Page 128 of Burning Embers

Shining my flashlight in both directions, I see that there’s a loft directly in front of me, though I don’t spot any ladder to climb up in order to reach it. Bales of hay line the far wall, and wooden boards have been stacked haphazardly against a thin pillar.

There’s no other door that I can see, which means Lissa must still be in here. I would’ve seen her leave through the front door or windows.

“Lissa, I promise. I won’t tell anyone. Are you meeting someone?”

I reach the very end of the barn and breathe a sigh of relief when I catch sight of Lissa’s tangled brown hair and pink pajamas.

She stands in the far corner of the room, moonlight from the hole in the roof casting her in a preternatural white light. She doesn’t flinch when I approach her, keeping her back to me.

“Lissa,” I say, reaching for her shoulder. I spin her around.

Lissa stares at me blankly, not a single hint of recognition in her gaze. She sways unsteadily on her feet.

“Lissa?” I ask, instinctively waving my hand in front of her face.

She doesn’t even blink.

Is she…sleepwalking?

That could explain why she didn’t hear me calling for her earlier.

Concern for my foster sister eclipses my anger over her actions from only moments before.

“Shit, Lis,” I murmur, knowing she can’t hear me.

She’s probably freezing. She may even need to get her feet cleaned and bandaged.

I study my foster sister’s face intently before something over her shoulder captures my attention.

I frown and shine my flashlight in that direction.

A scream bubbles in my throat but refuses to erupt.

In the corner of the barn, directly where Lissa was standing, is a body.

Adeadbody.

All I can see is abnormally pale skin, blonde hair, and terrified, crystalline eyes. And there, on the center of her forehead, is a strange symbol painted in blood—a large circle with a triangle inside of it.

“Oh my god.” I think I’m going to be sick.

Lissa moves closer to me until her shoulder touches my own, and she peers down once more at the body.

Then she opens her mouth wide and begins to scream.

Forty-Four

IZZY

The woman’s name is Alixandra.

She’s twenty-seven years old and was born only a few miles away from Hale and Gerry. She works as a barista at the local coffee shop and is engaged to be married.

But I suppose I should stop thinking about her in the present tense.

Because she’s dead.

Murdered.

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