Awry

76

Tristan’s heart was racing. “I swear I just saw an Ashman over here.” He walked behind the dunk tank again and scanned the dark areas beyond.

Nate said, “You probably did, man. But he’s not here anymore.”

Palms sweaty, Tristan refused to give up. Something felt wrong. Something felt…like a trap. “He was here. I swear. He was looking right at me. Like he was…baiting me.” Tristan pulled an extra knife from his coat and handed it to Nate. “Just in case.”

“Dude.” Nate stared at the blade. “What is with you always being armed? It’s weird.”

“If by ‘weird’ you mean incredibly convenient, then yeah. It’s ‘weird’.” Tristan wiggled the knife. “Just shut up and take the weapon. And, if you have to use it, no battle cries.”

Nate’s mouth fell open as he took the knife. “I’ll have you know that battle cries were critical to the discipline and accuracy of ancient Japanese samurais.”

“I don’t care,” Tristan said. “I don’t want you making animal sounds if an Ashman appears, got it? You are not a samurai, Nate. You’re a medically-savvy immortal with Star Wars bed sheets.”

“My sheets have nothing to do—”

“Stop arguing and help me find the Ashman.” Tristan went back to searching the park.

Nate huffed a little and muttered, “I could be a samurai.”

Tristan wrinkled his brow. Something felt terribly wrong.

Tristan’s heart continued to race.

After searching The Millhouse and not finding Heather, Scarlet went back outside.

“Gabriel?” She looked up and down the busy street, but Gabriel was nowhere to be found. She stepped into the road to get a better look at her surroundings. Where could he have gone?

Scarlet glanced down the street again and her gut tightened.

Parked in front of the Avalon cemetery was Laura’s car. Scarlet’s palms began to sweat.

Laura. Raven.

She was raising the dead. She was making new Ashmen.

Fear and hatred heated Scarlet’s veins as she looked around for Tristan or Nate. But they were nowhere to be found either.

Scarlet searched for Gabriel again and her pulse quickened.

Gabriel was missing.

Heather was missing.

Tristan and Nate were missing.

Scarlet looked back at Laura’s car and determination came over her. She would confront Laura, she would play dumb and convince Laura to come back to the fair with her and, once Laura’s guard was completely down, Scarlet would lure her to the boys—wherever they were—and they could detain her.

Or kill her, depending on which boy got to Laura first.

Then Scarlet saw her.

Wearing a tight black dress and red high heels, Laura walked out of the cemetery and headed for her car. Her red hair glinted in the moonlight and her long legs looked flawless as they carried her through the night.

You better pray Tristan doesn’t find you first, Scarlet thought as she started walking toward her lying, deceitful witch of a guardian.

When she was close enough for Laura to hear her, Scarlet called out, “Hi Laura.” She tried to sound normal. Friendly.

Not murderous and betrayed.

Laura turned around and her eyes grew. “Scarlet. What are you doing here?”

They were only a block away from the carnival festivities, but the music and the twinkle lights seemed very distant.

Scarlet smiled. “I’m helping Heather at the fair.”

It was a lie and it rolled off Scarlet’s tongue like a ball of butter.

“Oh.” Laura gave a weak smile. “Good. Uh….” She looked back at the cemetery and then to Scarlet. “We should go home.”

Scarlet kept her smile in place. “Why?”

“Uh, because it’s getting late.” Laura swallowed and looked at the cemetery again. “And you haven’t been home much lately. So why don’t you just get in the car?” Laura opened the passenger door for Scarlet.

Like that was going to happen.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Scarlet said, keeping careful eyes on Laura. No way was Scarlet climbing into a vehicle with a crazy witch.

Laura glanced at the coffee shop behind Scarlet. “Please get in the car.”

Scarlet looked behind her at The Millhouse where Heather still had not exited and a sickening thought hit Scarlet.

“Have you seen Heather?” Scarlet tilted her head to the side and tried to sound curious. Not accusatory.

Laura glanced at the cemetery and Scarlet’s gut dropped.

“Is she…?” Scarlet swallowed, her heart beginning to pound. “Is Heather in the cemetery?” Scarlet started to walk toward the front gates. “Did you take Heather to the cemetery?”

Scarlet couldn’t breathe as her steps turned into a run.

“Scarlet, get in the car!” Laura demanded.

Scarlet whipped her head around, but kept running. “Where’s Heather?

Laura’s face was hard. “Get in the car, Scarlet. Now!”

