by CJ Lyons
“You. The one thing they didn’t factor into this devious master plan of theirs.” Max still doesn’t sound convinced of Ella’s family’s deception. “We’re getting Ella and getting out of there. You can tell her your story on the way to the police station, and then you’re out of her life unless she decides she wants you in it. She and the police can figure things out. You will not call, text, email, drop by, or contact her again without her permission.” Max’s voice grows serious. “Understand? You leave her alone.”
“As long as she’s safe, I don’t care.” It isn’t the whole truth, but it’s what Max wants to hear.
Because I do care, very much. So much that I can barely force words past the fear choking me. A garbled text message doesn’t mean Ella is in danger. Rory said she often went to the cabin to think. She could just be upset after everything that happened. We’ll probably arrive to find her crying, expecting Rory responding to her text, upset when two guys barge in on her private grief.
At least I hope so. But as Max steers us off the narrow, nameless, two-lane road and onto a gravel drive that winds through a massive gathering of hemlocks and rhododendrons, my dread worsens. The trees give way to a clearing, a sliver of moon reflecting on a small lake that spreads out beside the house and continues behind it. The cabin is larger than I expected, two stories tall with a peaked tin roof. There are lights on inside, but what worries me the most are the other cars parked behind Ella’s Subaru.
“Joe and Darrin are already here,” I say. “We should call the police.” Really, I want to call Dad, but what could he do, a thousand miles away?
“No cell reception up here,” Max says, his door already open. I cringe away from the light from the overhead dome that backlights Max. I reach up and flick it off before opening my own door and quietly easing it shut.
“Wait,” I urge Max, my voice a low whisper across the car’s hood. “Let me check things out. If there are any problems, you can go get help.” Nothing more valuable than good intel, Dad always says.
“You wait,” Max snaps. “I’m going to get Ella. She’s my friend, not yours.”
Before I can stop him, Max strides down the drive and up the cabin’s porch steps. A woman’s silhouette appears at the door. Helen. I creep forward, using the other vehicles as cover, keeping out of sight.
“Is Ella here?” Max asks in a polite but firm voice. “Rory sent me to get her—she needs her help with a school project.”
Not a terrible lie, I think. And if Darrin and his cohorts are playing it safe, they’ll let Ella go with Max. After all, they have no idea what I’ve found or that Rory is sharing it with the police. From their point of view, they still have time to cover their tracks.
I almost relax. Until I realize that Darrin, Helen, and Joe wouldn’t have followed Ella up here unless they’re suspicious that their con is in danger of being exposed. After all, Joe is supposed to be resting at Ella’s house, and Darrin was meant to be headed back to Philly.
Inching my way closer to the house, I strain to hear Helen’s response.
“Come on in, Max,” she says in a cheerful tone. “We need to talk.”
I slump against Ella’s car in relief. Then a twig snaps behind me. Before I can turn around, the muzzle of a gun touches the back of my neck, coming to rest directly over my spine.
“You’d best come inside as well,” Darrin says, grinding the pistol into my flesh. “Ella’s waiting.”
CHAPTER 42
Ella
I drop to the floor, beside Joe’s body. “Joe!” There’s no pulse. It’s too late.
“Help him!” Helen’s face turns crimson. “Why isn’t he moving? Is he dead? He’s dead, isn’t he? This is all your fault!” She paces back and forth but never takes her aim off me. “What am I going to tell my sister? Why did he do that? Move right in front of me. He was always too sentimental. You’re not worth it.”
She raises the pistol, aims directly at my head. She doesn’t know about Joe’s gun, but there’s no way I can get it out of his pocket in time, so instead I back away and slowly climb to my feet. If she’s going to shoot me, it’s going to be while I’m trying to fight back. I won’t be helpless like my parents.
Before I can make a move, a knock on the door startles us both. It has to be Rory or Max. Helen places a finger over her lips as she holds her pistol at her side, out of sight of the door. Then she somehow rearranges her posture and her face until suddenly it’s my Gram Helen smiling as she turns to greet our visitor. Fifteen years of practice have honed her acting skills to an Oscar-winning level.
