Page 20 of Madness Blooms

“Oh?” He perks up at the prospect. “I’m glad you’re being more social. I was worried about you for a good while there, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m in the middle of making pizza. We’ve got the Super Nintendo fired up on the big screen.” I tilt my head toward the living room. “You’re welcome to chill with us for a while. I’m sure Kyla wouldn’t mind. She’s been wanting to meet you, anyway.”

“I would, but I have groceries in the car. Perishables. Gotta get those into the fridge.” He plants a kiss on my lips. “You two have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“We won’t,” I say, returning the kiss. “Drive safely. Call me tomorrow.”

He nods and treks back to his vehicle. I stand in the foyer, staring after Luke like a lovestruck idiot as he pulls out of the driveway and disappears down the road. I pry myself from my trance long enough to shut the door and attend to the pizza.

“I see the boyfriend retreated again,” Kyla remarks.

I pop the pizza in the oven and set the timer. “Be nice. He’s just shy, that’s all.” I grab a glass from the cupboard, swipe a cold can of cola from the fridge, and fix myself up a homemade highball. “He’ll probably agree to the double date, so you’ll get to meet him then.”

I hear her snort in amusement as I take a swig of my drink.

“Ever the elusive one,” she mutters.

I hang out in the living room, observing Kyla’s attempts to clear the arcade mode when the timer beeps. After turning off the oven, I slide the pan out and search the drawers for a pizza cutter, muttering some curses as my stomach growls. After a minute, I’m about to throw in the towel when I spot the utensil in the sink. Dirty. Of course.

“Give me a second,” I say to Kyla. “Austin used the damn pizza cutter again, and?—”

I shriek as the lights go out.

“Shit,” Kyla yells. “Are you okay, Grace? Where’s your emergency kit? With all the flashlights and stuff?”

My tongue feels like lead as I hope and pray that this power outage is an act of God—and not that fucking freak show trying to screw with me again. I take a moment to calm myself, breathing in and out through my nose to avoid hyperventilating. “I’ll go get it.”

I cautiously make my way to the hall, locating the closet and rummaging through the supplies and other items. I find the emergency kit tucked in the corner on the middle shelf, grab it, kick the door closed, and head for the living room.

But I don’t find anyone there.

“Kyla?” I say, my voice shaky. The only sources of light come from the surrounding houses and the slivers of moonlight that sneak in through the blinds. “Where are you?”

“In the kitchen,” she replies.

After setting the emergency kit on the coffee table, I grab a flashlight. I click it on, but the light is weak. I tap it, hoping to revive it, but the battery seems nearly drained. Frustration builds within me as I search the kit for a fresh pack of batteries. Suddenly, Kyla appears beside me, making my heart leap into my throat.

“Fuck!” I cry out. “You scared me half to death.” It’s only now that I realize she’s holding a knife, one that I’m sure she took from the knife block in the kitchen. “What’s that for?”

“Just in case,” she answers, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I don’t wanna spook you or anything, but …” She gestures outside toward one of the neighbors. “We’re the only house without power. I don’t want to assume the worst, but if someone cut the electricity …”

I fumble with the batteries, swapping out only one of the two old ones before a crash sounds from deeper in the house. My eyes dart warily around the room and down the hall toward the basement.

“Please tell me that’s a rat or something,” Kyla murmurs, squeezing the hilt of the knife for dear life.

My stomach twists into a knot. The lingering smell of popcorn and pizza—and that damn misguided highball—makes me want to hurl. “I don’t know. I … I hope it’s not that serial killer,” I blurt out, the words coming before I can stop them.

It’s too late now. I can’t shove the suggestion back into the box. With the boldness of an action movie hero—or the foolishness of a horror movie character—Kyla springs into action. She brandishes the knife and strides toward the basement.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice thick with apprehension.

“I’m going to investigate.” She motions to the flashlight, and I switch the other battery and toss it to her. “Get that other one fixed up and keep any medical supplies on hand. If I don’t come back …”

“Don’t eventhinkabout finishing that sentence,” I bite out.

She gives me a small, reassuring smile. “Stay here and don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

“Thank you,” I squeak, pathetic as a mouse as she opens the door to the basement and vanishes down the stairs.

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