But I knew them. I felt them. Familiar buildings rose in the distance as the hard splatter of rain fell. My feet were tired and numb, moving on their own.
I stared at the smashed metal sign as heavy drops smacked my forehead…they were all I saw now…those three letters—Vet…
A savage bolt severed the dusk and was swallowed by the hungry, billowing clouds. I flinched with the crack of thunder and my knee buckled. Heavy rain splattered the asphalt as I hit the ground.
Tiny puddles formed around my fingers with the torrent. I thought of my home then, thought of all the things I missed. My bed, my room, the smell of my dad’s Marine uniform. The soft pillows where my mom had lain.
The toe of my boot dragged against the road as I planted my sole on the ground. My body wasn’t working…not like it should. Heat slipped through my fingers as I reached for my side.
Pain was more than a savage bite now, it was a hunger, a ravenous hunger that stole my mind…that made me shiver with fury. I needed…wanted.
The faint sound of hooves echoed deep within my mind, making me lift my head and stare through the sodden strands of my hair. Shadows moved as the night closed in, advancing like the beasts they were.
A soft nicker of a horse grew louder, and the glint of an emerald ring shone.
He was out here…the first rider, and he was waiting for me.
My body trembled as the physical met the deep-rooted rage. Only one would give in…one would win. My knees shook as I drove my heel against the pitted surface and rose to my feet.
Spirit was calling, urging me forward.
That green glint shone brighter, like a flashlight for my soul.
Hate burned all the way down as I drove my foot forward, and followed with the other. The thunder raged, but I couldn’t hear it, all I could hear was the heavy thud of my heart as I drew closer.
The green glint flickered once and then died away. But it didn’t matter as I dropped my gaze to the ruptured sign. I was here, right where Kenya needed me to be.
I gripped the thick metal poles as I rounded the side of the building and speared into the dark, and, all of a sudden, I was back there, watching her from around the corner as she knelt at the hole in the side of the wall.
I dropped to my knees. My fingers thick, numb, throbbing with a beat of their own…shock. Dad’s voice whispered. You’re going into shock, kiddo.
Cool slick trails mixed with warm tears as I shoved the sheeting to the side. The hollow was right in front of me. Kenya knew what she’d hidden. She knew the truth.
I speared fumbling fingers into the hole and skimmed the slick surface. Something moved, small, round, skidding across the cover of a notebook. I opened my hand, grasped them both, and yanked them free.
The light was fading fast, leaving me to stare into the gloom. But I didn’t need the sunlight to feel the cardboard cover buckling under my fingers, or feel the weight of gold in my palm. I opened the notebook and stared at the sheer white.
Dark scribble cut across the pages, some in lines. I skimmed my fingers across the page, finding the indents where the pen had been gouged into the paper.
There was something here, something she’d kept hidden. Loose sheets of paper fluttered against my fingers. Was this what she stole last night in the lab, was this the real reason she brought us to the Lost Boys?
Questions filled me as I closed the notebook and hugged it against my chest. The metal in my palm warmed. I unfurled my fingers to stare at the dull shine.
My heart leaped…thundering as the last of the sunlight slipped from reach, leaving me stranded in the dark and the cold.
Warmth slipped from my body, warmth and hope. The metal warmed…I knew it’s color now—knew the shine.
A shudder raced up my back as I closed my eyes. That last moment returned, right before the sun slipped away, as I saw what I held in my hand…
This wasn’t just an object. It was a ring…
One I’d seen before…in my nightmares.
My fingers skimmed the thick gold band and then glanced off perfect gold claws before stilling at the biggest emerald I’d ever seen.
13
A ring…he gave me a ring.
Revulsion burned like acid as I opened my hand. The ring slipped, the ting of the gold rang as it clattered to the ground.
I wrenched my hand away, fingers fisted against my chest.
His ring…Jesus. It was his ring.
My stomach tightened, squeezing fear into my throat. I scrambled forward, dropping the notebook to the ground, and retched.
Acid spilled, burning as I gasped and choked. I dug my fingers into the concrete and dirt and held on. But my mind was frozen on that dull green glow.
He was taunting me, laughing at me…using me. Making me weak, making me vulnerable…leading me into temptation.
I closed my eyes as thunder was unleashed. Rain followed, the downpour rattling the steel sheeting above. Rivulets cut through the debris under my feet. I grabbed the notebook from the ground and stared into the darkness.
What if it was a beacon? What if it was dangerous…left for someone like me.
I swallowed hard and skimmed my fingers across the muddy ground, finding the cold metal and then smooth stone. Just do it. Grab the damn thing. I snatched the ring from the ground and shoved it into my pocket. I didn’t want to think about it.
Didn’t want to touch it more than I had to. But I couldn’t leave it behind. The rivulet of water carved a path around my feet as I gripped the wall and slowly climbed to my feet.
A dull cold ache filled me…it was a dangerous ache. More than shock, more than pain. Darkness waited through the cracked-open door beside me. But there was no choice. I’d never survive, not out here. My feet barely moved, scraping more than lifting as I stumbled through the door.
Lightning cracked along the sky, filling the room long enough for me to see where I was. The place was filled with overturned chairs…a reception area. I focused on the desk. Paper. If I found matches I could burn it long enough to find something better. I forced my feet forward, rounding the end of the desk as the neon white bolt died away.
“Please,” the word tore free as I skimmed my fingers along the desk. Those who broke in wouldn’t be looking for matches, or lighters. They’d be focused on one thing—drugs. I skimmed a phone, the handset still in the cradle, and dropped lower.
The handle was still intact, drawers still closed. Hope filled me with purpose as I gripped the handle and yanked. Please be here, please find something.
The darkness tilted, and then rushed as my elbow buckled. I shoved out my hand, hitting the drawer. Pens and things chattered around inside. But I was searching for that one sound, that rattle of matchsticks in a box.
I shoved my hand inside, skimming the edges before I worked my way to the center. There was no tiny box, no rattle. No nothing.