“I’m so sorry,” I said, looking up.
Blake.
Oh, come on. Seriously? Him? I had to bump into him?
“Come on, America.” Tristan smirked and stepped out from behind Blake. “You really don’t pay attention to where you’re going, do you?”
I inhaled the pine and cherry blossom scent as Blake’s eyes met mine. I could see Tristan throw a dark look at his friend from the corner of my eye just before he looked back at me.
“Come on, America, I thought I was the one you were enthralled and infatuated by. Don’t tell me your affections are already waning?” Tristan grinned as he stepped between Blake and me.
“Oh, come on. This is such a waste of time,” Gwenn moaned as she grabbed my arm and pulled me away from both of them. As she led me through the restaurant, I glanced back at Blake, who had his back turned to me now. He and Tristan seemed to be arguing over something.
“Just ignore them,” Gwenn said through gritted teeth as we arrived at the table where Kate was already seated.
“Hi, girls,” Kate exclaimed, once again, over-enthusiastically.
“Hi, Kate.” Gwenn beamed as we sat down. She was so good at hiding her emotions, it was like she could just turn them off.
“Menus,” Kate said, handing a leather-bound menu to me and one to Gwenn.
I glanced back at Blake and Tristan again, unable to help myself, but they had moved to the bar and had their backs to me as they talked to someone else.
“Who is that?” I whispered to Gwenn, pointing to the stranger with my gaze.
“Troy Baxter, Victoria’s brother,” Gwenn hissed. “About as nice as his sister.” The moment she said it, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, angelic-looking human turned toward us and glowered.
“Did he hear us?” Gwenn mumbled, turning back to her menu.
I looked up at Kate, and her expression was similar to Troy’s. “What have you two been up to today?” she asked, forcing a smile.
“Oh, nothing much,” Gwenn lied easily. At least one of us was good at it. “What are you thinking about eating?” She looked at me now.
Change of subject, good.
“Carbonara,” I replied, my eyes picking up the first thing they noticed. Before Kate could ask us anything else, the waitress came over.
“What can I get you?”
Finally, someone with a Scottish accent and brown eyes!
We all ordered our food and Kate a glass of red wine. We sat in awkward silence as we waited for our drinks. I threw one more glance at Blake and Tristan, who were still deep in conversation with Troy. They all looked like quarterbacks-turned-models.
“Here you go, ladies— Oh my goodness! I am so sorry, miss,” she cried as the red wine fell off her tray and onto my pink sweater. I gasped as the glass hit my leg, ejecting the wine onto my face and down my chest.
Gwenn burst out laughing. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” she giggled. “I just can’t help myself. When people fall, or this—” She broke off in hysterics.
“Please, let me help you.” The horrified waitress named Lizzie gaped. She grabbed a napkin and patted my face down.
“Honestly, don’t worry about it,” I mumbled.
“Evelyn, why don’t you go and get yourself cleaned up in the bathroom?” Kate said. “I’ll get Lizzie here to pack our food away so we can eat it at home. Is that okay?” She turned to Lizzie, who would have probably agreed to give me one of her kidneys at this point.
I took a deep breath and curled my mouth at the smell of wine. “Where is the bathroom?” I asked Kate.
“Just behind the bar,” she said, glancing at Gwenn, who was only just now calming down.
Oh, I get to walk past Blake, Tristan, and Troy. That makes me so happy.
I turned on my heel and started walking down to the bar, keeping my arms hugged across my chest and trying to concentrate on staring at one of the bottles of whiskey on the bar shelf.
“America,” I heard Tristan jeer as my shoulders slumped. I looked up, and our eyes met. “We just talked about this, you know, paying attention to where you’re going.” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes and walked past them. I felt Blake and Troy’s eyes on me and wanted to scream in the agony of it all. I tried to pace my walk all the way to the bathroom, but once I reached it, I clenched my fists and slammed the door. The bathroom was naturally one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen with white marble floors and filled with vases of beautiful orchids. I marched to the basin and examined my ruined sweater.
How many sweaters are going to die today?
I tried to clean my face off with one of the hand-drying towels next to the basin but didn’t even attempt to save my sweater. Grace had given it to me for one of my birthdays. My stomach clenched. Grace seemed like such a distant memory now, as if I had entered another reality and left her behind in my old one. I sighed and stared at my reflection.
You need to start eating again. It’s enough now.
I threw the wine-stained towel into the basket, stepped out of the bathroom, and came face-to-face with Blake, who seemed to be waiting.
“You need to leave Greyhaven,” he said in a cold tone, his eyes narrowed at me darkly.
“What?” I shook my head as if I had hallucinated. Had he just told me to leave town?
He took a step forward and I inhaled his now-familiar smell. “It’s not safe for you here,” he said, his tone slightly softer now.
“Not safe,” I replied. “I don’t understand, what do you mean?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Just go, Evelyn, you don’t belong here,” he said, his tone cold again as he turned away from me.
I watched him walk out of the restaurant. I saw him walk to his jet-black Range Rover through the windows of the restaurant before I turned my attention to Gwenn, who had appeared by my side.
“What was that all about?”
