help me, please!”

I was standing in the middle of a clearing in the woods. For a moment, I was almost sure it was the clearing with the felled trees behind Monica’s house. But then I realized it was in no way the same wood. This wood was ancient. The trees were as big as giants, and the branches were strung with moss, fairy lights, and small wooden sculptures dangling from twine. Despite the tiny, twinkling lights, I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of my own face.

“Monica!” I screamed. “Where are you?”

“Help me!”

Monica’s voice was earnest and scared. She sounded like a little girl, and a cold shiver of fear wormed down my spine as I glanced around the clearing. I couldn’t see any sign of human life, aside from the wooden sculptures. Nervously, I wrapped my arms around my torso and began walking out of the clearing and into the thick of the woods.

I didn’t stop yelling Monica’s name as I walked. When she didn’t reply, I broke out into a run. My feet were bare, but the ground underneath me was as soft as a thick carpet. I stumbled over a log and almost fell, but miraculously, I felt my body lift through the air, and I landed on my feet.

“Monica!” I screamed. “Where are you?”

There was no answer. As I ran, the woods grew darker and darker. The lights twinkled and fizzled out, and I realized that the trees were getting thicker and closer together. I shuddered and forced myself to run faster than ever. A small cabin came into my sight, and I ran closer, circling around and looking for an entrance. It was made of logs, with mud daubed between them to create a seal. There were no windows, and it seemed to sway in the breeze as if it were a moment away from collapsing.

In frustration, I circled the cabin over and over. I pressed my hands to the walls and screamed Monica’s name, desperate to know that she was safe. Finally, my thumb found a protruding lip. I pulled, and a small door swung open.

The inside of the cabin was dark. I got on my hands and knees and crawled inside, glancing around and coughing in the musty air. It seemed abandoned, like it had been there for hundreds of years. But as I crawled all the way inside, the door slammed shut behind me. Panic and fear welled up in my chest, and I screamed. I already felt suffocated; the stuffy air of the cabin was musty and old.

“Help me!” I shrieked. “Somebody, help! I’m stuck!”

There was no reply. A strange, high-pitched whirring sound began to play all around me, and I shivered. Tears of fright pricked my eyes, and I couldn’t stop myself from beginning to sob as the tears rolled down my face and dripped from my cheeks. As I screamed for help, a sudden gust of hot air blew over me. I screamed as I saw red and orange flames begin to dance in a corner of the room. They lit up the entire inside of the cabin, and I gasped when I realized there was a huge stone hearth. Brass runes were set into the stones, and they flashed in the firelight.

“Hello?” My legs were nervous pillars of jelly as I walked toward the fireplace, sniffling and wiping my eyes. “Monica? Is that you?”

The flames flickered and grew higher. I gasped as I tilted my head up to the ceiling and realized the cabin had suddenly tripled in size. I was standing in the middle of a giant hall, with rushes on the dirt floor. The flames licked at my body, singing my hair and eyebrows until I smelled the acrid scent of burnt death. I screamed again and tried to scramble back, but I tripped over my feet and landed on my butt. My hands scraped the dirt floor under the ferny rushes, and I groaned, a low guttural sound.

The flames licked and leapt higher toward the sky. I was certain that at any moment, the small cabin would be engulfed in flames. I closed my eyes, rocking back and forth and praying for a quick death.

“Elizabeth!”

My eyes bolted open. Impossibly, I saw Monica’s slight figure standing in the middle of the fire. Her brown eyes were ablaze, and her blonde hair was tangled and matted. There were odd markings on her face, and her pale arms were bare.

“Help me, Elizabeth,” Monica cried. She closed her eyes, and I could see her face was etched with pain and sorrow.

“I don’t know how!” I wailed. “Help me!”

“I’m trapped, Elizabeth,” Monica said sadly. “I can’t escape. I’m stuck here!”

“I promise I’ll get you out,” I said. The rush of the flames grew louder. The fire began to spread from the fireplace, licking and creeping up the walls until logs and dried mud were raining from the ceiling. I cried out as a log painfully hit me on the head and bounced to the floor. Sobbing loudly, I curled up on the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees. I knew I was going to die; I just hoped that it came quickly and didn’t hurt.

“Elizabeth, help me,” Monica’s voice said. She sounded tiny and far away. “Help me, Elizabeth!”

“I can’t,” I sobbed into my arms. “I don’t know how!”

“Elizabeth!”

I jolted awake with a gasp. My heart was racing, and my skin was covered in a layer of damp perspiration. I glanced around quickly, looking for the giant fire and Monica and the old cabin.

