Page 46 of Marked By Night

“We’ll circle back to this conversation when we’re not in danger from unseen magical forces, missy,” I grumble, wagging my finger at her.

Taking a deep breath, I look out the window again. “If I’m not out in ten minutes, I want you to get in the driver’s seat and get out of here as fast as possible.” She starts to protest, but I hold my finger up to stop her. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right until Dante gets here.”At least I hope so, anyway, but I don’t voice that thought aloud.

Before she can protest further, I yank open my door and rush toward our duplex. When I reach the front door, I find it slightly ajar. The sight makes my stomach sink to my toes. I know I locked it before we left because Ialwayslock it. Which means someone has been here already. Or is currently in there. Great. Frustration surges through me. How do these people already know who I am, when I didn’t even know until a few hours ago?

I don’t dwell on it though, instead, I flick open my switchblade and take a moment to calm my nerves by running my fingers over Skylar’s necklace. Then I discreetly make my way inside with something unseen urging me onwards like the phantom hands of fate.

Pausing in the doorway, I listen for anything out of the ordinary. There’s no sound other than my slightly heavy breathing and the soft pad of my footsteps against the hardwood. Which is odd. Usually, our duplex is filled with noise. Whether it’s the coffee machine in the kitchen beeping for water, or the neighbor’s yappy little dog barking a few houses down. It’s never silent.

Well, guess I’ll be using the training Ben taught me after all. How to clear rooms. Thinking about that bastard makes my blood surge, threatening to send the rage I locked down back to the surface. I don’t allow it to though, I need to be clearheaded. Pushing that fiasco out of my mind, I quickly scan the entrance and yank open the coat closet door to find it completely empty. Phew.

Now, where should I search first, the kitchen or the bedrooms?

My answer comes a few seconds later when I hear a faint noise from the kitchen. That’s exactly my luck, considering in the movies there always seems to be a knife-wielding psycho in the kitchen. Plus, I’m blonde and everyone knows the slashers always prefer the hot blondes. Wonderful.

Good thing you can take on slashers, huh?

With my switchblade poised to strike, I stealthily dash around the entrance, but to my disappointment—I mean relief—there’s no one waiting for me to stab them. No masked man wielding a butcher’s knife. The noise is the drip coming from our sink. It’s leaky and has never been fixed.

I waltz over to open the cabinet above the stove, pushing the half-empty boxes of cereal and crackers out of the way. I’m too short and I’m forced to stand on my tiptoes to reach the old coffee can where I stashed the money from Reed. I pop the top and shove the wad of cash down my bra with a grimace. I hate sweaty boob money as much as the next person, but the stack won’t fit in these shorts and I’m not taking any chances.

If things go sideways with my—er, mates… Ash and I will need money to survive. If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s to always have a contingency plan.

With meticulously choreographed movements, I make my way back to the living room and turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. I have every inch of this duplex committed to memory and I know each of the boards that squeak or make noise when you step on them. I dutifully avoid those until I reach the bathroom and grab the handle, nudging it open.

I’m relieved to find there’s no one out in the open, but I toss open the shower curtain just in case. I let out a deep breath when there’s no scary monster in my shower.

Yes, I have a somewhat irrational fear of someone hiding behind the shower curtain. Can you imagine being midstream and someone pops out of that bad boy?

Yeah, you’d end up with pee everywhere.

Screw that. Check the curtain before you squat. My life motto right there.

Ashley’s room is next, and her door is already open. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, but I open her closet to be safe. Nothing.

Her go-bag is exactly where she said it was, underneath her bed. Hopefully, she packed enough essentials because who knows what we’re doing or where we’ll be going from here. As I’m pulling it out from under the bed, the zipper breaks and all her shit tumbles out, scattering across the floor. I groan and start shoveling it back into her backpack.

Sheesh, she has a lot of stuff packed.

Her words from earlier pop into my head.“Have you ever thought of leaving here? Leaving town, I mean. Like after the festival?”

My stomach sinks as I finish putting the last of her stuff away. Was she planning on running away with or without me?A conversation for another day.

I make my way into my room, which is also the last hiding place. A switchblade to the chest will kill anybody though, right? Merely need to get to them before they can get to me.

My door springs open, revealing a giant freaking mess. My room is trashed, and all the pages of my precious book collection are ripped to shreds and are scattered everywhere. My clothes are strewn across the room alongside every item in my closet. Guess there’s no way I’ll be grabbing extra clothes now.

Whoever did it even upended my bed, cutting it open so that the springs are falling out. It looks like a warzone, but unfortunately, that’s not the worst part.

Someone strapped our neighbor to a metal chair in the center of the room. They tied her arms behind her back and both of her feet to the chair legs with a rope. Judging by the faint glow surrounding it, I’d say it’s not a normal rope either. That thought gives me pause. Is our sweet little neighbor not human?

When she sees me, she starts struggling against her bindings, and her wide ancient eyes meet mine. “Bedi! Are you okay? Who did this to you?”

“Mmergh.”

Right she’s gagged. Duh.

The first thing I do is cut the gag out of her mouth, but as soon as I do, all the sound rushes back into the house. The onslaught of noise makes me jump and I almost nick Bedi with my switchblade. What the actual hell?

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