It’s Max. I’m helpless to do anything except watch—a word of warning and she’ll shoot him. She invites him inside, standing so she’s at his back when he steps into the living room and sees Joe’s body. By the time he whirls around, she has the gun aimed at him. The door opens once more and Darrin shoves Alec inside, also at gunpoint.
“Well now,” Helen says. “Isn’t this a nice little party? Our distressed damsel, her over-protective friend, and our friendly neighborhood stalker.” She glares at me. “Maybe Joe’s death isn’t in vain. I think we can make this work, don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Darrin says, placing Alec in a chokehold, his gun in his other hand. He doesn’t even give Joe a second glance, that’s how heartless he is. How could I have ever have thought he loved me like a daughter? “But it’s best to immobilize the hostages.”
Before any of us can protest, Darrin shoots Max. He’s hit in the leg and goes down on one knee. To my surprise, he doesn’t make a sound, although his face and aura blaze white with pain.
I rush to Max, who has fallen beside Joe’s body. As I cradle him, I inch his hand until it’s on top of Joe’s jacket pocket where his pistol is hidden.
“When I run, use it,” I whisper, assessing both Helen and Darrin’s auras. Helen’s is murky with grief and anxiety, but Darrin’s flashes red with victory—the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him. If Helen or Darrin follows me, it will give Alec and Max a chance to fight back, and Max will have a weapon to defend them with.
It’s a desperate plan, but the best I have. I meet Alec’s panicked eyes as Darrin applies pressure around his neck, enough to make Alec gasp for air but not enough to knock him out. He’s as helpless as Max. It’s up to me.
Blood stains the floor below Max. We don’t have much time. I have to move. Now. Helen turns her aim on Alec. He kicks out, knocking her to one side before Darrin can rein him in.
For a split second, no one is looking at me. I dive through the archway into the dining room, spin to my feet, and am racing through the kitchen and out the back door when I hear a gunshot.
“Come back or your friends are dead,” Darrin calls after me.
I pray that isn’t true, but I know going back won’t save any of us. Our only hope is that they want me more than they want Max and Alec. I’m already off the porch, ducked down in the azaleas that line the path down to the dock, when Helen appears at the back door, her aura spiked with sulfur—fear and anger mixing in an ugly ochre that oozes all around her like a witch’s brew.
I creep through the shadows toward the water. Exactly where she’ll expect me to go. Helen turns on the porch light but I’m already beyond its reach. Then she starts down the path to the dock, holding her gun in both hands.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” she calls, trying to sound confident, but her voice can’t fool me. Not with those whiffs of uncertainty coloring her aura.
She reaches the dock as I sidle into the trees beside the bat house. I grab a stone and toss it into the water, the splash drawing her down the dock.
“Of course you’d hide in the water. But you can’t stay under forever.” She scans both sides of the dock, even bends down to look below in the area around its pilings.
I can feel the rustle of the bats above me—it’s not yet cold enough for them to be hibernating, but this time of year, they’ll be gathered for warmth in their cozy house, preparing for the winter.
I hate to do this to them, but it’s my best chance.
I slide my keychain free and activate my Howler. Helen whips around, gun aimed in front of her. She can’t see me through the bushes, but that doesn’t matter.
The bats swarm out of their house, away from the piercing noise, directly toward Helen. There’s no escaping their vortex of angry wings whipping through the night. She screeches, raising her hands to cover her face as she moves in the only direction she can: down to the end of the dock.
That’s my cue. I rush forward, ducked down below the whirl of bats, my speed enough to rock the deck’s planks as I tackle Helen and throw her into the water.
CHAPTER 43
Alec
I’m not sure what Ella’s plan is, but I know for certain that she’s not running out on me and Max. She’s trying to play decoy—and might just get herself killed. When Helen rushes after Ella, I struggle against Darrin’s chokehold, but he throws me to the ground and steps back to take aim.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Then Max comes through. He sits up, somehow having found a gun of his own, and fires at Darrin.
