Page 52 of When Death Whispers

I am completely and utterly out of my depth. A liability. Ahumanin a world of things that should not exist.

And still…

My stupid, weak,normalhuman heart cannot and will not walk away.

I open my mouth, about to say something,anything,but she chooses that moment to lick the spoon still coated in honey in a really slow, really deliberate way that mimics the way I teased her earlier with the peanut butter.Touché, Silver.

“Was that the last of the peanut butter then?” she asks, taking me off guard, and I straighten back up.

“Uh, yeah. But I ordered more. Because you, apparently, have a new sandwich-loving monster roommate.”

She raises her eyebrows at that, and I wait to see if she’ll tell me more about this other entity stalking us, but she doesn’t. Instead she grabs her mug and heads over to the couch, plopping down and turning on the TV to some renovation show.

I’m sure she’ll just ignore me and dismiss anything that just happened between us until?—

“What movie should we watch?”

* * *

Two moviesand several cups of tea later, my sides actually hurt from laughing.

I didn’t even think Parkercouldlaugh like that—loud, unfiltered, with her head thrown back and eyes watering from whatever dumb scene just played out on screen. But she did. And now she’s curled on the couch beside me, blanket tangled around her legs, a mug of tea cradled in both hands, cheeks pink from laughter.

God, she’s fucking radiant when she lets herself feel something good.

We’re still giggling over some ridiculous line when a knock rattles the front door. Parker jumps, and her tea sloshes over the rim of her mug, splattering onto the floor.

“Shit,” she mutters, already setting the mug down and reaching for a towel.

“I’ve got the door,” I say, rising to my feet. “Probably the groceries.”

I leave her in the living room and head toward the front door, weaving through the maze of locks she’s installed. There’s a metallic clack as I undo the final bolt, and when I finally pull it open, the outside greets me with a fresh breeze, the sun still low in the sky, casting deep shadows on the porch.

It feels unfairly normal. Warm, blue skies, birds chirping. It’s as if nothing insane has ever happened. The kind of day that shouldn’t exist when monsters do.

Several paper bags are sitting at the bottom of the steps, and the delivery person is already gone, the street quiet and devoid of cars.

“Need help?” Parker calls out from inside the house, but I’m already crossing the porch to grab them.

“Nah, I’m goo?—”

My foot crashes through one of the planks. One second I’m upright, and the next, my leg is swallowed by splintered wood, sinking to the knee.

“Fuck—” I hiss, but I don’t even get a chance to curse properly before the shadows surge.

Black tendrils slither up from the hole beneath me, spilling across the porch like smoke. They twist around my calf, then lash up and coil around my throat. My lungs seize as energy tears out of me like it’s being siphoned directly from my veins. My vision doubles. The air warps. My legs give.

Everything blurs. My limbs go leaden.

No. Not again.

Not like at the ranch.

I try to shout—to tell Parker to run, togo—but my mouth won’t work. No sound escapes.

Shadows pour into my throat, spilling into my lungs like water. My chest is on fire. My heart slams once. Twice. Then it slows.

“Hudson?” Parker’s voice filters in from somewhere behind me.

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