I clutched my fingers around the urn hanging from my neck, lifted it to my lips, kissed the cold metal. “Wish me luck, Gramps.”
In the detached garage, I sat over my mother’s scooter that would not start. After every failed attempt, the nighttime wind howled, testing my determination. I wouldn’t let it stop me. Nothing could prevent me from entering the woods, from going to Julian.
I jumped off the scooter, closed the garage, and started the long walk.
From the sea to the forest, it was four miles under the milky moon and a dank blanket of rolling clouds. Temperatures dropped into the thirties, and my nose had gone numb about a mile back. At about the halfway mark, cutting through Whister Park and crossing Archer Avenue, I realized I’d chosen the wrong shoes. Each blistering foot forward became a prayer to make it there before my feet fell off at my ankles. Every inhale formed icicles inside my lungs.
And upon every step, another echoed behind me.
I stopped, jerked my head around.
But nothing was there.
My steps quickened, and I continued forward, my senses alive now.
Theclick-clackof the copying steps that were one key off behind me quickened too.
I twisted my head back around, pushed my hair from my eyes. In the night, a figure in a black robe emerged from the dark, erasing the space between us. A chilling breeze burned in my eyes, and my nerves gripped my spine. I took off in a sprint with the outline of the woods in the distance, my heart rattling in my chest!
Julian!I wanted to scream, but fear stole my voice. I weaved between headstones as I flew through the cemetery. The loud cry of a raven pierced the air before taking flight, swooping over my head and disappearing behind me. I dared not to look back, for it could slow me down. Leaves rustled with my stride, flying up and stirring boneyard dust.
They were right behind me. The black figure, the one who’d always been watching me. The real thing and not a ghost.Not a ghost, I thought. Whoever or whatever it was, was real, and it was chasing me! I ran harder, my breath bottled and tossed to the side somewhere. Faster and faster, I ran until I reached the forest.
After a sharp right, I looked back, regretting it.Julian!I wanted to scream so he could hear me. Why couldn’t my lips move? Why wasn’t anything working? My heart pounded so fast and not at all, when I tripped over a root.
I fisted the ground and tried to gain traction with my boots, but the earth slid under me.
Whoever it was, was here.
I felt it. The tingle. The cold grip at the back of my neck.
It was … right … behind me …
I flipped over on my back to face whatever it was, crawling backward to put more distance between us. Inside the robe was utter darkness. I shook my head as they moved closer.
“Julian!” I screamed, then my back hit a tree. “JULIAN!”
“He can’t save you,” a sing-song voice said, and delicate and manicured hands rose from each side, pulled off the hood. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Her face came into view. Her face. Her beautiful, flawless face and honey-dipped hair. Her eyes were like blue lightning—sharp and quick and sliced through me.
“Carrie,” I whispered, and her perfect lips smiled. “What are you doing?” I asked, and she tilted her head. “What are you doing?! Leave me alone!”
Carrie Driscoll shook her head. “The time has finally come.”
“Time? What are you talking about?”
“Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this? The measures I’ve taken?”
“It was you,” I whispered. I cleared my voice, waiting for my thoughts to piece together. “You sent the letter to get me here! Why? Why did you want me here? What did I ever do to you?” I didn’t wait for her to respond and scanned the forest. “JULIAN!”
“He’s not coming, moon girl. The Heathen is under my control.”
“Julian’s under no one’s control!” I spat, screaming his name again until my throat turned raw.
She laughed a siren laugh, the kind men could fall for, drop to their knees for. The sound spiraled with the wind when Julian appeared from behind a tree, stepping forward. He was wearing jeans. His boots. His black coat. His black mask. His eyes were on her, not me.
He was looking to her, not me.
