When Elena awoke the next morning, it took a moment to remember she was in Sebastian’s guest bedroom. Then the events of the previous day flooded back, and her throat tightened.
Although her dream had started off pleasant—featuring a mostly naked Sebastian and an array of sliced fruits—it had quickly morphed into an endless repeat of Chloe’s last memory as if to cement her resolve to find the killer.
She peeked beneath the blankets and confirmed Chloe was still with her, although the shade was coiled above her belly button. She tried again to reach for her friends’ memories in her mind. It would’ve been a lot easier if she could just ask Chloe who had killed her. But there was nothing left of her friend but the chubby-bodied boa, an echo of who Chloe had once been.
Elena pushed the forest-green blanket off her legs and smoothed her palm over the sheet beneath her, starched and crisp. She breathed in and smiled at the gentle scent of lavender with a hint of coffee. A distinct improvement over her apartment and the dingy motel room she’d almost slept in.
Her smile fell. She didn’t belong in Stillwood. Eventually, the Harvester would catch up with her. By staying, she put Sebastian in danger. Still, her heart ached at the thought of leaving. The spark was still there. It thrummed in her blood when he got too close, and she tasted it on his lips when they kissed. But when the time came, she would leave, as her mother had left. There was no point in thinking about what couldn’t be.
She rolled out of bed.
To her left, the door opened to a long hallway. To her right, a sturdy oak chest stood in stark contrast to the white walls. She opened the chest and removed the change of clothes she’d shoved in the previous night, a maroon V-neck that fit snug against her midriff, dark blue jeans, and a sweater.
Then her bladder reminded her she had slept late. She returned to the bathroom, then flicked the empty roll of toilet paper. In pursuit of another bathroom, she followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen, where Sebastian was rummaging through the fridge. “Morning,” she called and received a muffled greeting in reply. “Where’s your bathroom?”
He frowned. “There’s one attached to the spare bedroom?”
“No toilet paper.”
Sebastian winced and pointed to the left. “Down the hall. First door on your left. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve had a guest.”
Elena followed the hall and found a small bathroom. As she entered, a prickling swept up her legs, followed by the sound of distant giggling. Then she was ousted from her body with a feeling like jumping off a swing at its highest arc, except instead of falling onto gravel on her knees, she floated up and away.
Get out of my body!
Elena mentally pushed against the force that had displaced her. It didn’t help. The shade—Where had she picked it up?—was too strong. She collapsed beneath the weight of its will.
She pushed through the bustling crowds of afternoon commuters on Main Street, her heart pounding in her chest.
The man was following her.
Even though she hadn’t seen him, his gaze was like a brand on her skin. Every time she turned a corner, she expected him to be there, ready to thrust a knife between her ribs.
Why hadn’t he killed her yet?
The scene faded, leaving Elena to watch the shade lean over the vanity. Her body breathed out, fogging the mirror. A shaking finger touched the glass and, in halting movements, spelled out the word Help.
Help who? Who are you? What do you want?
She reached for the shade’s presence again, but it shied away, and as the marks faded, so did the pressure against Elena’s mind. She was sucked back into her body so abruptly that she didn’t orient properly like she’d shoved both feet into the same pant leg and gotten stuck. When the sensation passed, she carefully searched her skin, but the only shade she carried was Chloe’s boa, sitting sedately on her stomach.
“Was that you?”
The boa stuck out its forked tongue.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Whatever shade had taken her over was long gone, hopefully forever.
She resisted the urge to scream or cry. Maybe both. Instead, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number with shaking fingers.
The phone clicked, and a voice answered. “Hello?”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Hey, Aunt Martha, it’s me.”
“Hello, dear.” A brief pause. “Are you okay?”
Elena stared at her reflection in the mirror, remembering the word the shade had written. “Yes. No. I’m not sure. I just had a strange encounter.”
Her aunt’s voice hardened. “What kind of encounter?”
“I was possessed, out of nowhere, but then the shade wrote the word Help on the mirror, then released control. I think it was trying to send me a message.”
Her aunt sighed. “How often are you being possessed?”
“This was the first time in weeks,” Elena said, crushing a twinge of guilt at the lie. “Why? Why does that matter?”
Her aunt hummed. “Mr. Castillo didn’t see you like that, did he?”
“I—what? No. Of course not.”
It was difficult enough explaining her odd behavior to strangers. She couldn’t lie to Sebastian. He’d see through her like a pane of glass.
“Wait,” Elena said, rolling back the tape of their conversation in her head. “How do you know where I am?”
“I have my ways.”
