23
BONFIRE AT THE QUARRY
On clear nights, the quarry looks like a black mirror framed by jagged cliffs and tall pines. In October, fog hovers over the water like a ghostly veil, making tonight’s challenge all the creepier.
I stand with Twig, Naomi, and Harper near the bonfire with my hands tucked into the front pocket of my hoodie. Flames crackle and pop. Music pulses in the background, layered with laughter and the low buzz of multiple conversations unfolding at once. My attention keeps sliding to the parking lot in the distance.
Naomi nudges me with her shoulder, her sleek black hair glowing in the firelight. “Who do you keep looking for, Selah?”
I roll my eyes.
But inside, my stomach has tied into a knot. Jude has been distant ever since I showed him mydreams. He left my room abruptly, and for the past two days, he’s been unusually busy with family obligations.
“Are you ever going to tell us what’s going on between you two?” Harper asks. “Twig, do you know? I feel like you have to know.”
I dagger him with a look.
He gets the hint and pleads the fifth.
But even if he didn’t, what would he say? I don’t think he could explain what’s going on between Jude and me any better than I could, even if we have been brainstorming possibilities the same way we would for a podcast episode. Exhaust all logical explanations, then dive into the supernatural ones. But this time, we’re stumped. It’s one thing to sit in Maggie’s basement as third-party observers, commenting on a strange and uncanny mystery. It’s quite another to find myself embroiled in the center of one.
The only thing we’ve confirmed is what we’ve always suspected—Rafe is definitely up to something. What that something has to do with the gemstones he chucked into the woods or the ruby necklace he nearly tore off Isabel’s neck, we haven’t the faintest clue.
Before Naomi and Harper can press any further, Brady Keller stumbles into our conversation. He drapes one arm over my shoulders, his other over Naomi’s, the smell of beer clinging to his breath. “Whadaya say, ladies? Are you gonna make tonight legendary?”
“I’m good keeping tonight ordinary, thanks,” Naomi replies.
Brady turns to me, his eyes unfocused.
“Sorry, Keller,” I say. “I’m staying dry.”
He looks at Harper, who gives her head an adamant shake. He completely ignores Twig. I’m about to say something when Twig catches my eye and shakes his head, a nonverbaldrop it. Brady moves on to the group beside us and a burst of cheers erupts near the water’s edge. Someone’s about to take the plunge. The crowd shifts to get a better look, but I turn back toward the parking lot.
And there he is.
Emerging from the fog like a dream, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his leather jacket—halfway zipped, collar popped, breeze ruffling his hair.
Harper squeezes my arm.
I shake her off as he joins our half circle, firelight casting flickering shadows along his jawline. He greets Twig, Harper, and Naomi. Then me.
“You came,” I say.
“Someone said it would be fun,” he says back, his autumn eyes sparkling.
More cheers erupt. This time, beneath a copse of Hawthorn trees. Caleb Briggs has gotten down on one knee to ask his girlfriend, Brynn Alcott, to the Hunter’s Moon Masquerade Ball. She replies with a playfulmaybe, then releases a delighted shriek as Caleb throws her over his shoulder andmarches toward the water, like he’s going to toss her in.
Jude uses the moment to ask if I’d take a walk with him. We leave the warmth of the fire, away from the drunken laughter and the silly behavior, Naomi and Harper’s attention hot on my back.
We walk along the shoreline, fog drifting at our feet. Jude keeps his hands buried in his pockets. I do the same. But every now and then, our elbows brush, and each time, a current of heat zips up my arm.
“Sorry I’ve been MIA,” he finally says.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I feel like I do.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I just—I don’t know what to think about any of this, let alone what to say.”
Neither do I, honestly.
