A wrought-iron fence guarded the tiny cemetery, corralled all the tombstones and withered flowers, kept them safe from the gnarled oaks that grew on the perimeter, twisted branches weaving in the October wind, casting shadows that traveled across crypt and tomb. Hunter left his hiding place, sauntered forward to the center of the old churchyard like a vengeful ghost. Flask raised above his head, he called out to his followers.
“Time for a contest,” he announced. The others gathered around him, though Jake and I stood at a distance. “Split up into teams, see how many kids you can get to join your group. Then we’ll all meet over at the old junkyard in an hour for a bonfire.”
Some of the younger kids cheered at this point. The older ones kept silent. They seemed to knew what was coming.
“The winner will be the one with the most followers. He’ll get to choose this year’s dare. Better get goin’!” His gaze met Jake’s. “And you know I plan to win this year, so be ready.”
The crowd broke up into clusters, all whispering and excited.
I didn’t want to leave. Not yet. I meandered through the shadow-cast landscape of weathered stone and tarnished angels, searching. Jake watched me silently for a few moments, then he pulled out a flashlight and handed it to me. Together we walked, side by side, fog curling between the gravestones as I swept the light across the names carved in marble. Finally, I paused to run my fingers along the top of one of the tombstones.
The name cut through black granite—Audrey Meissner—but it felt like it was cutting through my flesh.
“My mother’s grave,” I said, my voice soft.
“I didn’t know,” Jake said. “I’m sorry.”
I stared at the stone, my feet resting on the grave. This was as close as I had ever been to my mother. “I was just a baby when she died.”
He nodded. There were no words for this. Only feelings. Only the cold wind gnawing at me and the moon, that ghastly orb, making me crave things, making me want to turn and pull his dreams from him when no one else was around. Where was my human side? Was I only a beast with wings and claws or did I actually have a soul?
“Sometimes, when I come here, it feels like my mother’s here too,” I confessed. “Like she can hear me and see me. Like I’m the one who’s a ghost and we accidentally traded places. That’s weird, huh?”
Jake took my hand in his, his skin warm, refreshing.
“No,” he answered, a strange sound in his voice. “I used to come here all the time, after my grandma died.”
“You were close to her?”
He nodded, head lowered. Then he lifted his gaze until he was staring into my eyes. One hand rested on my shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone your secret, Elspeth. You’re safe with me.”
Then he leaned closer, his scent overwhelming, his thoughts like the wind through the leaves, a wild rushing, his skin like the embrace of the forest. His lips touched mine and I slid my arms around his waist, leaning in to the kiss, suddenly wanting more. I wanted to cast an enchantment, to lead him into sleep, to harvest his dreams. Wanted to walk into a dream with him, to see the hidden world on the other side of his eyelids. Wanted to know everything about him.
The kiss had only just begun and already I wanted another.
His arms were around me then, and the winter chill disappeared. In its place, fire crackled through my limbs, from my fingertips to my feet.
I could see it then, the world inside him. Tender and gentle as a spring morning, the shadows of night lingering at the edge of the wood, a handful of stars scattered across a pale sky. I never knew that humans could be filled with so much magic.
It was my first hunt and I had chosen my prey wisely.
We pulled away from each other with reluctance.
Then he took my hand in his.
“We should go,” he said, his voice husky. “Can’t let Hunter win the contest.”
Chapter 58
The Beating of Wings
Driscoll:
I crept down the stairs, suitcase in hand, down two landings until I finally reached the first floor. It felt like I was in another world, another time, as if this gigantic Victorian house with the towering turret was a great woolly mammoth, frozen in the sudden snowstorm. Electric lights gleamed overhead, as if only yesterday the stairway had been lit by flickering gas jets, pristine Persian rugs had covered the polished floors and intricate wallpaper had glittered with metallic inks.
Time passes. Some things change, some things die.
The Driscoll mansion creaked and moaned as I walked toward the foyer. Every movement caused a welcome response from this aged beauty, as if it didn’t want to see me go. My fingers trailed the polished wainscoting, moonlight flickered through a wall of stained glass, lace curtains drifted as I passed. If there were ghosts inside these walls, they would be glad to see me. They would nod as I moved through midnight gloom toward destiny.
They would be glad to see me free, at last.
The front door opened and I stood on the threshold.