“You know what, never mind. I’ll figure this out on my own.”
She hung up, put her phone away, then traced the word on the mirror.
Who are you? What do you want from me?
She looked at the mirror for another few seconds, then decided the best thing to do was put the entire ordeal out of her mind. She had enough to deal with without worrying about the problems of shades.
She relieved her physical needs, then indulged her curiosity and checked the rest of the doors in the hall. One was a linen closet with blankets, sheets, towels—she took two of each—and an unopened package of toilet paper. She tore it open and took three. After depositing her bounty back in her room, her stomach urged her back to the kitchen.
Sebastian stood in the middle of the room, his mouth open, his eyes cloudy black.
She froze, expecting to hear a grating voice. But then he threw a piece of cheese in the air and caught it in his mouth.
“Hey, look at that, still got it,” he said. Then he blinked. “What’s wrong?”
She shook off the chains of fear. “Nothing. What’s for breakfast?”
He chuckled. “There’s not much but help yourself.”
She grabbed a piece of pizza bread and a container of sliced white cheese from the fridge. She took an experimental bite of cheese and hummed in pleasure. It was cheddar, expensive, with the tang of age.
Sebastian sat at the table, then opened a thin laptop. “Other than the toilet paper, is everything okay with the room?”
“It’s perfect,” she said. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”
He returned to his typing. “There was no way I was going to let you stay at the Hamilton. It was grungy fifteen years ago. Now it’s a total dive.”
Elena took the chair opposite Sebastian, then fiddled with her phone.
I guess we aren’t talking about last night.
That was fine with her. No matter how her heart ached, it was a bad idea to get attached. Whenever she got complacent, all she had to do was summon the image of her mother leaning over Edward, a knife clutched in her hands, possessed by a psychotic shade. Her mother, the strongest woman she’d ever met.
I’ll never let that happen to me.
For a while, they kept a pact of silence. He typed on his keyboard, muttering beneath his breath, and she scrolled through various social media feeds on her phone. It was a pleasant change, a normal morning. She imagined what it would be like to live like everyone else. Having breakfast with Sebastian. Discussing their plans for the day. Laughing about not wanting to go back to work. Wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him silly.
Then her phone rang, disrupting her fantasy.
Sebastian looked up from his typing and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s my lawyer,” she said. She was surprised he had taken so long to call her but better late than never. She held the phone to her ear.
“Hey.”
“Elena? Are you okay?” David asked. “I got a call earlier saying you were in the police station, asking for me.”
She flushed. “Sorry about that. There was an unexpected incident.” She cleared her throat. “I came back to check out the house, but when I arrived, there was a body floating in the pool.”
“A what?” David groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t talk to the cops.”
“We-ell,” She hadn’t said much, but certainly more than she should’ve.
Another groan. “Okay. Don’t say another word until I arrive. I’ll be back in two days, three at the most.”
Two days?
“Where are you now?”
It was unlike David to leave his cushy office in downtown Minneapolis. The old man was stubbornly proud of his work ethic, and she’d never known him to take a vacation.
“Wisconsin,” David said. “It’s a long story. I’ve got to run, remember—”
“Don’t talk to the cops,” she repeated. “I get it. I’ll see you in a few days. Bye.”
David said goodbye, then the line disconnected. Elena lowered it and was about to put it back into her pocket when it started vibrating again. She rolled her eyes and answered.
“What now, David?”
“She—You—” Between the words were bursts of static, and the voice was certainly not David’s. She looked at her phone screen but didn’t recognize the number.
Sebastian closed the lid of his laptop. “Put it on speakerphone.”
She did and then winced at the static.
“Get out,” a distorted voice said. “Get out!”
Her legs trembled, and a wave of cold washed over her.
Sebastian pushed away from the table and walked around to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. She looked up into his concerned expression, then leaned over and spoke into the phone as if her insides didn’t feel like jelly. “Who is this?”
“You don’t belong here,” the voice said.
A strangled whimper escaped her throat. Sebastian squeezed her shoulders, and Elena mustered up her courage. When she spoke again, her voice no longer held a tremor. “That’s not funny.”
A few seconds of silence, then the voice returned, harsher this time. “Leave before you get someone else killed.”
Click.
Elena put her phone on the table, face up. “They hung up. Do you think that was…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Saying it out loud opened possibilities she didn’t want to acknowledge.
The killer knows who you are.
He wants you to leave.
He’ll come after you next.
“What am I going to do?” Elena moaned.
Sebastian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rested his cheek on her head.
“We’ll figure it out.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Then he let go and found his coat and keys. “Come on, there’s someone you need to meet.”