She sat there for a moment, not taking off her seatbelt.
I couldn’t look at her. If I did, I’d shatter.
“I want you to know something, Anna,” she said.
I stared forward, holding as still as I could.
“I always believed you about what happened that night—every word.”
I didn’t move. Everything within me was on the edge, like a dam about to give. Tears escaped down my cheek, and I tried to take a deep breath, but only restrained sobs sounded in the silence.
“I’m sorry I never told you,” she said.
Like an ax, each word chopped at my walls.
“Why?” I whispered. “Why did you believe me? I didn’t believe me.”
Susan touched my hand, squeezing it gently.
“It’s because of something Annabelle said in a letter once. She couldn’t speak about Nightfall much, but we had a way of saying things to one another that no one else understood. In that letter she gave a sort of metaphor about how easy it is to become lost in the shifting shadows,” she said.
I slowly turned my head to look at her, an aching rigidity forming in my muscles.
Susan wiped a tear from her eye, looked at me with determination, and patted my hand.
“I didn’t want the others to come because you needed to make this decision on your own. Whatever you decide, Anna, stay in the light.”
I nodded.
“Thank you, Susan.”
Sticks crackedunderfoot as I stepped onto the path. Leaves rustled in the wind as rays of light from the fading sun filtered through the canopy. Ahead, I saw a small building. It was made with log timbers—an uncommon trait in an area booming with cheaply constructed vacation rentals.
A single lantern hung from the overhang, its tiny flame flickering against the wind. Attached to the building by an iron rod was a small, swaying sign hanging from two chains. The name carved into the swinging board made my stomach twist: The Squelching Mink.
Smoke billowed from a stone chimney.
At least it wasn’t deserted.
I followed the worn, narrow path to the small porch where a change in the air made me pause. I glanced up. It looked like it was about to rain.
My nerves were tingling as I returned my gaze to the door.
Last chance to turn back.
Susan was right, wasn’t she? Derrick wouldn’t let me die at this place. Right?
I clicked my tongue nervously. Who was I kidding? That was already proven incorrect once.
But I wasn’t going to be any less safe there than I was here.
What the hell.
I pressed my hand on the heavy wooden door and pushed.
The deep scent of firewood burning disarmed me the moment I stepped inside.
A bar, wooden stools, and a few tables sat innocuously and unattended, except for one. A man sat at the bar. He was wearing a long coat and gloves, his face covered mainly by a cold-weather mask. That was odd for July.
