Lily Vandenberg huddles next to me. We hide together behind a tombstone in the Vandenberg graveyard while not more than fifty yards away, a rift glows in the tree line.
A way out.
I grab her hand and squeeze, like the gesture might infuse her with strength and speed. But she is weak. So very weak. Which is all the more reason we need to hurry.
Lily won’t survive in here much longer.
A second howl pierces the night—closer this time.
We have to run.
We have to go.
“Now!” I shout.
We leap to our feet.
Gritting my teeth, I sprint toward the rift—our freedom, our escape, a way out of this nightmare we’ve been trapped inside.
I keep going.
I don’t stop.
Until a scream turns my insides to liquid and a ferocious snarl lifts every hair on the back of my neck.
A giant, four-legged beast bares its blackened fangs and lowers its front end to the ground, its ember eyes fixed on Lily.
She backs away.
The beast lunges, tackling her to the ground.
I grab a spade lying nearby and swing it with all my might.
Iron cracks into skull.
There’s a piercing yelp as the hound flies into a tombstone.
I don’t wait for it to recover.
I scoop Lily into my arms and run.
The rift is gone.
I’m not sure it was ever there to begin with.
I sprint through the woods, commanding her to stay awake, to stay alive. I don’t stop until I reach the marble bench in the Water Garden where she used to sit and draw. I lay her upon it and try to staunch the flow of her blood.
But her lips are turning a purplish white.
“I’m so cold,” she rasps.
I know she is.
I can feel it like ice spreading through her veins. My own hands burn as I try to plug up her wounds. To make the bleeding stop.
But it won’t stop.
There’s so much blood.