“Blake. He told me that I didn’t belong here, that it wasn’t safe for me.” I gaped as the Range Rover reversed with such speed I barely followed it.
“He actually said those words?” Gwenn gaped.
“Yeah.” I nodded, still deep in thought. The feeling that I knew him was still overwhelming my every sense.
“The waitress packed our food for us, and I need to get home before my gran starts looking for me,” Gwenn said as Kate walked toward us and beckoned us to follow her out of the restaurant.
Gwenn hugged me goodbye before getting into her own car, leaving me with Kate and my thoughts about Blake. Was he trying to protect me from something?
The drive home with Kate was silent and awkward. I sensed that she had caught on that I knew something wasn’t quite right about the town, and neither of us was willing to start the conversation.
“Thanks for dinner,” I mumbled as we walked into the house. I didn’t even wait for her reply before turning up the spiral staircase and bolting back to my room.
As soon as the door was shut and locked, I picked up the phone. One bar of signal. My throat felt constricted as my pulse quickened.
Quickly, while you still have it.
I found Serena ’s number, pressed the green Dial button, and bit my lip, waiting for the sound of her voice.
“Hello,” Serena ’s voice ventured, not recognizing the strange number.
“Hey,” I breathed, overjoyed to hear a familiar voice.
“Evelyn? Is that you, hello?”
“Can you hear me?” I asked, sitting up.
“Evelyn? Hello?”
“Sere—”
She ended the call before I could say anything else. I tried to dial her number again, but it went straight to voice mail.
I threw the phone down on a pile of clothing and swatted the Spanish lace curtains out of my way. I looked around my bedroom, and my shoulders slumped.
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I stared at the walls for about ten minutes, thinking about Blake, Victoria, and Kate’s odd behavior at dinner and then summoned the energy to brush my teeth and go to bed. The maid must have been to the house earlier because all my belongings were packed away neatly in drawers, and all my products were now in the bathroom—I hadn’t even noticed that earlier when I took a shower. I brushed my teeth and found my pajamas in the drawer next to my bed.
The wind howled outside, and the tree branches surrounding the house scratched against the windows and walls as I got into bed.
Please don’t let me dream.
Chapter Twelve
Thick white fog swayed against my bare legs, making me shiver from the cold and wet vapor in front of me.
Where am I? I don’t know this place. Figure out where you are.
Slowly, my feet moved, and my body spun around, the dripping white light from the moon giving the closely stitched endless number of trees a blue hue in the darkness but not enough to keep the darkness at bay.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve been sleep walking—” I whispered to myself, the sound of my voice breaking the thick silence.
A twig buried itself deep into the sole of my foot, and the desire to scream was only halted out of utter fear.
I moved as quickly and as silently as I could. The trees became sparser, only to be replaced by moss-covered boulders and now visible ferns scattered on the damp forest floor, their foliage green and lush.
I was about to take another step forward when my entire body froze at the sound of something moving behind me. There seemed no point in begging my heart to stop pounding, whatever or whoever was watching me could certainly hear it.
Torn between turning to face what it was and simply running away, I finally turned my head, terrified to make any abrupt movements. Unblinking white eyes moved closer, and my body reacted with a surge of adrenaline as a woman with long silver-blond hair stepped out of the shadows and stopped next to a tree, observing me.
I recognized her perfectly oval face, top-heavy pink lips, and icy-blue eyes, which were calm and completely focused on me. Her silky white dress flowed around her body like a macabre dance, and her hair waved in the soft, cold breeze.
“Astara,” I mumbled, my limbs suddenly feeling very heavy.
She walked up to me and only stopped when we were so close, I could smell the cherry blossoms and pine needles on her. I know that smell. We heard a loud crack in the distance.
“They’re coming,” she gasped in a soft British accent, reaching for my hand and gripping it tightly in fear. The coldness of her skin left me momentarily panicked, but the fear in her eyes shook me out of it. It was impossible to feign that kind of fear. Her eyes grew wider as the sound of male voices approached, their loud and angry tones echoing through the forest. Even without seeing them, I felt the violence that they brought.
The woman swiftly let go of my hand and ran toward the safety of the dark forest she had stepped through just moments earlier.
The men were getting closer, the hum of their voices louder. A glimmer of their torches flickered between the trees. The adrenaline returned, and I began to run after her. They clearly wanted to harm her, but would they harm me also?
My foot made contact with something hard, and I ignored it as I ran faster, determined to catch up with the woman who had looked at me with such tenderness only moments ago. Dogs barked, and the voices of the men circled in on me, enough motivation to ignore my burning lungs and aching legs. I moved faster, struggling to maintain my balance on the muddy forest floor.
The feeling of someone closing in behind overwhelmed me. This time, I didn’t hesitate to risk a quick glance over my shoulder, and I saw him in his black sable clock. Blake. His icy-blue eyes pierced mine, his face distorted in surprise, but before I could do anything, my right foot met with a root, and my arms flung wildly as I tried to break my fall on the forest floor. My body hit the ground with a dull thud as the fog moved in swiftly and swallowed me whole.
