“You don’t know. You don’t know what could be hiding in the woods.”
Opal then proceeded to whimper and stop at every crack of a squirrel or mouse.
Harlow couldn’t stand it. She wanted to go home. She’d paused restoring an authentic ’40s tea dress for this trip and for what? This wasn’t fucking worth it.
“Paisley, get Opal to shut up!” Harlow said.
But then they came upon a clearing. Darkness suddenly enveloped them, sky melting into meadow in the black. It was only when Paisley aimed her flashlight out that Harlow could make out the bits of buildings to break it all up. All wood, simple designs, with gaping maws where doors and windows used to be. Some shook so hard in the wind they seemed a kiss away from tumbling over. She didn’t know what a ghost town was supposed to look like, but suddenly her heartbeat picked up.
Something couldlivein these rundown houses.
The witch could live in a house like this.
Paisley turned back to Harlow. “The universe is bigger than you could ever imagine.” She looked up at the sky, blanketed in stars. It should be such a hopeful sight, but the vast starry sky felt as unreachable as comfort and warmth and reality felt to Harlow out here. “Let’s go find the witch.”
Twenty-Two
The mining town. In retrospect, it seems so obvious. It’d all come back to the whole reason I wanted to come to this forest in the first place. But what got Paisley so set on going there? What was it she talked about in the video? “Energy”? And they mentioned Vanessa to boot, corroborating Ivy’s story about them all meeting that night.
I don’t even know what thread to unravel first.
“Since when does Paisley care about energy?” I mutter as I set Harlow’s phone aside on the outdoor café table.
There aren’t any other videos, but it gives me the biggest clue yet about the whereabouts of Paisley’s phone. I don’t know when it stopped picking up her location, but this is at least a trail to follow. I can still find that damn voice note.
Beck rolls her eyes. “Sounds more like a Mom thing than her.”
Only women get possessed. It’s daylight, but a shiver hits me like it’s night again. Paisley doesn’t care about energy or full moons, but a witch would.
If I believed in witches.
“How faristhe mining town?” Beck asks.
“Not far.” I pause, glancing back toward the campground. The woods are uncomfortably far away as we sit in our signal perch in town. “But we should probably ask Natalie for directions. Make sure she knows where we’re going.”
Beck licks her lips nervously. “Yeah, for sure.”
Before we go, though, I check my email for good measure. I gasp.
There’s an email from the ISB. My fingers shake as I open it. It’s short, which doesn’t feel promising, like getting a thin envelope while applying to college.
Dear Emma Tedesco,
Thank you for submitting your tip to our tip line. At this time, the rangers and coroners feel confident in ruling the deaths you mentioned as accidental. Most likely, you received a cruel prank message. We advise you to disregard it and block the number. We’re so sorry for your loss.
Sincerely,
The National Forest Service, Investigative Division
It’s like the texter said; the forest service cops don’t believe us.
I hand the phone to Beck. She slams her hand against the table.
“Well, fuck them,” Beck says. “We’ll go to the mining town ourselves.”
I nod along, even as my skin crawls with creeping dread.
There’s no one from the outside world to come and save us.
