Okay, all of my thoughts.
I couldn’t shake the dream. It was so real—too real. And tonight, I was going back to Norse woods to prove it.
Adora’s fingers dug into my hips, pulling me back to the moment, and she pinned me forward as she stayed behind, pressing her chest to my back.
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll choose you. All I’m asking is for you to keep all the flirting and closeness away from me when he does. I don’t want to see it.” Her words were like an iceberg. Hard and cold, yet slowly melting under the waters of her emotions. She embodied the same kind of heartbreak I’d seen mar many faces of the ghosts who would come to me.
“Adora, you have the wrong idea about me,” I assured her.
“No, sweetheart. You have the wrong idea about us.”
And with that, Adora disappeared behind the curtain, leaving me alone in the dressing room.
I waited until after Gramps fell asleep in his recliner with Stephen King’s Lisey’s Story resting over his lap. It was a quarter after midnight as I quietly locked the door behind me and walked to the driveway before rolling the scooter to the street. I didn’t want to wake him.
If my gut was correct, the dead birds would still be piled somewhere in those woods, proving whatever happened the other night wasn’t a dream, and I couldn’t let this go until I knew the truth.
The streets were busy, and all the shops were open. Lamp posts gleamed a dim yellow over the square. Children played in the grass and high-schoolers sprawled out in the gazebo, watching as I drove past on the scooter. Through the diamond-paned window of The Bean, the Sullivan sisters, Monday, and the guys from their coven were gathered around a corner table, drinking from their mugs and smiling and laughing and … belonging.
I parked behind the funeral home and entered the woods, desperate and on a mission to find answers. To prove I wasn’t crazy.
An eerie hush fell over the woods and shadows contorted sluggishly, compelled by the wind. Leaves and pine needles crackled under my boots with every step into the dark, the only light the constellations in the black sky. I hadn’t been walking long, but as I drew deeper between the trees, the lights from inside the houses lining the Norse Words faded.
The hoot from an owl ricocheted in the canopies and shuddered across my skin, but I kept walking. I could find my way back, I thought, underestimating the nighttime as it pressed on me from all sides. I breathed in the cool air more rapidly, quickening my steps.
An orange glimmer appeared off in the distance. As I drew nearer, the casual voices from a group of guys grew louder until they came into view. Four of them sat around a fire behind a cabin, and I sank against a tree, hoping none of them could see me.
“—and when you said you have a certain taste, I almost died, Jules.” One of laughed.
“Morgan’s alright,” another said. “If you’re into a hit of anthrax …”
“You could lay her across the table and snort the freakshow.”
Freakshow. And my heart caved inside my chest.
“Snort her? I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”
Laughter bounced into the night.
I didn’t want to hear any more, but I was stuck at a standstill. I took a careful step backward, and a twig snapped, causing a bird to fly from the branches, a stir within the woods. I held my breath.
The four Heathens jumped up from their chairs around the fire and peered into the woods—peered in my direction. I braced myself against the tree, making sure none of my limbs were sticking out.
“Who’s out there?” one of them called.
“You see anything, Jules?”
“I’ll go check it out.”
This was my shot. I could run now, and they couldn’t catch me. But I couldn’t move. I was frozen here behind this tree, willing my feet to do something, but nothing would come of it. I threw my head back against the bark and bit my lip, breathing slowly in and out of my nose. Footsteps followed the silence. I’d lost my chance because if I were to run now, they could tackle me to the ground.
Someone was nearing. My heart pounded, his every step foreboding over the damp earth. Then he walked past me, wearing black slacks and a black coat, black hair styled as if he’d woken up like that. It was Julian, and he stood there for a moment with his head fixed straight, his back to me. I watched how his shoulder blades moved inside his coat, the subtle tilt of his head, listening to the secrets sewn into the trees.
“What is it?” a voice called out from behind.
Julian turned, and his gaze slammed into mine.
For a moment, his empty eyes stared into my fearful one. Then his eyes filled with something I didn’t recognize. A mixture of something familiar and fearful. He pulled his pointer finger over his mask in a quiet gesture as he stepped closer and closer and closer until the tips of his boots touched the tips of my oxford shoes.
He lifted his head. “It’s nothing,” he called back to the others, then returned his eyes to mine and whispered, “You can’t be here.”
“Was last night real?” I begged quietly, needing to know. “Tell me it was real. Tell me I’m not crazy.”
Julian’s eyes squinted. “You’re crazy. There, I said it. Now leave.”
He took a step away, and it cut me open. My head slowly shook as it didn’t make sense. If he was right, and I was going crazy, he wouldn’t hide me like this. He wouldn’t have lied to his friends about me being here.
My hand darted out and latched on to his.
Julian froze under our joined hands.
Beats passed, and he hung his head.
“Please, Julian. Be real with me.” My thumb grazed over his skin. He clutched onto mine tighter, and the silence of the night shaped us into one for a few breaths before he whipped around and walked me back against the tree. He grabbed the back of my neck and tilted my head.
The lump in Julian’s throat bobbed, and his eyes flicked over my features as I was arrested in his hold.
“I’ll come to you, but you can’t tell anyone,” he whispered, and I nodded. His eyes looked past me at the others before hitting mine again, and then he let me go, disappearing and leaving me with shallow breaths and a pounding heart.
“Let’s head to Voodoos,” he called out to the others, giving me a way out of the woods.
The fire clicked off in an instant, erasing heat and light all at once. I waited long after their voices faded, and I was certain they were gone before darting back through the woods.
I couldn’t remember how long I’d run between trees, over grooved ruts of the ground, no distinct way out, every turn seeming the same. Was I running in circles? The woods seemed to morph around me, taunting me as my legs burned, but thoughts of Julian kept pushing me farther.
“I’ll come to you,” he’d said ...
My foot caught on a protruding root, and I was thrown face down against the hard earth, something crunching beneath me. Dried, crusted blood and velvety wings and bone fragments painted the forest floor. A scream caught in my throat as I shuffled back to my feet, swiping at my hands, my arms, my legs, my hair, trying to get the stench and remains of death off of me.
It had all been real. My gaze darted around the raven graveyard. The birds’ eyes had turned white like cataracts, and their bodies were shredded apart in pieces and scattered.