The shot goes wide, but it’s enough to force Darrin to take cover—which he does by ducking out the front door, leaving me alone with Max.
Max is ghastly pale and panting, but he keeps both hands on the revolver he has pointed at the door. He doesn’t even blink, despite the fact that his leg is gushing blood and his hands are shaking so bad he’d be lucky to pull the trigger again.
I gently remove the revolver from his hands.
“Good job,” I tell him. Max gives me a nod and weak smile then slumps to the floor. I check the revolver. Five shots left. I keep it close to hand and position myself where I can keep an eye on the door and front windows, but Darrin has vanished.
Outside comes a shriek of noise so loud and high-pitched, it makes me wince as it fills the air. Max manages a weak smile. “My Howler. And she laughed when I gave it to her.”
I use the noise as a distraction while I take my belt and wrap it around Max’s leg, above the bullet hole that keeps filling up with blood. “This is gonna hurt,” I warn him.
Instead of crying out when I yank the makeshift tourniquet tight, Max goes white and faints. But at least the bleeding slows.
There’s no way I can carry Max out to the car without risking us both getting shot. I check my phone. Still no service. I glance around the room. There has to be a landline. I make sure the tourniquet is secure and leave Max to search the place. I find a phone on the wall in the kitchen. I lift the receiver and am rewarded with a dial tone.
The 9-1-1 operator wants me to stay on the line, but I can’t leave Max defenseless, so after giving her the basics, I leave the phone off the hook and return to the living room. Max hasn’t moved—his coloring is gray and his eyes are closed.
I’m about to try to drag Max to better cover when the sound of another gunshot sounds outside. The Howler’s shriek fades then dies. But then a second shot cracks through the night.
Max’s eyes flutter open. “Help Ella,” he gasps, one hand flopping against my arm.
I’m torn, but he’s right. Ella is alone and unarmed up against both Helen and Darrin. Holding the revolver, I edge my way carefully through the door and head around the side of the house in the direction of the shots.
As I near the path to the dock, I hear splashing and Helen shouting. Helen’s in the water. Darrin is on the dock, but instead of helping Helen, he’s aiming his pistol at the other side of the dock. Bats whirl overhead, filling the night with a noise almost as teeth-jarring as the Howler’s piercing scream.
Helen paddles toward shore, disappearing in the shadows of the overhanging trees. I focus on Darrin—he’s the greater threat. I use the bushes lining the path as cover, creeping forward, hoping to get the jump on him. Darrin stops, peering down at the lake’s surface from the far end of the dock, and I see moonlight glint off pale skin as Ella emerges just long enough to take a breath.
“Ella, no!” I shout. I sprint toward the water and fire a shot at Darrin, even though I have no hope of hitting him from this distance.
Too late. Darrin takes aim and fires . . . and Ella vanishes below the surface.
CHAPTER 44
Ella
Water has always been my safe haven, but I guess it’s too much to expect it to deflect bullets. After Helen and I tumble into the lake, I push her off me and quickly swim below the dock. She thrashes and sputters in the cold water, eventually ending even farther away from shore.
I duck below the surface and quietly kick my way to the other side of the dock, expecting to glide to shore out of sight. But I haven’t counted on Darrin arriving so quickly. I manage to avoid his first shots by diving deep, but eventually I have to surface. When I do, I’m totally exposed.
His indigo aura is so strong it blocks the crescent moon behind him. Time slows and I can see the bullet, its path a blaze-orange comet streaking toward me, but I can’t move fast enough to avoid it.
It hits my arm just below the shoulder. Pain spikes through me as my arm goes dead and flops to my side, trailing blood that glints on the water’s surface.
Thankfully I don’t need both arms to swim, but Darrin keeps shooting. Bullets fly through the water, silver moonlight glistening in their wake. One grazes my calf as I’m twisting, trying to dive deeper, seeking the protection of the lake’s depths.
The pain is overwhelming. I sink, ribbons of blood swirling with my every movement, my body laced with pain that burns like ice, my skin frozen numb from the cold water as my chest heaves, fighting the need to breathe.
