My thoughts drifted back to that first sleepover at Ivy’s, when we’d performed that silly ritual to let go of Sebastian. I’d been so sure that I’d put him behind me that night, that I was finally free of his shadow. But now, with everything that had happened, I was beginning to doubt that I’d ever truly let him go.
A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, making me jump. The weather had taken a turn, with dark clouds gathering outside, thick and ominous. A storm was coming, the kind that seemed to roll in out of nowhere, and I watched as the first flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder that reverberated through the cottage. The air felt heavy, charged with an almost tangible energy and, for a moment, I could have sworn the flames in the fireplace flickered higher, as if reacting to the storm outside.
I pulled the blanket tighter around me, unease creeping into my bones. Hallow’s End had always felt different, but tonight, it felt almostalivewith something I couldn’t quite name. The legends about the ley lines, and the strange energy they amplified, echoed in my mind. The storm seemed to be feeding off that energy, making the air in the room feel thick, almost oppressive.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room and, in that brief instant, I thought I saw something—a shadow that didn’tbelong—flickering in the corner of my eye. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly turned to look, but there was nothing there. Just the fire, burning steadily, and the wind howling outside.
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the unease that was gnawing at me. But the storm, the shadows, the strange feeling in the air—it was all too much, too coincidental. I couldn’t shake the sense that something was pushing me, urging me to take action, to rid myself of the past that still haunted me.
The fire crackled again, louder this time, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. It was as if the flames were trying to tell me something. I could almost hear the whispers in the air, soft and insistent, urging me to do something—anything—to sever the lingering thread with Sebastian.
The storm outside raged on, the wind whipping against the windows as the rain began to pour down in sheets, and the atmosphere in the room shifted, the air growing colder despite the fire’s warmth.
Without fully understanding why, I found myself getting up, my movements almost automatic, the small box tucked away in the back of my closet calling to me. My heart pounded as I retrieved it. Inside was the photograph of Sebastian and me from years ago, the memento I hadn’t been able to throw away.
I pulled out the photo as the storm outside grew fiercer and the wind howled louder. The temperature in the room seemed to drop; a cold draft brushing against my skin. With trembling hands, I flipped the photo over and grabbed a pen, scrawling on the back: I WANT TO MOVE ON AND LEAVE SEBASTIAN BEHIND. ONCE AND FOR ALL. The words felt heavy, as though they carried more than just ink on paper.
Returning to the living room, I knelt by the fire, the flames now eerily still, as if they were waiting. I hesitated for a moment before tossing thephoto into the hearth, watching as the flames consumed it almost instantly, crackling louder, the fire flaring up as if in triumph.
But then, the flames turned a deep shade of blue, and the fire crackled in an unnatural rhythm. Twisting and swirling, the shadows in the room created strange shapes that danced in the air as the smoke from the burning photo spiralled upward.
I watched in wide-eyed disbelief as the flames grew higher and the photo’s ashes rose from the hearth, swirling in the air before disappearing up the chimney, carried away by the storm.
For a moment, everything was eerily still. Then, without warning, the fire that had been crackling moments before suddenly extinguished, as if smothered by an unseen hand, the lights in the entire house flickered out simultaneously, leaving me in utter darkness, except for occasional bursts of lightning that cast quick, fleeting shadows on the walls.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I felt a deep sense of foreboding settle over me. Just as I was about to step away from the hearth, a loud, insistent knock echoed through the cottage, cutting through the thick silence like a knife, and sending a jolt of fear through me. My breath caught in my throat as I turned toward the door, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. The knock came again, more forceful this time, shaking the door on its hinges.
I hesitated, every instinct screaming at me to stay away, to ignore the pounding on the door. But the knocks grew louder, more insistent, as if whoever—orwhatever—was outside knew I was alone and vulnerable. My breath hitched as fear twisted in my gut, the sensation cold and heavy like a stone.
I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on the heavy iron poker by the fireplace. With trembling hands, I grabbed it, the cold metal groundingme as I held it close to my chest. The weight of it was reassuring, but not enough to quell the rising panic.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I slowly approached the door, the poker gripped tightly in my hand. My heart pounded in my ears, each beat echoing louder than the last as I neared the threshold. Every step felt like a journey into the unknown, the darkened room behind me offering no comfort, only the creeping sensation that I was walking straight into danger.
The knocking came again, hard and furious, rattling the door on its hinges as if whatever was on the other side was desperate to get in. I paused, my hand hovering inches from the doorknob, the icy metal sending a shiver through me even without contact.
I shook my head, chastising myself for letting my imagination run amok. Get a grip, Vinnie, I thought. It was just a storm. A particularly fierce one, and perhaps the darkness was amplifying my paranoia. The power outage, the extinguished fire, the eerie atmosphere—it was all just a series of unfortunate coincidences. Nothing more.
Surely, the knock at the door was just a neighbor seeking shelter from the storm, or maybe someone needing assistance. The logical explanations were plentiful, and I needed to focus on those rather than succumbing to irrational fears.
With a final deep breath, I turned my attention back to the door and forced myself to reach for the knob, my hand shaking as I wrapped my fingers around it. With a final, shaky breath, I turned the knob.
Chapter 27
AS THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN, I was struck by the sight before me, my breath catching in my throat. Sebastian stood there, a figure pulled straight from the depths of a storm, his once-pristine clothes now drenched and clinging to his sculpted body, outlining every hard line of muscle beneath the soaked fabric. His dark blonde hair, usually impeccably styled, was plastered to his forehead, rainwater dripping down in slow, deliberate streams that traced the sharp angles of his face. His chiselled jaw was clenched, the droplets pooling at his chin before cascading down his neck, where they disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.
The storm behind him was relentless, forming a ferocious backdrop to his unexpected appearance. Lightning streaked across the sky, its blinding flash briefly illuminating the scene, casting Sebastian in a stark, almost otherworldly light, and the thunder that followed rumbled deep and low, as if the very heavens were protesting his arrival. Shadows danced across his face,highlighting the intense expression that darkened his features—something between determination and desperation.
His chest rose and fell with each breath, the soaked fabric of his shirt clinging to him, nearly translucent from the rain. Those emerald eyes, vivid and striking even in the dim light, locked onto mine with a gaze that seemed to hold the storm itself within them.
“Vinnie,” he said, his voice low and almost drowned out by the howling wind. There was something unsettling in the way he looked at me.
Shock and confusion battled within me. “Sebastian?” I finally managed to ask, the words coming out as more of a breathless whisper. “What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”
He shrugged, his expression somewhere between a smirk and something more serious. “It wasn’t hard. Everyone’s so friendly in this town. Like we’re all old friends. They’re more than willing to give away information, especially when they think they’re helping someone.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, my mind racing to process his sudden appearance. I remained rooted to the spot, still standing in the doorway, blocking his entrance as the rain continued to pour down.
“What do you want, Sebastian?” I asked, my voice stronger now, but my hand still gripping the door, not letting him in. I glanced around awkwardly, trying to gather my thoughts, but everything felt off-kilter with him standing there, soaking wet and out of place in this small town.
