Page 62 of Firefly Effect

you can’t catch me,

I’m the Firefly Man.

I drop the card so fast, you would think it was on fire. When I look down at the envelope in my other hand, I realize something is imprinted on the wax seal. Against my better judgment, I hold it closer, re-seal the flap, and squint in an attempt to make out what’s there.

A cry rips through my throat and tears fill my eyes. That isn’t a design. Pressed into the wax is a tiny insect—red, black, and yellow with big beaded eyes, long slender legs, and wings.

I don’t have to look closer to know with all certainty that these are the remains of a dead firefly, and the red wax is supposed to signify blood.

My entire body is shaking, and my heart is pounding. I race to find my phone.

Lincoln picks up on the first ring, surely sensing something is wrong for me to call him so soon. “Evie?”

I take a big gulp of air, trying to steady my heart rate, but it’s impossible. “Lincoln, he was here.”

“Who?” I can hear his panic. “Who was there?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing how crazy this will sound. “The Firefly Man. I think he was in my bar tonight.” I press my palm to my chest, hoping to calm my body’s reactions, but nothing helps.

“Evie, I’m on my way back to you. But why do you think he was there?”

“He left me a note.”

“What?” Lincoln booms. “He left you a note?”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Behind the bar. When I left to go meet you and Lucy earlier, I thought it weird that the door to the bar was left wide open. I figured Armando just didn’t close it all the way, but now…”

“It’s okay, Evie. Are you in your room?”

“Y-yes.” I let out a breath as the terror lessens, starting to feel a little ridiculous now that I’m talking to Lincoln. “I’m sure everything is fine. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have by now, right?”

Lincoln is quiet for too many seconds.

“Linc?”

“I’m sorry—I’m parking at the curb now. Stay on the phone with me, pack a quick bag, then head outside. You’re coming home with me.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

LINCOLN

Work is the worst kind of torture this morning. Evie crashed on my couch the night before, since Francine was already asleep in the guest room. I insisted Evie take my bed, but she was terrified Lucy would wake up in the middle of the night and find her there, and she didn’t want to take the cottage without Francine knowing. In the end, I had to allow it.

At six in the morning, I was able to head Francine off in the hallway to warn her about our guest. I told Francine the story, we called the police, then I rushed Evie back to Firefly, where Gabe was waiting for her. He did a sweep of the entire building, even checking closets, the attic, and anything that opened.

Unfortunately, Gabe didn’t find any sign of forced entry or evidence of any person being there other than Evie. “What about that camera?” he asked Evie, pointing to it.

She frowned and shook her head. “Those haven’t worked since Patrick left. He said he was going to send someone to fix them, but he might have forgotten.”

What the hell? I didn’t know Evie was living in a busy bar with no security cameras to back her up in case something happened.

Gabe promised to stay until Kyle got there for his shift, so I headed back to my place to start my routine, sans the run. I would have to work off the steam later.

Now I’m stuck in a session with Lilith, a woman who likes to treat our visits like a coffee date. She asks me just as many questions about myself as I ask her. It’s inappropriate, seeing as she isn’t Evelyn Vaughn—not even close.

I humor Lilith, understanding enough about my profession and the people who come here to know that she booked the session for a reason. However she chooses to use that time is up to her. All I can do is try to steer her in the right direction—to look deep within herself rather than to try to coax me into asking her out.

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