I touch bottom, silky fronds caressing my body, clinging to me as if they want me to stay there forever. I’m half tempted to. My body is so very heavy, I doubt I’ll ever be able to force my way back to the surface.
Then I remember Max and Alec are still out there, and any chance of giving up vanishes in a blood-red haze as my need for oxygen almost has me trying to breathe water. I push away from the muddy bottom with my good leg, trying to kick to the crescent moon reflected so far above me. Too far. But I don’t give up, not even when a black form splashes through the moonlight, careening toward me.
Panic grips me. Darrin has come to finish me off. But there’s no indigo cloaking this swimmer. Then he comes closer, his body rippling through the moonlight, and finally I can see his aura—it’s as clear as the finest crystal.
Alec’s face turns toward me as I stretch out my good arm, but I’m too far away and begin to sink once more. He blinks, and I see his luminous green eyes.
Even as I’m falling away from Alec, all I can think is how wrong I’ve been. It’s not that he has no aura. Or even that his aura has no colors. Rather, his aura is like a prism, a crystal capturing all colors.
Bubbles of laughter escape my lips as my last bit of air convulses from my lungs. Then everything goes black.
CHAPTER 45
Ella
The next sensation I feel is my parents’ hands clasping mine, keeping me safe, never letting me go. I don’t know how I know it’s them—I still can’t see anything—but I just know. Somehow, with my parents with me, I’m no longer haunted by that night so long ago. It’s gone fuzzy and frayed and I’m relieved to be here at the end. At least I think it might be the end . . .
Some distant, quiet part of my brain realizes now is my time to decide once and for all to stay or leave . . . surrender or keep fighting. It’s my choice—maybe the first one that was ever mine alone.
The whoosh of air escaping my body goes on and on, a sigh echoing in eternity. My body is weightless and far away, drifting down, down, down, embracing the caress of the water.
My parents feel so close, I can almost see them . . . if only I could open my eyes . . . I ache to stay with them, to never leave this warm embrace of memory.
I decide. My life belongs to me, and I’m not going to be driven by fear or ghosts or lies any longer. I want to wake up. I want to wake up. I wa
nt to—
Warm breath brushes against my cheek. Then fingers pinch my nostrils tight, and dimly, I sense lips pressed against my own. I feel arms wrapped around me, legs kicking beside mine, hauling my body through the water, someone forcing air into my breathless lungs.
I choke and cough and sputter, my body convulsing upright and almost immediately sinking into the water. I open my eyes. Alec is supporting me and we’re near to shore, my feet mired in the silty muck. He helps me onto dry land, where I collapse and vomit into the grass, narrowly missing him.
Alec holds my hair away from my face, his other hand cradling my cheek, so warm against my skin.
Finally, I stop retching. He sinks down beside me in the mud and wraps an arm around my shoulders, sharing his warmth despite the fact that we’re both shivering violently.
“Thought I lost you,” he murmurs, then clears his throat. He’s lost his glasses and is squinting, trying to focus even though I’m right beside him, only inches away.
“Max?” It takes all my strength to utter the one syllable.
“He’s okay for now. Help’s on the way.”
I can barely raise my head to glance around. We’re just below the bat house—now empty of the creatures who saved my life. I look across to the dock, see Darrin’s motionless body at the far end. “I heard you shouting at him. Before—”
“I needed him to stop shooting at you,” Alec says.
“By making yourself a target?” I can’t believe Alec did that for me.
“He finally ran out of bullets—I tackled him before he could reload.” Alec shifts, and I see a bruise starting to form on his face. “Used his own designer tie and belt to hogtie him. Then when I realized you still hadn’t surfaced—” His voice breaks.
We both turn as sirens sound. I can tell they’re close from the way the noise echoes across the lake and bounces back from the mountains on the other side. I inch closer to Alec, seeking more than just his warmth, and something hard nudges me in the side. Hippo. I pull the toy out with my uninjured arm and press it into Alec’s hand. My other arm is beginning to thaw, pain flashing down my nerves and blood oozing beneath my wet clothing. But I’m too exhausted to deal with that right now.
