Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

  “Checking me out, then?”

  “Yeah.” I unlock the door and open it. “That’s it.”

  “You back in town for good?”

  “No.”

  “Just visiting?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you stopped by the Cove?” she presses. “Why?”

  “None of your business.” I stand inside the door, staring at her. “Would you get off my car?”

  I mean, how nosy.

  “I need a ride,” she tells me. “If you don’t mind.”

  I pause. “Excuse me?”

  “A lift?” she clarifies as if I’m dumb.

  “I’m not a taxi,” I retort.

  And… I don’t know you.

  “Saucy,” she teases. “He was right about you.”

  He? Will told her I was saucy?

  Well, if that’s the worst thing he said, I suppose I’m lucky.

  I open my mouth, dying to ask about him.

  Is he in town? Is he okay?

  Is he happy?

  But I clamp it shut again, knowing she’s his friend, not mine.

  Hopping off my hood, she hangs over the door, peering up at me. “You give me a ride, and I’ll pay for the pizza and margaritas,” she says.

  Pizza and margaritas… Is she kidding?

  “What do you want with me?” I ask.

  She doesn’t know me, and I don’t for one second believe this is anything but a trick.

  But then again…the only thing I believe about people is their worst, so...

  “I don’t know,” she tells me, her voice softening. “But do you ever have that feeling that you need something, but you just don’t know what?”

  She looks at me, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

  “Like a drink or a good cry or to jump on a plane and see something new?” she continues. “But then none of those things are it, and you still can’t figure out what it is you need?”

  Her words resonate with me more than she knows. The only difference is I know what I need. I just can’t have it.

  “Well, when I saw you inside the park just before,” she tells me, “—and recognized you—I felt like we’d found it.”

  We?

  Why would she need me?

  “Sticks is still the place to be,” she sing-songs. “The best pizza.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not there. I don’t want…”

  “To be seen?”

  Pizza sounds good. And lots of margaritas sounds fantastic. My lonely hotel room back in the city seems dreadful now, but…

  “I just don’t want to run into anyone,” I tell her. “Thanks, though.”

  She holds my eyes for a moment. “He’s not in town right now. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I look at her just long enough for her to take that as an affirmative and run around the front of the car to climb into the passenger seat.

  He wasn’t in town? Where was he?

  But it was none of my business. Whatever.

  I sit down, seeing her pull on her seatbelt. I start the car, a little weirded out, but I have a feeling she doesn’t like the word no, and I’m not a fan of confrontation.

  “Where do you live?” I ask.

  I can give her a ride home, I guess.

  But she just pushes her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and replies, “Margaritas first.”

  By the next morning she was dragging my hungover ass to the airport so I didn’t miss my flight. We had started at Sticks and taxied to Meridian City where we drank more at Realm, and then crashed in my hotel room.

  I hated her and her amazing body and her pretty face and all the times I couldn’t help but think about how he’d touched her and held her. Yet I couldn’t hate her, because she was absolutely splendid despite how she’d struggled in life.

  I’d woken up with a splitting headache, and then I hated her more for the hangover, but… she texted, she called, she checked up on me over the months until I was convinced that I might actually be likable.

  Until I remembered she was Will’s good friend, and I was keeping a secret she might hate me for.

  Will stood in the foyer facing me, his eyes on fire, and I wanted to take him to my room, close the door, and hold him forever, but he knew how this would end tonight.

  I wouldn’t grovel, and I was leaving.

  I shoved Alex away and darted for the door, but she caught me and threw me to the floor.

  I crashed, my body wracking with pain as I caught my breath and glared up at her from the marble floor.

  I didn’t waste another second. Blasting off the ground, I lunged for her, ready to tear right through her if I had to, because…

  Because the only person I knew how to fight for was myself.

  Emory

  Nine Years Ago

  I folded the tie slowly and stuck it in the Ziploc bag, followed by my Cove Ride-All-Day bracelet from last night, and the collapsed, empty box of Milk Duds he got me at the movie theater.

  Squishing the air out of the bag, I sealed it, tears hanging at the corner of my eyes as I dropped it into an empty coffee can and capped it, setting the whole thing in the two-foot deep hole.

  I couldn’t keep him close, but I couldn’t throw him away, either. Maybe someday I’d dig up my little time capsule and be able to laugh at how little any of it meant anymore.

  I hope.

  An engine roared to my right, and I looked up from where I knelt on the foundation of the gazebo and saw Damon’s BMW slide into a spot in the alley next to Sticks.

  He jumped out of the car and walked inside, the whole place booming with activity.

  My brother came home for a while this afternoon, finding me where I said I’d be and with my homework done and dinner ready, too. He barely said two words as he ate, showered, and redressed to go back out for another shift.

  Tonight they’d need all the hands they could get, so he was pulling double duty. It was a blessing.

  Grand-Mère assured me she was fine, I had a live feed of her on my phone, so I snuck out for the short walk to the village to get some work done.

  Just needed to take care of something first.