It took me a minute to realize that I was in my bed, bundled up and covered with my favorite duvet. My mom was leaning over me, frowning.

“Honey, you were screaming in your sleep,” Mom said. She touched my forehead with the back of her hand. “And you’re burning up!”

The cabin, the fire – hell, even Monica – had seemed so real. I couldn’t believe that I was back at home, in my own bed, safe.

“I had a nightmare,” I said shakily. When I wiped my eyes, I realized my cheeks were damp. I’d been crying in my sleep.

Mom sat on the bed. “I’m worried about you,” she said. “Why don’t you come downstairs and have dinner with Aidan and me?”

I swallowed. “I’m not hungry.” Inside my chest, my heart was still pounding like a frantic drum. “I can’t eat right now, Mom. Really.”

“Just come downstairs,” Mom said. This time, her tone wasn’t as gentle. “I don’t want you up here alone, worrying about Monica. That’s not going to fix anything.”

I nodded. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I said. “Just give me a couple of seconds to change.”

Mom looked reluctant, but she nodded, backing out of my room and pulling the door almost closed. With a sigh, I got up from my bed and pulled on a sweater. I didn’t even bother glancing in the mirror before I went downstairs.

Mom and Aidan were sitting at the table, bowls of pasta in front of them. Their conversation halted to a complete stop as I sat down, and I gave Mom a suspicious look.

“What were you talking about?”

“Nothing.” Mom gave me a fake smile. “Can I get you some pasta, honey?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks.”

Mom got up anyway. She handed me a glass of water and a piece of garlic bread. “Your favorite,” she added. “Come on, Elizabeth. You have to eat.”

“Monica’s probably fine,” Aidan said. He made a revolting sniffling sound, then took a huge bite of pasta.

I wrinkled my nose. “Can I be excused?”

“Elizabeth, please,” Mom said. “We’re stronger as a family. Don’t forget that.”

So, I stayed for the rest of dinner. It was excruciating. My mind kept flashing back to that horrible nightmare I’d just had. Thinking about it was enough to make me shiver. The last thing I wanted to think about was Monica, trapped and alone. I knew I was probably just being dramatic, but I wondered if the reality was even worse. What if she’d been kidnapped? I shuddered, remembering a documentary I’d had to watch in school about girls who got sold into the sex trade. My teacher had said that sort of thing didn’t really happen around here, but I couldn’t be sure.

Not knowing was the worst.

After dinner, I bolted upstairs and grabbed my phone. Looking through the texts with Monica was painful, but I kept scrolling until I got to the message I wanted.

I was nervous as I dialed the number on my phone and held it up to my ear.

Someone answered immediately.

“Hello?”

I cleared my throat. “Hi, um, this is Elizabeth Hartsell, Monica’s friend.”

“Oh, my god, Elizabeth, where the fuck is Monica?” David sounded distressed and urgent. ‘What if he’s trying to sound like that on purpose?’ I wondered. ‘What if he’s trying to cover something up?’

“I was hoping you’d know.” I swallowed. Ever since she’d gone missing, I’d had a perpetual lump in my throat.

“No. I have no fucking idea.” David groaned. “She was supposed to call me Saturday night, but I never heard from her.”

My stomach plummeted to the floor. “I saw her for the last time on Saturday morning,” I whispered. “She hasn’t been in school.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nobody knows. I went to her house, and her parents were, like, freaky about it. They were so chill. It was like nothing bothered them.”

“Where do they think she is?”

“With you.” I shook my head. “She’s not, is she?”

“Jesus Christ, no,” David snapped. “I wouldn’t be fucking terrified if she were here.”

“I need to find her,” I said. “I’m so scared something really bad happened, David. I don’t know what to do.”

“You got school tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It’s Wednesday.” I rolled my eyes – this was exactly what I didn’t like about David. He was always so obtuse, to a point where it came across as deliberate ignorance on his part.

“Skip it,” David said. “I’ll drive down and pick you up. We can look for her together.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I sighed. “My mom called the cops, and they came over and interviewed me, but they didn’t say anything about a missing person’s case.”

“Elizabeth, chill. We’re looking for my girlfriend, not tearing up some crime scene. You know the area better than I do. We should go together.”

A bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

“Okay,” I said. “Fine. Pick me up by the school at nine-twenty. That’s ten minutes after class starts. I’ll tell my mom I’m sick or something and that I need to stay home. My parents both work during the day.”

