“Hoo boy, was there a question in there somewhere?” My voice shakes as I reply, and little sparks fly all over my arm. It’s actually pretty amazing to watch as I pull my cardigan sleeve up a bit higher to look.
An incoming message pings on my phone.
Sam
As much as I want to play this game, my appointment just walked in. See you at seven. ??
The kiss emoji makes me smile as the sparks on my arm fizzle into ashes falling toward my wrist. I guess my emotions are fizzling out at the loss of our game. Back to work.
With the crisp fall air and earlier sunsets, the light is waning as I make my way down my steps toward Sam’s. My leather tote bag is slung over my shoulder, chock-full of candy and DVDs for a date night at his place. I figured it was casual enough, and it’s not like we watched even a few minutes of our movie the other night. I’m calling this a redo. I pull my peacoat a little tighter as the wind picks up.
Looking back at my cottage, I can’t help but feel overcome with the beauty of fall and all the decor Sam carefully placed. I pick up the pace after checking my watch, hoping to get there right on time.
I spent the remainder of my day reading and carefully treating each page of a book on old Mage Hollow legends. There were plenty of details on Irina’s life, along with her sisters, but nothing that would lead me down the path of finding her. The book mostly covered the trials that took place and detailed how this little town became a safe haven for the magically inclined.
The only semi-helpful fact was that Irina lived out her days here. There weren’t details as to where she lived exactly, but there are plenty of homes around town that date back far enough. It’s possible that hers is still standing and could potentially lead to a clue.
As I step over fallen leaves and carefully navigate the uneven terrain, I find myself looking around each tree or corner waiting for something to pop out. A black cat, a goblin, a ghost . . . it could be anything. My skin prickles and the air feels a tad thicker as I approach the cemetery. I chuckle to myself as I think of holding my breath as I pass.
I remember my friends saying that when we were kids. Whenever we would drive past a cemetery, you had to hold your breath the entire time or you were destined to be haunted. Maybe I slipped once or sucked in air a little too quickly. Is that why I’m in this situation? No, but it makes me feel a little less crazy to consider the possibility of it even for a second.
“Olivvviiiaaaa,” a whimsical voice calls out like an echo reverberating against the walls of a cave.
I stop still in my tracks, turning furiously to find the source of the noise. It’s dark enough out that there could be someone hiding just about anywhere.
“Olivvviiiaaaa.” Again, the voice rings out. Speeding up my pace in case this is some sort of sick joke or setup, I make it halfway to the cemetery when I spot her. Under the arched metal gate leading in, Irina stands with her hands on her hips. Her hair is flowing in the breeze, a thick cackle echoing across the distance. She waves at me then turns toward the cemetery, seemingly floating inside across the grassy path.
I run, full speed, with everything I have. I need to catch her. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for, and I refuse to miss it. As I round my way through the gate and onto the brown dying grass, her voice rings out with my name again. She’s taunting me. I pick up the pace even more when I spot her leaning on a tree halfway across the expansive plot of land.
As she floats to the left, leaves whoosh into the air like fall-themed confetti, raining down on the gravestones below. I dodge one of the marble grave markers, dropping my bag so that I can dart after her. A few more paces, and I’ve almost made it when she lifts up into the air and flies right over my head. Astonished, I stand looking up at her, sucking in breaths with my hands on my head.
“Please, Irina. Just make it stop. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
A wicked cackle rips through me as my arm screams out in pain. I claw my coat off, ditching it while my fingers work furiously to undo the button at my wrist and roll up my sleeve. My skin is on fire, and I need to see what is happening. This feels different than the sensations I usually have; it hurts more.
It’s too dark for me to see anything.Shoot.I pull my phone out of my back pocket and flip on the flashlight to reveal the image. In bold red letters are the wordsYes, you can. Open up, Olivia, or be miserable alone.There’s an hourglass with sand trickling out and numbers scribbled below it counting down:22 days and 10 hours. My hands are shaking. I accidentally drop my phone. This has to stop.
“This is what you wanted, Olivia. The clock is ticking. Make your decision on Halloween.” Irina’s shrill voice rings out in my ears, and pain shoots up my neck. I lunge toward her once more, desperate to grab hold of her. I don’t need to wait to decide. I already know that I want this gone. That I don’t want to be so vulnerable that every thought I have is shown to the world. Even if Icancover it with clothing, I can’t hide it forever—at least not from Sam. It’s too much. I’m too exposed.
My fingertips are inches from reaching the bottom of her skirt when my toe catches on the edge of a flat gravestone. I’m tumbling forward, unable to stop the inevitable impact with the ground. As my body connects with the soft grass, my head hits last, striking the edge of another headstone with a loud crack.
I groan from the searing pain in my skull. Reaching up to my temple, hot sticky blood drips down my cheek. I pat my pockets for my phone, I need to call Ari.Shoot, I dropped it.
Willing myself to move, I take a deep breath before pushing up onto my knees. I attempt to crawl back to where I came from, but my vision is blurry and the throbbing in my head intensifies. Each time I pick up my knees to move forward, I get a bit woozier.
Blood is mixing with fresh tears as they stream down my face. This is it. This is how I die. Anne will be so disappointed at the utter lack of grace that I’m exhibiting in my final moments.
Sam! He’s going to think I stood him up, that I ditched him once again. It was one thing to forgive what he believed to be bathroom troubles—not showing at all is a completely different story. An unexpected sob rips out of me.
“Irina, help me. Please,” I beg, pleading for assistance from the very individual who got me in this mess. Instead of swooping in to save the day like she did the first time, I’m met with deafening silence. She’s gone . . . I know it in my bones. Forcing myself to push forward, each shift of my body aches. How hard did I fall?
It feels like it’s been an hour, and I haven’t made it more than a few feet. I give up, lying down for a second, praying that the pain will subside. If I can just rest for a minute, think in peace, I can come up with a plan. But as soon as I’m flat on my tummy, the world goes black.
eighteen
Sam
The Mysterious Disappearance of Olive Bowman
