The atmosphere in the car was tense. Elena kept her hands clasped together between her legs as the trees blurred past the passenger window. The radio cut in and out between bursts of static until she tired of the sound and turned the volume all the way down.
The car hit a pothole, and she bounced in her seat. She stared at the horizon and breathed through her mouth until her stomach settled. “Okay, I get it. You’re mad. Don’t take it out on my stomach.”
Sebastian’s hands clenched on the wheel, but he muttered an apology and slowed down.
After leaving the diner, he had taken her back to the house, where she’d begged the officers at the scene to let her access her car so she could grab her luggage. Although they had been initially cautious of letting her past the yellow crime scene tape, they had eventually relented.
Thank God for that.
She didn’t want to think about how meager her savings were without having to buy all new clothes and toiletries.
But things had only gotten worse when they were back in the car, and Sebastian had calmly listed all the reasons she should stay with him.
There’s still a killer out there. It’s safer to stay together. You’d save the cost of a motel.
As much as her heart ached to refuse him, that’s exactly what she did. He couldn’t understand the danger he was putting himself in by staying around her, and since she couldn’t explain, she was left with no other choice.
She turned her head and spotted a splotch of emerald ink on his neck. Her words dissolved; gaze locked on the spot. But no memory came, and the python slithered around Sebastian’s neck and disappeared under his shirt. Relieved, she returned her attention to their surroundings.
They passed a lit sign that switched between the words Motel and Hotel in red neon. Some of the letters were burned out, advertising the Hamilton Arms as a ‘lotel’ with ‘free wif.’
It was, unfortunately, the best she could afford.
Sebastian maneuvered around a large pothole in the parking lot to stop outside the glass-enclosed reception area. The windows were splattered with mud, and an ice machine whined away in the corner, one of its silver doors propped open.
“It’s even more run down than I remember,” Sebastian said. He flicked his gaze at her. “Are you seriously going to stay here?”
Instead of answering, Elena exited the car. Sebastian followed and stood behind her as she handed over three of the precious bills remaining in her wallet to a young man with a sleeping owl on his cheek.
She signed her name and accepted a tarnished copper key attached to a block of wood with the muttered “up the stairs to the right.”
Once they were outside, it started raining. A drizzle at first, but soon fat drops pounded the sidewalk and formed rivers that washed cigarette butts into the gutters.
She ascended the stairs, Sebastian in close pursuit. When they reached the door matching the number on the key, she spun around. “Enough! Why are you still here?”
He blinked.
She crossed her arms.
He stuck out his lower lip and widened his eyes like a kicked puppy. It was the same look he’d used to convince her to sneak out and go skinny dipping one cold summer night. He knew she couldn’t resist that look.
He was right.
“Fine. Okay!” She threw up her arms. “You can stay, but only for a few hours.”
His jaw relaxed, and he brushed her hand with his, taking her bag and hefting it on his shoulder. The brief contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm and caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach.
She fumbled the key into the lock and turned it until the latch clicked.
“Let me go first,” Sebastian said.
She shrugged and stepped away. He stepped inside, then held the door for her to pass. She flicked on the light, took a deep breath, then gagged. The room smelled musty and sour, like the inside of a fridge that hadn’t been cleaned for months. The thin brown carpet was worn through in places, and the dresser across from the twin bed was missing two drawers on the bottom.
The door slammed behind her, and then something hit it from the other side.
Thump Elena backed into the room, her mind filled with images of sharpened teeth and cackling laughter.
Thump The Harvester had found her, and once it possessed her body and consumed her soul, it would ravage Sebastian the way it had slaughtered Edward when it had possessed her mother.
The oppressive crush she’d been living with for over a decade returned with a vengeance. Would she ever be free, or would she continue running for the rest of her life?
Sebastian walked past her and opened the door a crack, just enough to see outside. He murmured something, then closed the door again.
“Who was it?” her was voice high and tight. She cleared her throat self-consciously.
“Housekeeping. They asked if we needed more towels.”
The tension rushed from her body like a pricked balloon. “Oh.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
Hands clasped like iron bands around her neck and pushed her face-first into the pool.
Chloe had suffered so much. What if it was the Harvester, after all? What if it had taken Chloe to get to her? Did that make her a murderer?
Maybe this is my fault, after all.
“You don’t look fine,” Sebastian said. He slid his arms down her back and tugged her closer. She let him, turning her head and resting it on his chest. He was so warm. She wished she could bury herself in the heat coming off his body. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, running her fingertips over the muscles of his back.
“Scratch,” he murmured.
She dug her nails in and drew them down, eliciting a long sigh.
“I always thought it was weird that you liked that,” she said, rubbing over the place she’d scratched. Then her hands drifted lower, grazing the waistband of his jeans.
Her stomach growled.
Sebastian burst into wheezing laughter. “W-what? How can you be hungry? We just ate!”
Elena’s cheeks warmed, and she turned away. “I wouldn’t call that food.”
The paltry breakfast had barely filled her up, and she had no intention of telling Sebastian how slim her grocery bill had been over the past month.
