Page 64 of The Hallows Queen

I thumb through some of her recent posts, looking for clues on her whereabouts, and get lost as I scroll. There are photos of her downtown, in the hospital visiting her dad, at the beach, then I come across one of her in her car the week she moved back to Luxington. The caption readsHome Sweet Home – Luxington.

I take a screenshot and open my photos app so I can zoom in farther, searching the background for a location.

Thankfully, the photo was taken during the day, so the location is easily recognizable as downtown Luxington.

I zoom a little closer, spotting a street sign.

First Street.

And I know the storefront behind her is on Main.

I grin, tossing my phone between my legs and throwing my car into gear, heading for First and Main.

It’s a long shot – a very fucking long shot – that this would be her place of residence, but what else do I have to go on? I can’t get her out of my head. All I want to do tonight is suffocate between her thighs. If all else fails,Amethystis a few blocks from First Street.

I pull a cigarette out, slip it between my lips, and light it as I hold the steering wheel with my knee. Rolling the window down, my head starts floating from the pill I took as I drive mindlessly across town, so much so that I don’t even bother turning on the stereo.

Ten minutes later, I’m slowing my car as I turn onto Main Street.

It’s past seven, so most of the evening traffic has dissipated, and the street is mostly clear. A few people here and there are walking down the little strip, either heading to or from dinner, but nightlife hasn’t taken over for the day yet so it’s calm.

I read the street signs out loud as I pass through the intersections –fifth, fourth, third, second,and finallyfirst.

Parking along the road, I look around.

There’s a coffee shop on the corner, a post office flanking that, and a restaurant across the street.

A big condo building sits on the far side of the street, towering over downtown and casting a massive shadow. I narrow my eyes, pursing my lips to the side and humming in thought.

Might as well.

Turning off my car, I grab my phone and step out into the evening. The sun is beginning to set, turning the sky to orange and pinks above my head, but the air is still humid from the day, sticking to my skin as I cross the street to the building.

I walk up the entrance for the parking garage, keeping a lookout for any cars that may come shooting downwards on their way out. When I reach the second floor, I head down the aisle of parked cars in search of her SUV.

Most of the cars are high end – Range Rover, Mercedes, Porsche. It isn’t surprising, as most Luxington natives have generations of wealth running through their veins, and I know that she has money, so this might be right where I need to be.

I light a cigarette to calm my nerves as I keep walking, searching for that shiny black Cayenne I pinned her against only hours ago.

When I don’t find it parked on the second floor, I walk up to the third.

She probably doesn’t even live here, you fucking stalker.

My mind yells at me, telling me I’m crazy for being here, for looking for her, her car, her house, but all rational and sane thoughts have vanished. All I can see inside my mind is the look on her face when she comes, the roll to her eyes when the pleasure crests and becomes too intense, she can’t hold herself up any longer.

And I need more.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I stroll through the third floor of the parking garage, my eyes glazing over a little as the cars all start to blend.

The dim lights hanging overhead do nothing to help the fog hanging over my head, the only light shining into the garage coming from either end where there are openings looking out onto the street. Before I know it, I’m at the end again, turning the corner and heading up to the fourth floor.

This is fucking useless.

I hear the screech of tires as a car enters the garage on the ground floor and put a kick behind my steps as I start inspecting the cars parked on either side of me.

When I’m ready to give up and go home, the brain fog clears, and I spot a black Cayenne parked at the very end of the aisle.

My heart pumps harder as my legs move faster, racing toward the vehicle in hopes that it’s hers.

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