Page 72 of Midnights
I laugh, shaking my head. “It was Florida all over again.”
Her eyes widen before she groans dramatically, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me.” She peeks through her fingers. “Except this time, I wasn’t wearing anything I could use as a weapon.”
I snort at the memory, but it does the trick. I feel the last bit of tension fade.
I'm not going to lie, the moment he grabbed my arm, there was this weird pain. I don’t know how to explain it and I don’t feel like trying.
I chalk it up to paranoia or maybe just the fact that his grip was too tight. No use dwelling on it now.
Rachel yawns and stretches before grabbing my arm, tugging me toward the bedroom. “Come on, let’s crash.”
I let her pull me along, forcing my mind to focus on tomorrow. Not some drunk idiot with grabby hands. Not the strange man outside. Not even the feeling still crawling under my skin.
I’m back in the bar, standing face to face with the guy who grabbed me. His grip is still firmly around my arm. Only this time, I’m not empty-handed.
I'm holding my dagger and the stone in the hilt glows faintly, casting eerie shadows between us.
I watch his eyes widen the second he sees it. “How?” He whispers, and I can barelyhearhim. But Idon'tmiss the panic in his voice. He drops my arm like it burned him and bolts for the door.
Before I can react, everything shifts.
Thebar dissolves around me, melting into darkness. Twisting trees emerge in its place, their gnarled branches stretch overhead, cracking against a wind that wasn’t there before. The shadows between the trees seem deeper than they should be, and the air feels thick.
A sharp gust whips through, tangling my hair, sending a chill rolling down my spine. My heart kicks up, and the unease curling in my stomach feels a lot like a warning. I look over and see a raven sitting on a branch nearby.
“Raven, trust your instincts. If something feels off, it probably is.”
I whip around when I hear my grandpa’s voice, but no one is there.
His words settle over me like a comforting weight. I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a slow breath.
At first, there’s nothing. Just the rush of the wind and the racing of my pulse. But then the air shifts again and the chaotic gusts seem to bend, adjusting to the steady rhythm of my breath. My heartbeat evens out, and for a second, the tension unravels.
I only get another beat of whatever that was and pain slices through my arm.
I gasp, grabbing the spot where the guy grabbed me, looking down to see black veins spreading down my arm. I push against a bruise that shouldn’t be there, but the ache throbs like it’s real. I tighten my grip around the dagger, and the glow from the stone pulses around me.
The wind howls louder and I try to open my eyes, but the force of it shoves against me, whipping my hair across my face, blinding me.
“Grandpa?” My voice is barely a whisper against the storm. “Where did you go?”
No answer. Just the trees. The wind. The darkness pressing in.
My pulse pounds against my ribs. I see faces flash through my mind in a blur. Rachel. Cam. Kane. The man from the bar. My grandfather.
“Feel the energy around you, Raven. It’s always guiding you.”
My grandpa’s voice echoes again, wrapping around me like a lifeline. But I can't see him.
I jolt awake, breathing heavily. The ghost of his words still lingers while the dream clings to me like static. It’s there but slipping away the harder I try to reach it. The only thing that sticks is a memory of training with my grandpa.
I stare up at the ceiling while my memories start pulling me backward. Back to the backyard where he first made me do it.
How am I supposed to fight without seeing?I’d ask him, frustration boiling over.When would I ever need to fight blindfolded?
The thought of it still makes me laugh. It drove me crazy back then, but looking back, maybe he had a point.
The memory unravels in sharp clarity, the warmth of the sun coming through the trees, the smell of wildflowers. I can almost feel the steady weight of my grandpa’s hands as he tied the blindfold tightly over my eyes.
