Page 8 of Hell Gate

“Well… Jessica dared me to do it when I got here four years ago.” She ducks her head. “I told her I did, even though I didn’t. But Mrs. Talbot’s son. Supposedly he did it, and that same week he got in a horrible accident. A sinkhole opened up on the road north of town and his car crashed into the crevice. One of his friends confessed to her at his funeral service that they’d been out here smoking.”

“That’s a really sucky coincidence.”

A niggle of sympathy for Mrs. T pulls at me. To live next to this reminder of her son’s last activities before he died must be a heavy weight to bear.

“All I’m saying is, I won’t tell the others if you pretend to do it like I did.”

“Thanks,” I shoot back, not bothering to hide the bite in my tone.

She offers to cover for me, but she’s still part of this, still in on the joke against me. Jessica was whispering to her before they climbed the hill—for all I know, it was her idea in the first place to dare me to run around wiggling my ass at the ruins.

Marie pulls away from me with a spurned expression. Frowning, she trudges down the hill to follow the others.

“Time to get this over with,” I mumble.

Surveying the stone staircase to nowhere with disinterest, I begin to walk up them. The worn stones are slippery with soggy moss. A breath punches out of me halfway up when I lose my footing. I catch myself on the wall of the chapel ruins, stomach churning. The drop from the top step isn’t too far, but it would hurt to hit the ground and crack my skull open on the large stones dotting the ground below.

If other people tried this after a rainy day like I am, I bet they slipped and fell to their death. That’s probably how the legend got started.

At the top, I scuff my boot over the crumbling edge. Tiny pebbles rain down. Sighing, I spare a glance behind me and start my descent with my arms out for balance. As I go, I count to thirteen in my head. Near the bottom, the trees stop rustling, the air going dead. I can’t hear the girls or anything else. The graveyard is silent except for the thud of my boots hitting the last few steps.

My gut twists. These are the types of weird occurrences that follow me everywhere.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to keep up the backwards thing to go through the arch, and my last fuck has just gone missing. I’m ready to get out of here. Spinning around, I lift both middle fingers while I pass through.

As I suspected, absolutely nothing happens. I scored a hundred bucks for doing it, though.

“There,” I shout to the bottom of the hill. “I did your stupid test. Happy?”

Wait. I search the graveyard again, stomach tightening. The girls are nowhere to be found. I’m alone.

A sigh gusts out of me. I knew it. I bet they’re already back in their beds laughing about getting me to do the dumb ritual. Even Marie. I’m sure she’s only been nice to get me to drop my guard, but being friendly isn’t enough to deceive someone with zero ability to trust others. I burned that away long ago in the fire that incinerated the Clarks’ house with Mrs. Clark still inside.

For a second, I thought things could be different.

Stupid. This is what I get for going out on a limb and thinking I was worthy of trying to fit in with people. What the fuck ever. I know better and let myself get played anyway.

An odd, faint sensation tugs at me as I step away from the gate, as if an invisible tether cinches tighter around my middle the further I move.

The strange sense of déjà vu from earlier returns, like part of me recognizes the mossy clumps I’ve trampled beneath my feet. It’s unshakeable. Violet said she could feel it, too. That to her it was like something trying to get out.

As I glare at the stone arch beneath the crumbling staircase, the shimmering air I thought I saw earlier happens again. Small, barely perceptible silvery lines that look like static electricity flicker across the gap in the stones. Then all at once they disappear and my ears pop. My hands fly up to cover them and I blink slowly several times. I imagined that, right?

I’ve got myself half-convinced it’s all in my head until the stillness breaks with a haunting cry that causes all the hair on my body to stand on end. It sounds like someone calls out to me.

I whip around. “Hello?”

The voice sounds again, but the words are garbled, almost sounding like a different language. It’s not one I understand. The words drag like a needle skipping on a warped record.

“Marie?” Silence. “Guys? Okay, haha. Very funny. I hope you filmed my reaction, because that’s the last time you’re getting it.”

A branch snaps to my left, jolting my heart rate. The breeze picks up, the trees overhead rustling. A low, monstrous growl pierces the foggy darkness, then a hot gust moves over the back of my neck. I dart down the hill, officially less than chill.

I catch a whiff of smoke and choke on the rush of fear that clogs my throat. Not again. Please. Not now.

My sweaty hands claw at my neck. Memories of the fire assault me in sharp flashes. There’s no fire. I’m in control. I repeat it to myself with each rushed step until I believe it.

Near the base of the hill, I pull up short with a harassed yelp. Three guys step out to block my path. One seems around my age, the other two maybe a little older. The girls could know them from town. Have they been hiding out the whole time, watching from the woods?

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