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Even Jesse seemed put-out with my never-ending dumb-assery. As I threw a halter on his head and tied him to the metal bars on his stall, he huffed and pinned his ears back.
“What is with you, man?” Sawyer asked and carried his saddle to the tack room.
I had no answer for him. I made quick work of untacking Jesse, wished Sawyer farewell, and headed home. The cluster that was my day was due to an overabundance of stress and not enough sleep.
It had to be, yet the shadows followed me home. I threw my hat on the dashboard and fired up my old, blue Chevy truck. Despite the exhaustion weighing down every muscle in my body, I couldn’t relax.
All along the winding road that led to my house, dark figures danced in my truck’s windows. They popped up left and right in the shapes of leering faces and violent actions.
One appeared directly in front of me. It was a dark sketch of a woman that I swerved to avoid and nearly careened off the road. Luckily, the shadows dissipated, though it did nothing to calm my thoroughly rattled nerves. I was not used to being so damn afraid.
I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and kept my eyes trained on the road. Country music blasted through the speakers, but I barely heard it past the unsteady thrumming of my heart and odd hum in my ears. I wanted to pull out my gun and start firing, but I wasn’t sure what I’d shoot at. I shut down the thought of calling the police.
Hi, Sheriff, I’d like to report some shadows that are following me? No, I didn’t catch their license plate. Sorry about that.
Finally, the gateway that led to my driveway appeared. Like always, the gate was wide open. This had to be some prank the guys were pulling on me. Sawyer had probably told Brody about what happened at the bonfire, and they wanted to punish me for being such a wuss. I prepared myself to deck them, then have a good laugh about it.
I passed the burned patch of grass where we’d had our bonfire. A strange tingle went down my spine at the memory, and my head throbbed. I focused instead on our quaint farmhouse. Its white paint needed a new coat, but its wraparound porch was still in shape, though it could hardly be seen in the darkness. I couldn’t even glimpse my mother’s old bench.
The driveway was darker than usual. The moon hung behind thick clouds, and the stars were tiny specks of dust in the sky, but that wasn’t the only cause of the darkness.
My porch light was off.
It was never off. Cady always left it on for me.
I skirted the truck to a stop. Whatever followed me, I didn’t want to face it in the house, where my little sister slept. I took a deep breath and prepared to step out of the truck. My hand lingered on my pistol, until I finally pulled it out of its holster.
Please be Brody and Sawyer, I thought. I kept the safety on in case they were the culprits, though my instincts screamed, danger. The shadows calmed, but I knew I wasn’t alone. Something still hummed in my ears.
With one last wish for some liquid courage, I hopped out of my truck. My boots hit the gravel driveway with a crunch, but the rest of the forest was quiet. Too quiet. No animals stirred, no water rushed, and even the low hum was silenced. One small gust of wind blew my way. It smelled of honeysuckle and rain and coppery blood. Unable to bear the silence, I called out.
“Who’s there?”
Three heartbeats passed.
A huge gust of wind came from the east and blew me into my truck. As I hit the metal frame, I grunted and bit my lower lip. Blood pooled in my mouth and my bones rattled from the force of the crash, but shock numbed the pain. I scrambled to right myself and searched frantically for the source of the wind or shove or whatever the hell just hit me.
“Man up!” I yelled and spat out blood. “Show yourself!”
A dark chuckle drew my eyes to the left.
“Do I look like a man?” a girl asked in a musical voice.
She stood perfectly still, dressed head to toe in black, with one manicured hand on her hip, and the other clutching her chin, as if in deep thought about the question she asked me. She couldn’t have been older than me, though the rage in her strange, copper eyes aged her. Her fiery hair was as wild as her expression. Something about her was familiar, though I didn’t know what. I’d certainly never seen a girl like her before.
A calico cat coiled around her legs and meowed. She peered down at him and scratched his head.
“Not yet, Arion,” she purred. “This one is mine.”
Surely this girl, with her small stature, pretty, freckled face, and house cat couldn’t be behind my torment. Her copper eyes met mine once more.
“Boo!” she whispered.
Another gust of wind assaulted me, though this time it went for my legs. I slammed to the ground on my face. My nose took the brunt of the fall, and blood spewed from it. I ignored the blood and the throbbing pain, so I could rise to my feet. With one hand, I still clutched my pistol, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn the safety off.
This is some twisted joke.
“Who are you?” I asked and winced. Already, my voice had grown nasally from the swelling in my nose. She scoffed at my question.
