“It collapsed when we approached it.”
“It collapsed?”
“Like a black hole,” I say, finding my voice. “What about Lainey—did you get any more information at the hospital?”
“Actually, I did.” Twig sets his knobby elbows on the table and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I overheard Griffin talking to Kate while we were in the waiting room. Lainey told him she left townwith Rafe.”
Jude’s thumb goes still.
A drop of marinara falls from my roll and plops onto the table.
The three of us look at each other meaningfully.
Then I tell Twig what I saw in the hospital mirror.
His eyes go as round as flying saucers. But before I can finish the story, the waiter returns with my root beer—one eye on us, one eye on the football game, joining several patrons who let out rowdy cheers as the West Virginia team runs the ball into the end zone.
As soon as he leaves, I tell Twig everything—from the freaky sighting of Rafe to the jarring vision I had the first time I touched the seed. When I finish, I sit there finger-tapping my glass of root beer. “How does someone combust into flame, then show up alive a week later?”
“This other dimension must not adhere to the laws of physics,” Twig says.
“So whatdoesit adhere to?” I press. “What even is it, exactly?”
“A breeding ground for demonic squid,” Twig mutters.
Jude leans back in the booth. “And apparently, furry creatures that cough up glowing seeds.”
I offer him the basket.
I really think a pepperoni roll might help him absorb some of this insanity, but he just gives his head a curt shake.
Twig helps himself instead. “It could be the Nachtdier’s home away from home. Or the place the Woman of the Woods lives when the moon isn’t full.”
“Might as well throw the Hollow Walker in there, too,” I add.
Jude narrows his eyes. “The Hollow Walker?”
“Foggy Hollow’s very own boogeyman.”
Twig wipes his hands on a napkin. “Season one, episode seven.”
“Right,” Jude says. “I vaguely remember that one.”
My cheeks grow warm.
I’m still not used to the fact that Jude Vandenberg took the time to listen to every one of our episodes onAccounts of the Uncanny, twenty-four in all, two of which included his family’s infamous disappearance thirty years ago.
“You don’t believe in him,” Jude says—not looking at me, but Twig.
I take a drink of my root beer. “He thinks there’s a real lack of evidence.”
Jude quirks an eyebrow. “But not so with the Nachtdier?”
“There’s a whole history of evidence when itcomes to the Nachtdier,” Twig says, sounding slightly affronted. “Numerous sightings by actual people who have gone on record. The Hollow Walker, on the other hand, is folklore. Settlers brought superstitions with them from the Low Country, married it with indigenous belief about a consuming spirit, and created a monster to warn people against greed and isolation during times of scarcity. It’s basically an Appalachian knock off of the Wendigo.”
“Twig thinks the Hollow Walker is a cautionary tale, but you can decide for yourself at Night of the Howl.” I pick up the last pepperoni roll. “If there evenisa Night of the Howl.”
“What is Night of the Howl?” Jude asks.