They made their way to the fast-food restaurant across the street, then carried the greasy paper bags back to the room. Elena refused to apologize for the mountain of food she’d ordered, despite the jokes he cracked at her expense.
“Should I go back and buy more?” he popped a fry into his mouth.
She scowled and wiped crumbs from her face with a sleeve.
He muttered an apology and slid his untouched hamburger forward.
She took it and peeled the burger from its foil wrapper. Her mouth watered at the savory smell of bacon and caramelized onions combined with the acidic tang of mustard.
“Your appetite hasn’t changed,” he said. “I remember we used to laugh at how you ate twice as much as anyone else. What was it Chloe called you?”
She grunted. “Sorry. Don’t remember.”
“Lucky for you, I do, Ella Leftovers.”
She groaned. “It wasn’t my fault. Remember what my mother put in my school lunches? What kind of woman sends her teenage daughter to school with fermented herring and cottage cheese?”
“It stunk up the whole cafeteria,” Sebastian said. Then he laughed so hard his shoulders shook. He waved a hand. “Sorry, I know. Not funny.”
She sniffed. “Well, it was a little funny.” She crumpled the burger’s foil wrapper and added it to the growing pile of garbage on the table. Then she looked out the window, where the sky was stained red and orange. How had the time passed so quickly?
“You should go,” she said, flicking a ball of foil off the table.
Sebastian took her hand. “What if I don’t want to?”
The droning sound of the ice maker faded into the background. He rubbed his thumb along her palm. Her eyes fluttered closed. His fingers touched her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.
“Lay with me.”
She staggered back. “What?
The grip on her fingers tightened. “Not like that. Like when we were kids, watching the clouds.”
It was a bad idea. A really bad idea. But some part of her yearned for comfort, for his touch. She’d denied herself for so long. What was one night, in the grand scheme of things? Just one night, after more than a decade of longing.
They lay on the bed together, Elena’s head on his shoulder. She listened to his steady heartbeat, breathed in the smell of his menthol aftershave. She threw an arm across his chest and squirmed closer. “Tell me about Chloe. About the woman she grew into.”
Sebastian sighed, and his breath tickled her forehead. “She wanted out of here. More than anything. She flitted from one thing to the next, never keeping with a passion long enough to make a living. A few years ago, she told me she’d become a painter. She closed herself up for weeks at a time, churning out dozens of paintings. I still have a few of them. She had genuine talent. But, like everything else, she tired of it and stopped.”
“She was a dreamer,” Elena said. “I miss her.”
Sebastian squeezed his arm around her waist. “She missed you, too. She talked about you all the time.”
She lifted her head. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He bumped the tip of his nose against hers. “But I missed you more.”
The next thing she knew, his lips were pressed against hers, and her insides were melting.
He tasted salty, of fries and grease, and his body was warm against her. She clung tighter, wishing he could envelop her completely and hide her away from the creatures hunting her. She met his mouth with her own, tangling her tongue with his. Heat curled through her belly, down to her toes.
“Touch me,” she said. Her breasts were swollen and heavy, and the slight friction of her shirt against her nipples was agonizing.
He cupped her breast, rubbing a thumb over her erect nipple.
The sound of a door slamming jerked her back into the present.
What am I doing?
Getting involved with him would invite heartbreak. She slid off him and busied herself with emptying her backpack onto the bed. Anything to occupy her hands.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said in a husky voice that made her insides squirm.
She muttered something unintelligible, unable to find the words to express how he made her feel. Long gone was the boy she’d shared clumsy kisses with. They’d both changed. And yet, the dull throbbing in her pelvis suggested the spark between them was alive and well.
Don’t get attached. Remember the plan. Once Chloe’s murder is solved, it’ll be time to get out of town.
She upended her bag onto the mattress and dug through her possessions, throwing clothing left and right.
Sebastian touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure.” She paused, then spotted it. An object, sitting at the edge of the pile, a black canvas sack no bigger than her palm. “Shit. Someone’s been through my stuff.”
“How do you know?”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She pointed to the sack with a shaking finger. “That’s not mine.”
Sebastian palmed the unknown item and slid the zipper open along the edge. A metallic smell filled the room, causing a shudder to rip through her.
She crowded closer. “Let me see.”
He lifted the sack out of her reach. “You don’t want to see this.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not a little girl, Bast.”
He sighed and handed it over.
She peered inside to see a pair of swimming goggles caked in blood. Written on the lenses in black ink were the words get out.
“W-what do you think it means?” she asked.
Was it Chloe’s killer telling her to leave town?
Sebastian snapped the container shut and let the goggles fall to the bed. “Pack your things. We’re leaving.”
“For once, I agree with you,” Elena said, already ramming her possessions back into her bag until the only thing left was the goggles. She grimaced, then picked them up and shoved them into a separate zippered compartment. “Where are we going?”
Sebastian slipped her bag out of her fingers, onto his shoulder, and held the door open.
“Where I should have taken you to begin with. Home.”