Page 50 of His to Haunt

“I’m not a mind reader, Leena. Not totally. It’s only the loudest words that get through. I’m tired of hearing her name. Nothing can be done about it. They’ve... Just forget it.“

“What? They, who?”

“The council. You know nothing of it because it is none of your business, Leena. I’ll say no more. I want you to forget Rachel.”

“What are you talking about? Tell me what has happened to her, Zand!”

“She’s gone. There is no bringing her back.”

This time, I successfully jerk my hand from him. “But you do know what happened to her, don’t you?” I ask, instantly regretting it. I ask too many questions for somebody who wants to stay alive.

I quickly stand, heading to the door before he can protest. But then he appears ahead of me impossibly once more.

“It’s okay. I don’t want to know,” I lie. “Just let me go.”

He leans back against the door, bringing his fingers to his chin.

“I see. So, you think it was me,” he says. “But I didn’t hurt Rachel. She’s a Byron.”

I nod repeatedly. “Okay, I believe you. I do. Now, let me go.”

Frustration crosses his face before he curtly nods, turning and opening the door. I rush out into the night air, and when the door shuts behind me, I glance back. He’s right behind me.

“I’ll walk you,” his voice whispers on the wind.

“No, I’m fine,” I say, quickening my pace.

He says nothing, shadowing me from behind.

I speed-walk through the hedge maze. But the faster I move to get away, the more fear-fueled adrenaline floods me, my heart racing, my lungs choking. If his footsteps are behind me, I can’t hear them.

Nearing the house, I look back before jogging up the stairs to the door. If he’s out there, he’s hidden.

My mind is spinning with knowledge. It’s that moment when all the pattern matching begins to take shape, forming a picture—an outline riddled with darkness and the scent of blood. But how much is accurate, and how much is pure madness?

Just what the hell is wrong with the people here? Is it a form of collective psychological conditioning? Or is it environmental? Is it radiation poisoning? Is there a local superfund site that caused brain damage to the locals? What the fuck is it exactly? WHAT IS IT?

“Blood lust,” the wind hisses from the shadows as I close the door, locking it.

My back against the door, I want to collapse and let out all the rageful tears, but I’m too in shock, and time is of the essence. Lock everything. Secure the house!

Hurrying about, checking doors and windows on every floor, I ensure all ways in are locked tight. Zand knows what happened to my sister. That makes him an accessory to murder.

Should I call the police? What will I say? I have no proof. He-said-she-said.

I pass Mom in the hall.

“I’m almost finished,” she says, her embroidery in.

“Great,” I say, forcing a smile. She narrows her eyes at me.

“What happened with those men who were fighting?”

“Oh, just…a misunderstanding. They got over it.”

“Was the tall, dark-haired, handsome one Zand?”

“The taller one, yeah. The other two were just—”

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