Page 123 of Grave Possession

Mallory:

I sense a movie marathon in the future.

Jessie:

Sounds groovy.

Mallory:

Ugh, I was really hoping you didn’t hear that.

Jessie:

No such luck, I’m going to use it forever now.

Her response brings a smile to my face. I pocket my phone, content to sit in the silence watching the flames flicker. I’m proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone, maybe doing it every once in a while wouldn’t be so terrible.

“Groovy?” Nox says from the chair beside me, wholly scaring the hell out of me.

My heart just about ejects from my chest as he laughs at me. “Holy shit, where did you come from?” I gasp, trying to regulate my racing pulse.

“Got a girl date?”

“Maybe…”

“Can I come?”

“If I tell you no, would you listen?”

“Probably not,” he smirks, loudly scooting his chair across the wooden deck until it butts up against mine.

“Good. I like knowing you’re around even if I can’t see you.”

“That’s not likely to change anytime soon.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” I reply, leaning over to rest my head on his shoulder as his arm invadesmyarmrest.

“So,” he says, dragging out the word. “Who’s Bellamy?”

Chapter Seventy-two

Nixon

Night of the Haunt.

“Do you smell that?” I whisper.

Viktor looks over to me, nodding slightly. The blood smeared across my chest might not be fake, but it doesn’t smell near as fresh as what’s wafting through the trees on the cool October breeze. Hunger constricts tight around my gut, reawakening the struggle I was hoping to avoid tonight.

We just fucking ate.

Glancing over to Viktor, I see the same battle waging within him. The fight to suppress the ravenous thirst for blood. This is not the place to lose your fucking mind, and go on a spree. Even if it could be written off as another tragic tale of the Henderson Mill.

“What do you want to do?” I grind out, trying to keep composure. It’s pointless, trying to save face, the man next to me knows me better than any other alive.

“Let’s go see what happened. We’ll probably have toalert Lennox.” I nod. He’s right. This isn’t Willowdale, where a victim can just be written off as missing along with the body. People disappear in our neck of the woods all the time, never returning from a camping trip or nighttime hike. The things lurking in our forest are hungry, rarely leaving any evidence behind in case the “cops” investigate.

They don’t.

---