The next day, the sun was shining, and I was pissed. How could it be so pretty outside on the day of my best friend’s funeral? Didn’t nature have more respect? Couldn’t there be dark, rolling clouds to match my mood?
As I drove to the church, I changed my mind. The beautiful day was exactly like Jo. It was as if she had ordered it from heaven to remind us all of how happy she was. You should be happy too, I could hear her say. I looked over at Gavin in the passenger’s seat and tried not to feel guilty that he did make me happy. Even on a day like today.
My grandmother had “taken a migraine” and, as much as she wanted to go pay her respects to the Dougalls, she couldn’t get out of bed. I knew it was probably because she hadn’t slept much the night before. She sat up in the armchair in my room all night, keeping watch over me. We didn’t talk about anything, but her presence helped me finally fall asleep. Between my grandfather waiting up for me after Anders’ party and calling to check on me from his golf trip, and my grandmother keeping a bedside vigil, I felt they were really starting to love me. And I was starting to love them.
The funeral was full of love, and anything but happy. Even though the Dougalls begged us from the pulpit to remember all the good times and celebrate her life, the pews were full of tears, smudged mascara, and a suffocating sadness. Stuart was one of the pallbearers. He looked lost, like a lumbering shadow. I gave him a hug, but he didn’t really return it. Jo’s mom was heavily medicated, going through the motions behind a plastered-on smile and glassy eyes.
All of Kingussie was there, even the teachers, although, thankfully, I didn’t see Graham. I couldn’t deal with his awkwardness or his jealousy if he saw me with Gavin. Elsie and her stupid clique sat in the third row, crying like they’d lost one of their dearest friends. Hypocrites.
After the service, everyone milled around. As the church started to empty, I joined Jo’s mom to see if I could help in any way. I hadn’t walked three steps away from Gavin when Elsie and her friends pounced on him. They surrounded him, practically licking their paws with the excitement of meeting the handsome new guy. I heard them giggling as I helped Mrs. Dougall gather the floral arrangements off the altar. How irreverent can you be, flirting at a funeral, especially with a guy who came with someone else?
I must not have been the only one who thought so, because out of the corner of my eye I saw a blond guy grab Elsie by the arm and drag her away from Gavin. Anders! How dare he show up, after what he’d done to me! He knew Jo was my best friend. He knew I’d be here. His pretend romance with Elsie wasn’t fooling anyone.
He steered her out the side door into the churchyard. I excused myself, and ran over to Gavin. “Can we go outside for minute?” I asked, smiling not-so-politely at the other girls. “I need some air.”
“Of course,” he said. “Pardon me, ladies. It was nice to meet you.” He nodded, and followed me to the same door Anders had just disappeared through.
We burst out of the church and into an old cemetery. I was terrified, fearing I was about to see Jo’s open grave. I took a quick inventory and noted that the newest headstone was from the seventeenth century. I relaxed, realizing it must be a historical burial ground.
Elsie was leaning against a tall, crumbly tombstone. Anders hovered over her, balancing his body on the rock against his fist. They looked like they were arguing, but enjoying it, like they were about to make up by making out.
My stomach churned. I was watching him get ready to devour another girl.
“Hey, Anders!” I yelled. “What do you think you’re doing here?” I knew I was overconfident because Gavin was by my side, but I didn’t care. I tried to walk toward Anders, but Gavin gently held me back.
Anders glanced up, a cool look on his chiseled face. “I’m a little busy, Maren,” he cooed. “You’ll have to wait your turn.”
I clenched my fists and turned to Gavin. “Get him!” I hissed. “Kill him. Rip his head off! He’s evil!”
Gavin put his hands on my shoulders to steady me. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “He’s just a rude pig. Ignore him.”
“What?” I screamed. “He’s more than rude! He’s a demon!” I looked over at Elsie, who seemed to think the description was a turn-on. She smiled triumphantly, and slid her arms around his neck.
“He’s not,” Gavin said softly. He placed a calming hand on my shoulder.
I shook him off. “What do you mean? It’s him! It’s Anders! It’s the guy who tried to . . . who spiked my drink.”
“Really, Maren,” Anders said. “Lying does not become you. I hardly need to drug girls to get their attention.” He motioned toward Elsie. “Are you trying to protect your reputation in front of your friend? You don’t want him to know how you were drunk and threw yourself at me at my birthday party? It was really pathetic,” he said to Gavin. The muscles in Gavin’s neck tightened. Finally!
Gavin lunged toward Anders, but he didn’t have to take more than half a step before Anders flinched. Satisfied that he’d made his point, Gavin grabbed my hand. “Let’s go,” he said. “He won’t bother you again.”
I felt myself being led away by Gavin. “No, no,” I said. “You have to kill him! After what he tried to do . . .”
“Believe me,” Gavin said through clenched teeth, “I would love to. But you know I’m not allowed to kill humans. All that punk would need is just one punch. Just one punch.” He exhaled to compose himself.
“No,” I said, hoping to get him riled back up. “He’s a demon, Gavin. A demon.”
“No, he isn’t,” Gavin said, snarling over his shoulder at Anders. “Demons aren’t allowed in churches, remember?”
I froze. He was right. Anders was just in the church. My mind started replaying everything, tumbling over each event like rocks in a stream. The party at Campbell Hall. Jo being called away for her grandmother’s “stroke.” The hedge maze . . .
I spun around to Anders.
“GRAHAM!” I screamed. “Where’s Graham?”
Anders rolled his eyes, thinking about my question slowly, carefully, as if to torture me. “I don’t know,” he drawled. “He said something about fixing a mailbox . . .”
I drove faster than the speedometer on the tiny car would even register. Every time we hit a bump in the road, I was afraid the axels might split in two, but I couldn’t slow down. I had to get home.
We screeched up my grandparents’ drive, and as I threw on the brakes, a small shower of pebbles hit the windshield. Before they hit the ground, we were running past the dented mailbox, racing to the front door.
It was wide open.
We ran around the first floor, and then the second. No one was home. No Graham. No Gran. And then we saw it.
A letter stuck to the kitchen cabinet with a small dinner knife, written in blood-red ink. It was from Graham. “My Dearest Maren,” it began. Sickening. I forced myself to keep reading:
I am so sorry to have to get your attention in this manner, but when I visited you yesterday, you were most unkind. I had hoped to convince you to come with me then, but your fancy feathered friend showed up, ruining my plans. I had no choice but to return today and take your sweet grandmother in your place. I am, of course, willing to make a trade—you for her—although my offer does have a few requirements. First, it expires at midnight tonight. At that time, I shall kill her, as I did your little friend Jo.
I gasped. Jo! Graham killed her! I swayed a bit, feeling like I might pass out. Gavin wrapped his arms around me from behind to steady me.
“Go on,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s a’right. I’ve got you.”
I continued:
Second, you must present yourself to me personally at Campbell Hall. You must come alone, as no one else will be permitted to enter with you. And as you know, your flying fool is not allowed on our land. I consider this a very fair offer, Maren, and I encourage you to accept it. If you do not, know that I will not stop in my pursuit of you. I will kill your grandmother, and then, one by one, kill everyone close to you until you surrender. I will annihilate the entire village if I have to, but make no mistake, Maren; I will not stop until I possess you.
Yours Ever, Graham
I put the letter down. Gavin and I spoke at exactly the same time. “We have to go . . .” Although we each ended our sentences differently.
“. . . to my village,” Gavin said.
“. . . to Campbell Hall,” I said.