  I turned back to my hole, barely able to see the ground in front of me as I grabbed the gardening shovel and started filling it in. I was making the right decision, and thank God he said the awful things he said today, because I was about to break, and I needed the hurt to push through it.

  I hoped he did replace me.

  Tonight.

  He should dance with her and slip his hands inside her clothes and love her crazy, because after that, I wouldn’t be able to look back. It would shatter my heart, so there’d be nothing left to hold him with me anymore.

  Tossing the shovel, I gathered the rest of the dirt with my hands and scooped it into the hole, covering the coffee can and pressing the soil firmly. I took a brand-new floorboard and lined it up next to the last one, grabbing the nail gun and securing it to the frame. I moved quickly, all eight posts rising from their anchors around me as the floor came together, each board cut to my specs.

  A loud whirring sound ripped through the air, and I looked over again, seeing Damon straddle a motorbike as Winter Ashby stood next to him, fastening a helmet.

  I tensed, about to wonder what the hell he thought he was doing out here with the kid.

  But as she climbed on behind him, he looked over his shoulder at her, something written in his smile I’d never seen in him before.

  Tenderness.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and she squealed as they sped off out of the square, disappearing down a street.

  I had to smile a little, remembering the pirate ship and how I’d sounded exactly the same last night.

  I loved that feeling too, Winter Ashby.

  It wasn’t the ride, though, honey. It wasn’t the ride.

  • • •

  Hours later, the square was empty and quiet, and I headed home for the second time, already having tread th
e shortcut through people’s yards and across streets to look in on my grandmother and collect some more supplies earlier.

  Sawdust coated my hands, and I stuck them in the pockets of my jean overalls, the wind breezing through the knitting of my sweater.

  “Up!” someone shouted.

  I stopped in my tracks, almost to the back door, and set my bag of tools down, looking through the window at the back of the house.

  Red and blue lights flashed, and I stopped breathing, quickly unlocking the door. Pushing through, I ran across the kitchen, dropping my tool bag on the table and casting a glance up the stairs before racing through the front door instead.

  My brother stood on the porch in his uniform and thick, black jacket, and I stopped, watching paramedics load my grandmother on a gurney up into the back of an ambulance.

  “Grand-Mère!” I shouted, racing down the steps. “Grand-Mère!”

  They closed the doors, some guy in dark blue pants and a light blue shirt sitting with her in the back.

  I pounded the doors, but he barely spared a glance before turning back to her.

  I whipped around, facing Martin. “What happened?”

  I had my eyes on her nearly all night. I came home earlier for a few minutes just to see if she needed anything and she was fine!

  “Her oxygen levels dropped.” He descended a couple of steps, his hands in the pockets of his coat. “I called the ambulance when I came home for a meal break. Get inside.”

  “No, we need to follow her.”

  “She won’t wake up tonight,” he told me, “and she’s in good hands. We’ll go in the morning before school.”

  The engine revved behind me, and I twisted around as the driver shifted into gear.

  No.

  “She’s fine, Emmy.”

  I didn’t like his tone. Why was he so calm?

  “Thank you, Janice,” he called out to the driver as she turned off her lights and waved to us. “Tell Ben thank you.”

  They drove off, and I started after them.

  “Move another muscle,” he warned, “and she’s never coming back.”

  I stopped, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  “Get inside now,” he ordered.

  I stood there, hearing his footsteps and the front door swing open, and I shook my head, wanting to run after her, but he’d find me.

  I closed my eyes, the weariness of all the years and the past several days weighing heavy, because Will showing me how happy I could be if things were a little different made all this so much harder to bear.

  I was tired.

  I almost swayed on my feet. I was so tired.

  A curtain slowly fell between my eyes and my brain as I went through the same rage, anger, hurt, pain, sadness, and despair I’d felt a thousand times before.

  But now I understood something I never did.

  Nothing made sense.

  Martin, my home, the terror… It just was, and sometimes you were just that person whom things happened to.

  I walked into the house and closed the door, not tensing or clenching or bracing, because it didn’t help.

  “That was for last night,” he said as I entered the kitchen and watched him take off his jacket. “Just a warning.”

  I blinked once, staring at him. “You did that to her.”

  It wasn’t a question. I knew the answer.

  His hand curled around the chair back, and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed.

  “She’s the only control you have over me,” I told him. “If she dies, there’s nothing keeping me here.”

  “And without me, she’d be in hospice or some state home, neglected and in agony.”

  We stood on opposite sides of the table, locked in the challenge. What did he want?

  Was this really all he had? He acted like he hated me, but would he suddenly be happy if I were no longer here?

  Was he going to try to stop me when it was time for me to leave?

  “You ran away from me yesterday,” he said. “You were seen at Homecoming, and you were seen at the Cove last night.” He steeled his spine, lifting his chin and tightening his lips. “And I know you know what happened to that crypt.”

  So, he got rid of Grandma for the night to show me how much noise he could make without her here.

