They’re darkness versus whimsy personified. The unmistakable affection underlying their bickering makes me think they’re related. Mother and daughter, if I had to guess. I watch them, ignoring the pang of loss I feel as they mock and joke.
“Next,” the barista calls out.
I step forward. The girl working the counter has a lopsided smile and the undefined cheekbones of someone still in high school.
“Mocha latte with two extra shots of espresso—the biggest you’ve got, please,” I request.
She grins as she rings it up. “Yup. Tonight’s going to be a late night for you, huh?”
I give her a nod, matching her friendly smile with one of my own while I pay. “Yeah. And I took too long at dinner. I’m probably a little behind schedule.”
She chuckles and I note there’s a small gap between her two front teeth. “Welcome to my world. We were supposed to close up half an hour ago, but people keep pouring in to fuel up.”
“Places seem to close early around here.”
She prepares my drink with practiced hands. “Only for special occasions,” she responds as she slides my coffee across the counter.
I’m about to ask her what the occasion is—is it Founder’s Night or some other cutesy small-town ritual? But just then, Wednesday Addams calls out, “Okay! Clear out, everybody! It’s time.” She uses frantic shooing motions to emphasize her point, ignoring the hippie woman at her side, who quietly scolds her. “Get out or I’ll curse your toenails to curl up!” She throws out the ridiculous jest with a dead serious face.
I have to swallow down an amused snort when I see how terrified some people look at the girl’s absurd threat. I let myself get caught up in the sweep of people headed out the door.
The wind has picked up and I shiver, heading back to my car. When I move away from the glowing shop window and into the shadows, someone massive appears—out of fucking nowhere. Backlit by a distant streetlight, he looks like a menacing apparition as he steps right in front of me, and we almost collide.
“Shit!” I shout, jumping slightly and then scrambling not to spill coffee on myself. “I didn’t see you.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” his deep, gruff voice scratches my ears, and it takes a minute for me to process his words through the vast amount of adrenaline flooding my system. I stare up at him and his beat-up black cowboy hat, gaping for a second as my body winds down. Finally, everything calms a little. My fingers unclench and so does my throat.
I take a step back, thanking the stars for the fact that the contents of my to-go cup didn’t spill when I basically jumped out of my own skin.
“No…no problem.” I clear my throat and give an awkward, tight-lipped smile as I step around him and hurry in the direction of my Bronco. I don’t glance back, but I do use the reflection on one of the parked cars to watch him behind me like I’m frickin’ Jason Bourne or something.
I shouldn’t have looked, because in the mirror, I see he’s turned toward me. While his feet aren’t moving, the fact that his gaze is chasing me ignites a whole new wave of concern. My paranoid brain only screams louder when another guy steps out from a doorway just past the coffee shop and joins him. Both of their gazes zero in on me, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
“What the hell, Noah?” I mutter. “Calm it down.” You’d think I was walking through seedy city streets with the way my heart is pounding.
These are small-town guys who are just checking out your ass. It’s not like this random little place is full of serial killers.
It’s official, no more creepy murder mystery podcasts for the rest of this trip. They are forbidden. My delicate sensibilities clearly can’t hang.
The street is eerily empty and that does not help me get rid of my case of the shivers.
I swap my coffee from hand to hand and take the time to shake each one out, hoping it will dispel the shock that just shot through my system. This is the second time in the last hour and a half that my fight-or-flight’s been set off.
Maybe I’ve just had too many energy drinks and I’m jumpier than usual, but I suddenly don’t see this town as idyllic and quaint. It’s starting to feel far more ominous.
“Leaving and never coming back here sounds like the best plan I’ve had all day,” I murmur, spotting my Bronco.
I unlock it with my key fob, the lights flashing once, and I hurriedly reach for the handle. A brutal shove from behind sends me smacking into the door, hot coffee splattering everywhere as my cup goes careening. My cheek bounces off the window as pain explodes through my skull. For half a second, I’m confused and unsure what the hell just happened. Somehow, I’m still on my feet, my pulse hammering in my ears, as a chill that has nothing to do with the cold crawls up my spine.
I turn to try to see who just hit me, lifting my hands half in placation and half in defense. I don’t get the chance to look over my shoulder when I’m tackled hard from the side. Pain crackles like lightning down my body, lighting up every nerve ending from my skull to my fingertips.
The ground is unforgiving as I’m slammed down onto it, gravel scraping off layers of skin from my face and body. I whimper, the noise as pathetic as a little kitten, when a large hand wraps around the nape of my neck and pulls me up. Warmth spills down the side of my face, and arms come around me lifting me off the pavement before the world tilts, smears, and blinks black.
2
NOAH
A weary groan slips from my lips as I come to. I’m cold and my head’s pounding like it’s been used for batting practice by an entire baseball team. The heavy ache turns piercing when I try and fail to open my eyes.
The sound of dry skittering leaves scratching against the ground is too loud in my pain-filled skull. I lift a hand to my temple and moan weakly as my fingertips graze sticky, congealing blood.
Fuck.
My muddy thoughts clear and I recall someone attacking me from behind. I force my lids open, despite my pulsing headache, terror and dread pooling in my chest. Images of dank basements and torture rooms flash in my mind but, when my vision clears, I realize I’m outside in a forest and it’s dark out. Dense, towering trees surround the spot where I’m lying, and a flash of red catches my eye.
What the hell happened? Where am I?
I push up from the ground in an effort to sit, and immediately battle a wave of nausea that threatens to pull me under. I lean back against a large tree trunk, the rough bark digging into my spine as I close my eyes, blocking out the night as I breathe through the pain and queasiness.
Fabric slips off my bent knee, giving a cold gust access to the bare skin of my leg. Alarm bursts through me at the sensation. I look down and find rich crimson velvet piled on the ground next to the moon-bleached white of my thigh.
I’m naked.
Not completely. I’m wearing a heavy cloak, but the T-shirt and leggings I had on before are gone—along with my bra and underwear. I swallow the acid that starts to climb up my throat, and run my shaky hands over the soft fabric I’ve been draped in. The long deep-red cloak has a hood and a golden clasp. Someone attacked me, stripped me down, and left me out in the middle of a forest at night.
What the fuck?