A chilling, terrified scream filled the silent forest, and I knew that they had found her too. My eyes flung open, and I placed a shaking hand on my chest.
What the hell is going on?
-
After three hours of lying in bed, trying desperately to remember everything about the dream and Blake, I gave up and took a hot shower jumping at the pipes creaked with strain. An hour later with much better makeup than I had the previous day, I picked up my school bag, my eyes rested on the diagonal scar across my left hand. The scar was the only physical evidence of the car accident. The paramedics couldn’t believe that I had come out unscathed when five other people had died on impact. I took a deep breath and lifted my hand to take in the tiny mark, the guilt washing over me again. The grandmother clock chiming downstairs snapped me out of my brief trance. I hurried downstairs and was about to leave when I realized I didn’t have my car keys.
“Shoot,” I cried, running back up the stairs, trying to remember if I had left them in my room. “Where are you?”
I rushed around my bedroom, searching. I threw everything in my closet out on the floor, rifled through the drawers, and even looked in the bathroom but couldn’t find anything.
The clock downstairs taunted me by chiming again. How had half an hour passed so quickly? I ran back downstairs, keeping my eyes on the floor, hoping to spot my car keys. Kitchen? Bedroom? Entrance hall? I thought back to everywhere I had been in the house and tried desperately to remember where I had placed them the previous afternoon. They weren’t in the kitchen or anywhere in the hallway or entrance room.
Did I leave them in the car?
I rushed toward the entrance and threw the door open, skidding to an abrupt stop next to the car and peering into the window. No keys. Reluctantly, I looked at my watch; I was going to be late if I didn’t find them quickly. I glanced into the car window one more time but realized that even if they were in there, there would be no way of getting to them because the car was locked.
I groaned and scowled just as a dark cloud moved to block the sun. Great, I would have to walk to school. It was cold out, but at least the rain had eased up. The crunching beneath my feet on the narrow gravel road to the gate echoed in the utter silence. For the first time, I noticed that there weren’t any birds in Greyhaven, or at least any that I could hear. I dug out my phone and glanced at the time. I still had about ten minutes to get to school—that should be okay.
I kept trying to remember where I had left the car keys as I passed our street and turned right. I glanced at my phone again speeding up as I realized my time estimation had been too optimistic. After about fifteen minutes of hoofing it at a faster speed than I would actually ever walk, I saw the beautiful sandstone building ahead of me. If my lungs didn’t collapse before I got to the building, everything would be just fine.
I was out of breath and hot. I pulled off my jacket and checked the time, not slowing my pace. I only had three minutes to get there, and I was still about a mile down the road. A few of the other late students were passing me with their cars. Some guys hooted at me, and I groaned. By the time I got to the main gate, I was so preoccupied with checking to see which car would pass me next that I hadn’t noticed the man standing directly in front of me, and I bumped into him.
“I am so sorry,” I said, not looking at him. I picked up my bag that had fallen to the ground in the process.
I stood up and looked into his face.
“Oh my God.” I gaped.
It was the madman that had followed me on the day the bridge disappeared. His black eyes were narrowed, and a menacing scowl marred his forehead, his dirty brown hair matted to his oily skin.
The black trench coat that hung limply from his shoulders looked like something out of World War I, and his boots were muddy and old and had certainly seen better days. His hands shook, and he kept clenching and unclenchi
ng his fists. I instinctively took another step back.
“Look, I just want to get to school,” I said, my heart compressing. He looked like he hadn’t showered or slept for years, and the cruel expression on his face made me step back in fear.
“You need to come with me,” he finally spoke. His accent was distinctly Italian, and his voice, like his appearance, was rough.
“I’m sorry, I need to get to class,” I said, taking a step back, not brave enough to turn my back on him.
“You will come with me.” He took another step toward me. His expression changed, his eyes darted around. “I beg of you, you must come with me,” he pleaded now, holding out his shaking hand.
For some odd reason, I suddenly pitied this man begging me to listen, but there was absolutely no way I would ever follow him anywhere.
“I’m really sorry, but I don’t know you,” I explained gently now. “I can’t go with you,” I pressed on when he didn’t lower his outstretched hand.
He seemed taken aback that I had declined following him away from the safety of the school, and before I could do anything, he lunged toward me and grabbed my right arm. “You will come with me now,” he spat, the smell of alcohol on his breath washing over me.
“No,” I screamed, bolts of adrenaline shooting through my arms to my fingertips, and I tried to pull my arm out of his grip. He was a lot stronger than he appeared, even in his drunken state. I might as well have been shackled to him with iron cuffs. I winced in pain; his grip was so strong, it felt as if my bone would break.
He began to drag me down the road.
Drop your bag. Someone will find it and know you never made it into the building.
I let my handbag slide down my left shoulder as the man dragged me forward with such force I fell over myself, but he ignored me and continued on.
“Please, let me go, I promise not to tell anyone,” I begged as my heart rate increased with every step we took. He squeezed my arm tighter, and I screamed out in pain.
“If you scream again, it will be the last thing you ever do,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I tried to do this without hurting her.” His words came out in a mumble as we reached the river and took a left away from the bridge. “But she wouldn’t listen. They never listen.”
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