Scarlet turned back to the cemetery, her heart pounding out of control. Was Heather dead? Had Laura fed her to an Ashman? Was she buried alive?

The last thought hit Scarlet like a ton of bricks and propelled her feet to move faster toward the graveyard gates.

Because graveyards weren’t creepy enough without giant, nine-foot-high, wrought-iron gates with spikes at the top.

The sickness in Scarlet’s stomach churned dreadfully as she flung back one of the gate doors and, with a loud screech, the gate gave way beneath her pull. Scarlet ran inside the dark cemetery, wildly searching the grounds for Heather and instinctively heading for the ancient graveyard in the back.

The moon was full, shining enough light down for Scarlet to make out the hundreds of gravestones lined up in the wet grass and the dozens of standing tombs that rose up in various places throughout the yard.

Giant trees swayed in the winter wind, throwing shadows across the grounds and making it look like the darkness was alive.

Graveyards were much more frightening at night than they were during the day.

An owl hooted.

A wolf howled.

A bat flapped across the night sky before her, wings silhouetted by the giant moon.

Are you kidding me?

It was like the graveyard knew Scarlet had entered and wanted to make it the creepiest experience ever.

“Heather!” Scarlet called, running madly down the paved walkway that ran through the cemetery. Her feet pounded against the ground, the sound echoing off the large standing tombs and bouncing back into her ears. “Heather!”

Scarlet raced toward the darkness where her best friend needed her, trying to ignore the sound of falling footsteps behind her.

“Scarlet!” came Laura’s voice. “Come back here!”

Like hell.

Scarlet moved forward, until she reached the old graveyard and pushed herself through the short gate. She wove in between the tombstones that stood at awkward angles and jutted out of broken earth and shifting soil.

“Scarlet, listen to me!” Laura’s voice was getting closer.

Yeah right.

You don’t get to play your ‘mom’ card anymore, psycho guardian.

Another bat flew past, almost brushing against Scarlet’s hair, and she flapped her hands in the air until the creature darted away from her.

Geez.

Laura’s voice was heavy and loud. “Scarlet, no!”

Scarlet looked back and found Laura sprinting toward her, her red hair flying behind her as she cut through the graveyard and made her way straight to Scarlet.

“Stay away from me!” Scarlet yelled, totally freaked out that her guardian was chasing her down in a cemetery. At night. While her best friend was probably lying in an upturned grave.

Scarlet began to panic. “Heather! Heather!”

A muffled sound from the side had Scarlet turning her head to the right. There, in the shadows, she saw Heather tied to a tree with a gag in her mouth.

Scarlet gasped as she ran to her friend. “Ohmygoodness, Heather!” Scarlet reached Heather and immediately began untying the knots around Heather’s hands.

Heather shook her head violently as she tried to speak, but the sound came out mumbled as her eyes bulged at Scarlet.

Scarlet reached for the gag to set Heather’s mouth free.

“Scarlet!” Laura’s voice was right behind her.

Instinctively, Scarlet spun around and shielded Heather’s body with her own. “What do you want?” Scarlet demanded from Laura, terrified Laura was planning to sacrifice Heather for some magic spell or something.

Panting, Laura’s eyes looked huge. “I want you to leave with me. Now! We need to go back home!”

“Are you crazy?” Scarlet couldn’t believe her ears. “You are a psychotic, killing, immortal bitch! I’m not going anywhere with you.”

A muffled yell came from behind Scarlet as Heather tried to say something, but Scarlet couldn’t afford to turn around and release Heather’s mouth. Laura could have a weapon on her.

“Scarlet, please!” Laura stepped forward and Scarlet threw her arms out, fully blocking Laura from Heather. “Trust me,” Laura pleaded.

“Never!” Scarlet screamed. “Take one step closer and I swear to God I will claw out your eyes!”

A whoosh.

A thud.

And Laura fell to the dying grass, blood trickling from her mouth.

Scarlet froze in place, not believing her eyes. Her voice came out stunned. “L-Laura?”

“The problem with the living,” said a wicked voice echoing about the old graveyard, “is that they tend to grow a conscience.”

Scarlet watched a shadowed figure walk toward her from behind one of the trees.

“Such a pity,” the voice continued, this time with a British accent. “She was so useful.” Out from the shadows stepped Clare, Heather’s boss, holding a crossbow. “But I can’t very well have her helping you now, can I?”

Scarlet’s throat went dry. She squared her jaw and stood up straight. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Raven.”

Clare smiled.

Scarlet was looking at her killer.