  My jaw ached, I pressed my teeth together so hard. People pushing me. People pulling me. People, people, fucking people….

  I told him to deal with me. I said I was to blame.

  I told them all to leave me alone and stop pushing me and pulling me, over and over again. No one listens.

  Blood rushed to my face, something crawling under my skin with its claws. I rubbed my eyes.

  “Take it out on me,” I gritted out. “Leave her alone.”

  “But that’s how I take it out on you,” he replied, a smile playing behind his eyes, laughing at me. “And mark my words, there is still so much more I can do.”

  I let out a scream, seeing red and too furious to care as the tears filled my eyes. Grabbing the edge of the kitchen table, I shoved it across the floor, the tools in my bag clanking as the table pinned him to the counter.

  He growled as I crushed his legs, and I reached into the bag, snatching out a hammer as he threw the table on its side, all the tools in the bag crashing to the floor.

  “You stupid little bitch!” he yelled.

  I raised the hammer, but he launched out and grabbed my wrist, punching me across the face with the other hand as the tool spilled out of my grasp.

  Fire spread across my cheek, but I whipped back around and shot up my knee right between his legs, not wasting a second.

  Stop.

  Just stop.

  He buckled, and I shoved both hands into his chest, sending him flying to the floor. Tears blurred my vision, and I spun around, running from the house.

  “Emory!” His bellow hit my back, and I let out a sob, charging down the porch, across the lawn, and as fast through town as I could race.

  I hurried past the village, down the road, and deeper into the dark forest, hearing the echo behind me fade more and more as he tried to find me but couldn’t.

  “Emory!”

  I dove through the trees, the branches whipping my face, and I fixed my glasses as the lights of the town disappeared and sweat covered my back.

  My legs ached and tears dried on my face as stitches pulled at my side. I slowed to a jog, eventually falling into a walk.

  I should’ve gone to the cathedral. The key was in my pocket, and if everywhere didn’t hurt, I’d laugh at how useful that place had become when I seemed to survive fine without it a few days ago.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, blinking long and hard.

  What could I do? He was going to kill me.

  Or worse.

  My grandma would be at the hospital now. I needed to go, even to just sit in the waiting room until they let me see her, but that would be the first place he’d look, and being a minor and all, he could carry me out of there without any argument from anyone.

  God…

  I walked and walked, hearing the cars on the other side of the trees make their way up and down the road, and even though I didn’t look up, I knew where I was going.

  It was as far as I could go.

  Crossing the bridge, over the narrow but fast river, I climbed the incline up toward the cliffs where the mansions sat. The Fanes’, the Crists’, the Torrances’, the Ashbys’, blah, blah, blah…

  In no time at all, I’d found my way to their quiet, dark lane, lit only by the flickering gaslit lanterns hanging from their high walls and gates.

  Will didn’t live up here. His family owned the fortress on the other side of town, near the high school and up in the hills. The massive house that stood high above us all.

  I should’ve met him that night he wanted to take me to his house to watch movies. Seeing that place from the inside would’ve surely set my stupid brain straight and solidified my resolve before it was too late.

>   Sleeping with him only made it hurt more now.

  I followed the road past the estates, past quiet and deserted St. Killian’s, and then I cut through the forest, past the Bell Tower, and into the cemetery.

  I had no idea what time it was, but all that remained were the remnants of whatever party the Horsemen had had here earlier. It couldn’t be any later than midnight or one, and St. Killian’s was dark just now. They weren’t at the catacombs anymore.

  I strolled through the cemetery, seeing the damage we did to the crypt and Edward McClanahan’s freshly dug grave was filled back in because he was staying right there. My brother couldn’t have the discounted hole anymore.

  But darkness covered every corner of the graveyard, the moonlight barely visible through the clouds.

  Quiet.

  Empty.

  Lonely.

  Was that why I’d come here? I knew they were partying here tonight. Was I looking for him?

  I walked between the headstones, moving silently over the grass and barely noticing the engine that purred, growing louder and closer second by second.

  I blinked, looking up, and then stopped.

  A matte black car creeped down the small lane, its headlights off and the driver invisible through the dark tinting of the windshield.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I darted back a couple of steps, shielding myself behind a ten-foot-tall grave marker.

  They didn’t speed up, turn on their lights, or stop, just kept crawling down the path toward me until it got close enough that I could tell it definitely wasn’t my brother.

  They stopped, and after a moment, I saw the trunk pop open and a man exit the car, the hood of his black sweatshirt drawn over his head. I watched as he rounded the car.

  Who was that? The cemetery was closed.

  Of course, that didn’t mean anything, since the ground was littered with red Solo cups, candles, and other shit. Maybe he was cleaning up.

  He lifted open the trunk, pulling something out over the edge, and I caught sight of bare feet dangling.

  A cool sweat hit the back of my neck. What the…?

  He lifted the body out, throwing it over his shoulder, her long black hair falling out of the sheet, down his back, and her long legs bare in her outfit.