Page 11 of The Blairville Legacies

Where were all these birds coming from?It was as if this city was suffering from a plague of ravens.

“Back then, only students lived here, but they were eventually moved to the Vanderwood campus.”

I didn't take my eyes off the massively crowded power lines and tried to ignore the penetratingly laughing clown on the windowsill of one of the houses. He laughed at my cursed fate.

“Why didn't they continue to let them live here?” I asked with interest.

“There were some pretty strange things happening down here, and the students weren't always in control.”

Not in control?What did she mean by that? Perhaps my initial concern that teenagers gone wild were wreaking havoc here had not been so far from reality after all. However, I could not suppress my curiosity.

“Strange things?”

Mum hesitated again. Then she stopped the car and turned it off before reaching for my hand. Hers were so cold that I froze.

“Just promise me you'll be a bit more careful around here, and always make sure you're not out on your own outside the city center.”

Her look had become more serious.

Confusion spread through my chest.

How was this place any different from crime-ridden Sacramento, if not even safer? What was she afraid of? Of the wolves? Of the storm? And why had we come here, of all places, if it was supposed to be so dangerous?

As she let go of my hands and tried to avert her gaze, I reached for her hand again.

“Mum? What do you mean?”

She shook her head, avoiding my gaze.

“Just take care of yourself. There are crazy people here, like everywhere else in the world, and I don't want anything to happen to my baby.”

With those words, she pulled me close, and I couldn't help but return her hug.

She was worried about me. I could feel it. Whereas my concern for her health was much bigger. I hoped that she would soon feel better and that we could then put all this behind us once and for all. It had become like a recurring nightmare that kept me awake night after night.

“Mum, I'm not a little kid anymore. You don't have to worry about me. I know how to defend myself.”

And I didn't mean the nine-week karate class my mother had forced me to take in 8th grade. I really was old enough.

“I know, darling, I know. But you know I'll never stop worrying about you.”

I knew that. And I worried about her just as much.

We sat like that for a while until she broke away from me. Tears that had gathered in her eyes were now running down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of her blouse and smoothed her shoulder-length dark blonde hair.

“We should go inside now,” she finally said softly.

Inside?

Curiously, I jerked my head around.

Mum had parked at the side of the road, and as I unbuckled my seatbelt, pushed open the door - which was now possible again - and swung myself out of the car, I realized why.

The driveway we were standing in front of was overgrown, and the wooden garden fence, from which the white paint was peeling, lay across the withered front garden of a large house. It was exactly the same color as the fence, except the paint hadn't peeled off quite as badly.

I looked around.

The neighboring properties looked neater, which was probably due to the fact that no one had apparently lived in this building for a long time. It had to be the house my mother had talked about.

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