Everyone except me, and seeing those figures plunges me directly into the past, only now I know slightly more than I did back then. I know there’s a plot against my family and a host of death and violence lurking at this school.
I know the people who kidnapped Lucy and Foxe were wearing cloaks too.
Had that been their doing?
Did they know who I was back then, and that was their attempt at ridding Fury Hill of its curse?
Anxiety rushes through my veins, and I try to focus on the issue at hand.
They can’t see me, I don’t think. I can barely see them, although the sounds of their laughter grate against the hair on the back of my neck, making me tense. My fingertips grow numb the longer I stand there trying to get a glimpse at what they’re doing—it doesn’tsoundlike anything violent. In fact, I’m almost certain I see slivers of naked flesh and hear distinct moans of pleasure as they call out in Latin.
But still. I’ve seen this film before.
I’vebeenhere before.
And I need to get out.
Blood rushes between my ears as I spin on my heel and take off, huffing through the burn in my chest. The noise from the group starts to taper off, though I continually check over my shoulder, making sure I’m not being followed.
As I take a sharp turn, relying on muscle memory and ardent fear to get me back to campus, I trip. A strained grunt puffs past my lips as my foot gets caught on a lifted tree root, sending me sprawling onto the dirt. My face scuffs against the ground, a jolt of pain slicing against my flesh.
I touch my fingers to my mouth, feeling my teeth to make sure they didn’t crack.
“You probably wouldn’t trip if you wore more practical shoes.”
The scream that erupts from my chest at the male voice is otherworldly, making my ears crackle. I slip the flashlight from my hoodie, holding it up in defense even as I pinch my eyes closed.
“Jesus,” the voice continues, familiar irritation lacing his tone. “I didn’t even fucking touch you. Get ahold of yourself.”
Chest heaving, I peel open an eyelid. As I glance around, I notice I’m almost back to the abandoned building past the quarry.
I push onto my knees, brushing debris from my skirt. My hood falls back as I tilt my chin to face my inquisitor.
Sutton Dupont stands over me, his green eyes almost ablaze. As usual outside of class, his brown hair is a mess, like he’s been dragging his hands through it for hours—or someone else has.
Swallowing, I scan the full length of him, ignoring how at ease his presence makes me. The green sweater vest he wears is familiar and comforting, but that warmth disappears when I let my focus fall to his long fingers—clasping a gold Bauta mask.
17
SUTTON
Pure,unadulterated horror slides into place on Elle’s delicate face. My ears are still ringing from the scream she let out after tripping over my foot, since she was running without looking where she was going.
I’m beginning to wonder if that’s just how she lives her life: diving in headfirst to whatever suits her fancy.
By definition, I should want to stay away from her. Especially right now—if she’s running from something out here, there’s no telling what she witnessed.
Heat scalds the edges of my esophagus as she shuffles away from me, like running would do her any good if I wanted to take her.
I extend my arm, offering her my hand.
She smacks me with her phone, causing a sharp sting to ripple across my knuckles.
“What the hell is your problem?” I snap, drawing back. “You ran into me.”
“Who just pops up out of nowhere in the forest?” she counters, glaring, though there’s an edge of something elseglittering in her irises. It almost looks like fear. “What are you even doing out here?”
“What areyoudoing here? This area is off-limits to students.”
