Page 84 of When the Woods Go Silent

I wash my hands in the sink, swiping at the blood on my neck. The skin feels smooth and unbroken, and when I go into the bathroom to look in the mirror, I find that the place where Torrence bit me is completely healed. My chest tingles with excitement, knowing that’s another sign pointing to magic.

And then I huff in frustration, realizing it’s actually just another story I can’t tell without looking like I’m making crap up.

Rose has always indulged my belief in magic, but I know she doesn’t actually share it. And she already doesn’t like Torrence. Telling her that he bit me would probably just make her bug me to stop seeing him, claiming he and Arlo must have some sort of kinky fetish going on.

I don’t care. Even if Torrence were butt-ugly and thought my clit was on my left thigh, I would be seeing him again now.

I need more information, and my gut is telling me he has it. I go back through each of the times we’ve met up, trying to remember anything magical that’s happened.

I come up empty, though. Sure, he’s done some strange things, like disappearing in the middle of the night to go dobusiness. I sigh and slump against the sink. Maybe he really is just a kinky drug dealer, and I need to stop chasing something I’ll never catch.

Despondency begins to thread its way through my thoughts, erasing all of the excitement I had a few moments ago. Maybe it’s time to grow up. I saw something magical when I was a kid, but maybe it was only passing through. Maybe magic is extinct, or maybe I’m just not worthy, like some side character in a fantasy book who ends up in a supporting role while their friend becomes the hero.

I trudge into my bedroom and throw on some presentable clothes, run a brush through my hair, and slap on some red lipstick. Anything more than that feels like too much effort - this morning feels like it should already be afternoon.

I should be more excited about the shop’s second official day open, but I know it’s more likely to be a long, boring day with only a handful of customers to help. If only I could just skip right past the awkward start-up phase and go straight to the booming business part.

Grabbing a granola bar and an apple, I make my way back to the shop, unlocking the front door just as Rose bolts up the porch stairs.

“Sorry I’m late, be down in a sec!” she calls, rushing past me in a near sprint. It was too fast to tell for sure, but her voice sounded husky, like it does when she’s been crying. That Kier dude better not be giving her a hard time. Torrence told me how much of a douchey playboy the ginger is, and I don’t care how much Rose likes a slutty guy. He won’t get away with hurting her.

I carry the folding A-frame chalk sign outside to the sidewalk and admire the pretty flowers Rose drew around the words“Now Open” and on the other side, “You’d look hotter with a book in your hand.” Even though I wrote the words, they still make me grin. Everyone looks sexier when they read.

Now, if only there were some tourists walking the streets. The sidewalks are empty, and I’m tired of being patient.

A flash of movement in the trees across the street snags my attention though, and I frown at the early-morning shadows. Is there someone hiking there? The figure is too small to be Torrence, although my brain tries to fit him into the shape, wishing he’d come back and tell me what the crap is going on in his boy brain. Whatever happened to his sister must have been traumatic.

Then I hear my name.

Or at least, I think I do. It’s more like a few notes on the breeze, too soft to be bird song, but I swear it sounds just like my name.

The figure moves closer, and I gasp as my memories collide with my real life and a spark of excitement ignites down my spine. “The fae woman,” I whisper, already moving to cross the street. Rose will be downstairs soon enough. I can take a few minutes to investigate this, because if it’s really her, I’m going to be so freaking vindicated. I pat my pockets, checking for my phone - crap. It’s still inside. How the heck am I ever supposed to get proof?

“Ruby.”

The voice echoes again and I hurry to cross the street, phone or not. This time I’m dead sure it’s my name. There’s a flash of pale clothing in the distance, weaving between shadowy trunks. Something that might be a swish of long hair. A sparkle of gold hangs in the air, as though the morning fog is made of gold spider’s filament. My heart is pounding as I hurry through the undergrowth, trying to follow the path the figure took, even though they’re too far ahead to see now.

What if this actually is the woman I’ve dreamed about all these years? What if she lives in these woods, and the magic I saw that day as a kid is really, truly, within reach? What if I’mright?

Then another thought makes my feet stutter on the mossy ground. What if this is the Sweet Dreamer who lured Rose into the woods? What if her magic has something to do with why Rose was suddenly sleepwalking? I suddenly feel really reckless and stupid, following something I can barely see deeper into the woods. Rose would say I had a death wish.

I don’t, and I did promise her not to hike alone.

I need to be more patient about this. Smarter. Besides, finding magic won’t be much use if I end up caught in a fae trap for all eternity.

I turn back reluctantly, the heavy weight of adult knowledge and responsibility overtaking my childlike excitement. I can’t abandon the shop, either. And the police were literally just here, looking for two missing women not much younger than me. What if this is an actual serial killer, luring me into the woods?

I’d be an idiot to keep running through the trees alone.

If the fae woman is real, I’ll see her eventually, right? I’ve kept the faith this many years. I can keep it another day, at least until I talk to Torrence again. Maybe he even knows who she is, assuming he really does know something about magic.

The breeze whips around me, hissing my name again, but the sound is less like a human voice now. Fearsome, like the crack of lightning in a storm. I pause, waiting and listening a beat longer. Then I hear the crashing noise of something large shoving through the brush, and fast, too. It’s heading in my direction, and I know enough not to stick around if there’s a predator nearby.

A vicious snarl that’s way too close sends me skittering through the trees, sprinting toward the road. I risk a singleglance over my shoulder, but all I can see is the dense, dark woods keeping their secrets close. Branches crack and a voice shouts, but I keep running.

As the scream echoes again, it sounds like a bobcat. Maybe even a pair of them fighting, hissing and snarling. Whatever it is, I sure as shit don’t need to be within sniffing distance.

I’m winded and freaking spooked by the time I find the sidewalk again, panting and wiping a line of sweat from my forehead. What thehellwas I thinking?

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