Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Says the guy who’s been single how long?” Malcom asked.
I grunted out a laugh even though it wasn’t funny. I could still feel the blood on my hands, the despair in my soul, the darkness so deep that even a conversation with someone like Malcom didn’t help.
“You okay?” Malcom took a step forward.
“Yeah.” I backed up. “I’m just hungry. Thanks for this, Malcom. I appreciate it.”
I turned my back on him, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes just as he shouted out.
“Promise to come by more?”
I froze, guilt building in my chest. “Yeah, Malcom.” I didn’t turn around. “I promise.”
That is, if I don’t die soon.
Or kill someone.
Or end up having to leave for another few years, so I don’t raise suspicion.
“Cool!” Malcom shouted, then the door shut.
With a sigh, I got back into my car and drove straight home.
It was time to sleep.
It was time to dream.
Because time wasn’t on my side—and I needed all the time I could get to find the papers in my office.
To find the cure.
To kill the curse before I killed her.
Chapter Eight
Luna
The moon was bright, the stars even brighter as I walked down Main Street toward the tiny used bookstore.
I’d had so many good memories with my mom here, buying the local taffy, whale watching—and even renting bikes and riding along the coast.
But my favorite memory of all had been when she took me to the bookstore and let me pick out a book.
We hadn’t had a lot of money when I was growing up, but every year that we visited, she’d stop at the door, usher me in and say, “Pick the one that speaks to you.”
At the time, I thought she was kidding, and then one year, the whispers started—right along with the darkness—and the voices.
And for some reason, that bookstore had been the single place where the whispers seemed to come alive as if begging me to read their story or maybe to set the people inside the binding… free.
I passed the small grocery store and then the city hall. A sleek black Mercedes coup was parked in front, and a woman about my age with her brown hair pulled up into a bun was yelling into her phone and getting inside the car.
After another shriek into the phone, she peeled out of the parking lot and sped past me, only to park right at the bookstore as Sarah, the other part-timer, skipped toward the car.
“Wait!” I called out. “Sarah!”
I was still two blocks away.
The car peeled out again, and they were gone.
With a sigh, I looked around the deserted street. Did everyone close this early on a Monday?
Frowning, I was just about to walk back to the inn when something caught my eye in the woods behind the grocery store.
At first, it looked like a flash of light, but when I stared harder, it was almost like a flame. Panicking, I jogged toward it—the last thing that small town needed was a fire before their huge festival. But more than that, I was compelled to chase after it; my feet moved without me thinking, my brain telling me that we needed to make sure.
That there was something we needed to see.
I made it to the edge of the forest, out of breath. Where the hell had the flame gone? It had been bigger than both of my hands put together—or at least it had appeared to be.
The sweet smell of sugar was almost overpowering as I took another step into the forest.
Maybe the taffy factory was nearby?
A chill ran down my spine when I remembered that the taffy factory was on the other side of town, near Benjamin’s haunted mansion. I wrapped my arms around myself as my teeth started to chatter.
The flame was gone, but still, I didn’t turn back, and I had no explanation for why I felt the need to just stand there near a stupid tree and wait.
I blinked slowly.
Is that what I was doing?
Waiting for someone or something?
I gave my head a shake and started to turn when the tree to my right caught my eye.
It looked familiar. Then again, how did a tree look familiar? It wasn’t like I was a huge hiker when my mom had brought me here. If anything, she always told me to steer clear of the trees. She was always paranoid about wolves and bears. The memory made me hesitate before I shook my head.
But this was too close to town for that, right?
I reached out and pressed my palm against the cool bark and hissed out a curse when my hand came back smoking like I’d just casually put it through a fire. What the hell? I waited for the agony, the burning sensation, and nothing came but a slicing throb that was completely unlike any burn I’d had before.