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The Children on the Hill(91)

Author:Jennifer McMahon
Vi stepped forward to look at the prints. They were too big to be Gran’s. Too small for Old Mac. Who else would come back here?

Eric looked up, shone his light in Vi’s face, blinding her. She put her hand up to shield her eyes.

“Eric!” she scolded. “Quit it.”

He pointed the beam of light all around her, scanning the trees. “Where’s Iris?”

Vi turned to look. “She was right here just a second ago.”

But now she was gone.

Eric’s eyes got huge. “Do you think…” He lowered his voice. “Do you think the Ghoul got her?”

“Iris?” Vi called.

Nothing.

Only the sound of the creek.

“We’ve got to find her,” Vi said.

Eric nodded, still sweeping the area around him with the light. “Iris?” he called, voice squeaky and soft.

They held still, listening.

Vi heard a cracking sound, a branch breaking, from over her right shoulder.

“This way,” she said, moving in the direction of the sound. She called out to Iris again, shouting as loud as she could. The trees got thick and closer together as they moved deeper into the woods. She felt everything closing in around her, like a hand tightening its grip.

She heard someone running up ahead.

What if that isn’t Iris? she wondered. What if they were really chasing Eric’s Ghoul? What if they were heading right into a trap?

She remembered his drawing: the pale face, dark eyes, and black hood.

She pictured those dark eyes staring back at her, black as a starless night sky.

Up ahead, she caught sight of a shadow moving through the trees.

“Iris?” she called.

A branch snapped. Then another.

A grunting cry from up ahead.

“It’s not her,” Eric said from just behind her. “It’s the Ghoul!”

He was moving the flashlight through the trees, but Vi didn’t see anything at all.

Then the light caught on a pale face with a dark hood.

Eric yelped.

But this was no ghoul.

It was a girl in a black hooded sweatshirt. Vi’s sweatshirt. Vi’s twin. Iris was standing beside a tree, a ghostly white paper birch.

“Iris,” Vi called. “What are you doing?”

“Go away,” Iris said, her voice a twisted snarl. “Leave me alone.”

“No,” Vi said, moving closer, stepping slowly.

And Iris leaned down, picked up a baseball-sized rock, and threw it at Vi.

She was so surprised, she didn’t have time to duck, and the rock caught her on the chin, sending her reeling, her jaw exploding with pain. She fell back on the ground.

“I said, leave me alone!” Iris screamed.

Eric hurried to Vi, dropped to his knees. “Vi?” he said, voice high and squeaky. “You’re bleeding, Vi! Oh, crap. Crap.”

“I’m okay,” she said, sitting up, rubbing at her chin. The rock had barely grazed her. An inch or two up and it might have broken her jaw, cracked her teeth. She got back on her feet, brushing past Eric and moving toward Iris, who was crouched down now, hands wrapped around her knees. And the sounds she was making—deep-throated growls and sobs—were more animal than human. Vi took a slow step forward, hands limp at her sides, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.

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