“I haven’t heard shit from her,” David said, more to himself than to me. “She always called, like, all the time.”

I sighed. “I just hope she’s okay. A lot of weird stuff around town was freaking her out, but I totally dismissed it. I didn’t understand that she was really scared.”

David didn’t say anything. I wondered if Monica had told him the same stuff.

“I have to go,” David said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hung up before I could reply. As I stared down at the phone in my hand, I murmured a silent prayer for my friend.

Chapter Six

Monica

I opened my eyes and groaned. Every muscle, every nerve – everything in my body was aching so badly that I felt like I’d fallen down a ravine. It was dark, and my eyes weren’t adjusting.

It took me a minute to realize I was in the woods behind my house. Frowning, I rubbed my eyes and sat up. ‘What the hell?’ I wondered, looking around. ‘Did I fall asleep out here? Where’s Elizabeth?’

There was something sticking into my thigh. With a grunt, I rolled over on the grass and wrapped my fingers around the blade of the knife. It was the same knife I’d found with Elizabeth earlier. And I’d recognized it almost instantly.

It was an athame.

A witch’s knife.

I’d seen pictures of athames and other ritualistic items in the books of witchcraft that I’d been collecting over the years. This one was no different; if anything, it looked like an antique. The handle was etched with runes, and the blade was notched thrice, as if to signify how the athame had been used.

When I touched the handle, I yelped and jerked my hand back. The hard surface was burning hot, and my fingers showed black scorch marks. Something deep inside was compelling me to take the knife. I knew that, for some reason, I couldn’t leave it behind.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled my light jacket off and wrapped the fabric around the handle of the athame. This time, it didn’t burn when I touched it. I got to my feet nervously and looked around. I was further in the woods than I’d ever been; they were oddly dense and thick, not like I’d remembered. When Elizabeth and I were kids, we used to play back here, pretending to be soldiers or elves. The woods had seemed so dark and scary then.

Not like now. Now they seemed familiar and cozy, despite the velvet blackness overhead. I shivered as I started to walk. My limbs ached so badly that it was an effort to place one foot in front of the other. And when I looked up, I couldn’t see the sky through the branches and leaves.

I wished I could stop being so cold. My stomach felt like an empty tube of toothpaste – wrinkled and empty. I had heartburn blazing up and down my esophagus like a trail of fire, and my head was thumping. My sinuses were filled with liquid concrete, and my hands were cold, shaky, and clammy.

I had to admit that I was filled with fear and anxiety as I pushed through the trees, looking for the familiar clearing that signaled I was close to home. To my dismay, the trees grew thicker and denser with each step I took.

I gasped and stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a rustling and crackling behind me. Spinning around, I clutched the athame to my chest. ‘Right,’ I thought sarcastically. ‘Like I could defend myself with this stupid knife. I can’t even hold the damn thing without burning myself.’ In my haste, the jacket slipped from my grasp, and my fingers curled around the bare handle of the knife.

This time, it didn’t burn. If anything, it felt cold and smooth. I gasped again and held the knife closer to my face. The blade was glowing in the dark of the woods, and I swallowed.

The rustling and crackling sounds grew louder. I turned on my heel and broke into a run, sprinting blindly into the forest. Fear pumped through my veins like liquid fire, and my heart beat frantically in my chest as I pushed my way through trees and branches and fallen limbs. Leaves and twigs whipped at my face as I ran faster and faster. After only a few moments, my legs were aching and my chest was heaving painfully, but I knew I couldn’t stop; whatever was chasing me would kill me.

No matter how fast I ran, the sounds behind me kept growing louder and louder. My palms began to sweat, but the athame was still clutched firmly in my right hand, almost as if glued to my skin. I tried to summon confidence, but nothing could stop the powerful waves of fear that kept washing over me. Stumbling over a tree limb, I skidded to a stop and darted to the side, sprinting in another direction.

The woods kept going forever. As I ran, my hope of finding home began to slowly fade. There was something different, something sinister about these woods. The air was thick and palpable with magic and haunting, and I shuddered as I kept running into the void of black.

The crackling and snapping sounds grew louder until the sound of my own breathing was drowned out. I sucked in gusts of air and forced my legs to keep pumping past the point of exhaustion until I thought I’d have a heart attack and die right there.

When a hand clamped down on my shoulder, I screamed. I stopped in my tracks, whirled around, and gasped at the man standing behind me. He was old. He was also tall – over six feet – with long, white hair, wizened skin, and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. They glowed in the dark, just like the blade of the athame I clutched tightly in my fist.