Page 25 of His to Haunt

“Let’s find them,” she says, tucking her lips inward, hoping I’ll say yes.

“I don’t know, Kim.”

“You don’t have to. But…I’d like to help,” she adds, keeping her curiosity somewhat in check when she senses my trepidation.

I nod at her, getting up the nerve. It’s like a chore that must be done. I must do it for Rachel.

We look under the bed, confirming the darker shade of wood before pulling it open to reveal something shiny and boxy down inside.

Mad butterflies swarm my stomach, nauseating me with nervousness.

“We shouldn’t pull it out yet, Kimmie.”

“Why?”

“I’m not supposed to look inside it until I’ve read her journal.”

We both slide our bodies out from under the bed.

“Let’s find the journal,” she says, going to the dresser where hidden behind the bottom drawer, as promised, is a brown laptop case and a big black journal. Not a fancy leather-bound diary, but the kind of regular notebook you find in the office or school supply section of the store, with a taped spine and a cardboard cover.

“Leave them there, Kimmie,” I say.

“You don’t have to read it all at once, Leena. Just a little at a time.”

I nod in agreement. “But not now. This will ruin our night. I’ll read it later.”

She puts her hand on my arm comfortingly, her caramel-blonde curls bouncing along the sides of her tan cheeks, hazel eyes sympathetic.

“Okay, hon. When you’re ready.”

“I’m going to get dressed,” I say, going to my luggage.

Kimmie looks over the room chart on the wooden desk while I unpack some more clothes into my closet in search of something to wear out.

“Have you seen the gallery room?”

“Mm, not yet.”

“We should take a look.”

Though I’m eager to finish getting ready and get the heck out of here for a few hours, I can hear the piqued curiosity in her tone, loud and clear.

“Okay,” I agree, hoping this will quelch her need for further exploration. Then, I need some girl time that helps me take a mental break from my sister’s demise.

Reluctantly, we embark on a journey to the gallery room, which comprises the third floor, only to find that the room is locked, and the key is missing from the key chain. Referring to the key chart, we both take turns trying the other two ankh-style keys, but neither of them works.

Kimmie’s defeat is my relief as we head back down to get ready, soon catching a cab into town. Destination Crown Club—the closest nightclub to Moonvine that wasn’t a dive and had a reasonably good rating. High entry fee, though, for non-members. We get there at six p.m., right at the opening.

Strangely, the same car was behind us the minute we got onto Main Street in Moonvine. Followed us outside of town and to the club. Probably is just an odd coincidence since there is only one main road.

Inside the club is so dark that even after my eyes adjust, it’s hard to see. Rock music plays deeper inside the club. It’s as if there are two entrances, and we went in on the wrong side.

We sit at the bar in the lounge, letting our eyes adjust, and that’s where we meet Ritter and Silas.

Silas can almost be described as emo. Dressed in all black, lanky with dark hair, grey eyes, and pasty skin that reminds me of Zand. He’s also broad-shouldered and tall but not as tall as Zand. Wait, why the hell am I comparing him to Zand? It’s just that they could be cousins, the resemblance is uncanny.

Ritter, on the other hand, is slightly tan with a muscular build, brown hair, and mischief in his twinkling brown eyes. His mouth is slightly crooked, the set of his jaw aggressive. He looks like trouble.

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