Page 22 of Haunt Me, Maybe

CHAPTER EIGHT

Aven

The withered stalks closed behind me with a soft rustle. I hadn’t heard them move until it was too late, and now we were trapped in here by a wall of corn so dense it might as well have been a door slammed shut. Fenn croaked at my feet, low and distressed.

“That’s…totally fine,” I said aloud. It was not fine, but saying that felt like tempting fate. I also didn’t want to pick a fight with something I couldn’t defend myself against. “It probably didn’t mean to trap us in here. The maze is just being…receptive.”

I took three casual steps back, but the corn didn’t part. Instead, the stalks leaned in. Not aggressively—okay, it was kind of aggressive. The path narrowed even more, almost to emphasize which direction I was meant to go.

“Point taken,” I said, glaring at the missing exit. “But also, rude.”

Fenn hopped anxiously once, then twice, in front of the only open path, and the corn practically shivered when I walked toward it. I adjusted the strap of my satchel and committed, my pulse ticking faster with every step. The air smelled green and dry, like sun-warmed husks and earth, as leaves scraped against my sleeves like curious fingers.

The maze was sensing me.

That’s when I became acutely aware of the cold. It was faint, just a thread, yet familiar enough now that my shoulders tensed. Wes was still with us. I didn’t see or hear him, but the small hairs rose at the back of my neck, the way they always did when he was nearby but pretending he wasn’t.

Corn rustled in an amused laugh and continued to direct us. Fenn was beyond unhappy with being herded, but for once, he kept his attitude in check. The path tightened and curved, looping back on itself in a way that made my stomach drop. The maze wasn’t just forcing us to traverse its path; it was deciding where we went.

I slowed once more as the walls pressed closer, the stalks brushing my shoulders and grazing my neck. I instinctively threw a hand out and let it rest against a stem.

“Hey.” I gave a slight push. “Personal space is a thing.”

I see, I heard Fenn say, then glanced down to watch him cryptically stare at a lower branch.

“You can communicate with it?” I hissed sharply. “Tell it to back up.”

The maze did no such thing, and Fenn, my supposedly loyal and protective familiar, looked up at me with a smirk and refused to help.

It’s a friendly.

Obviously. A little too friendly if you asked me.

You’re safe here, like you are in the café, he declared, and the lower stalks moved to allow him to pass. Behave, will you? I promised you would listen.

“Are you serious right now?” Listen to what? I didn’t speak plant. “Fenn, don’t you dare leave me here. I swear to the Goddess I will⁠—”

He was gone. Disappeared into the maze with a little help from the magic fueling it. Unbelievable. When I got my hands on his little amphibious ass, he was done for. And he wasn’t getting a single apple cider donut. The maze rustled as the cold around me deepened, despite the direct sun overhead.

“Absolutely not,” Wes’s voice snapped from out of nowhere.

The air tightened, and then there he was, solidifying beside me with a thunderous expression, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“This thing is pushing,” he said accusingly, then glared at the corn like it personally offended him.

The path widened slightly, allowing us both to fit…barely. Wes tried to maintain space, but it was in limited supply. He shifted and leaned further into the corn, as if the rough leaves were more favorable, and kept his gaze firmly on one spot above my head. At least he was trying to be subtle about it.

“You can go,” I offered. “I’ll find my way out…eventually.”

He looked pained. “It won’t let me.”

My brows rose. I didn’t even know that was possible. What kind of magic fueled this town, and what did it have planned for us?

Wes

I’d dealt with a lot of nonsense in my afterlife, but this ranked at the top. The damn maze wanted something. I felt it the way you felt a crowd move forward, drawn in by the anticipation of some public tragedy. The stalks swayed with intent, leaves whispering against one another like conspirators.

One stem arched toward Aven, and she reached out to pet it like it was a lost pet in need of attention. I unintentionally shifted, putting myself between her and the corn.