Page 43 of Bound By Fury

Sam tugs on my hand. “Welcome to the shit show,” they call over their shoulder above the scattered yelps and pounding feet against the brick pathway. I can’t catch my breath or quiet the buzzing in my head.

Slowly the members of the choir stop singing as they flee the quad in search of cover.

Whatever it is, it’s happening again. The flood of stinging static, a burning pain, a desperate, crazed need to release something, but not knowing what or why.

A piercing spark erupts where Sam’s palm meets mine.

“Ah!!!” they yelp, yanking their hand away, a mix of fear and pain in their eyes as they look at the space between us.

I want to throw up. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Sam quickly cuts me off. “It’s just static.”

They go to grab my hand again, but I snatch mine back on instinct.

Shrugging, they turn, and I follow closely behind, careful not to touch anyone. I slip on a pile of wet flyers and fall to my knees.

Sam doesn’t notice, and no one stops to help me up, too preoccupied with getting out of the rain. Absently I wonder where Lucas went, if he’s wherever Malachi is.

As I lift to my feet, something catches my eye.

Past the crowd and the arts building and tucked into the trees hemming either side of the eastern trailhead, a flash of white. It slithers between the towering trunks like a specter, conjuring visions of Gigi’s funeral. What are the odds? A phantom-like blur along the bank of the creek at Willow Estate and in the forest that borders the school?

Plus Dawson’s Mini-Mart, the cafeteria, and now this? The melody popping up in my dream—an impossible connection between a horrific scene and this school? The message from Gigi. The storms, the lights, the otherworldly power that flows through me, the confusion on Sam’s face at the shock of my touch…

Something impossible is happening to me. Something to do with that dream. Those witches. This school.

There it is again, moving through the trees.

Despite my better judgment and the panic clawing at my chest, despite the rumors and the legends, the dangers that lurk in the Appalachian Mountains, and everything I’ve ever been taught about these woods at night, I break away from the fleeing crowd.

The farther I get, the surer my steps become as I slink into the yawning mouth of a haunted wood.

SIXTEEN

I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M going but my legs pump anyway, carrying me over protruding roots and undergrowth. The encroaching moon casts long, angular shadows like crooked fingers that dance under the dissipating storm clouds. I turn on my phone’s flashlight as I stagger deeper into the forest. The rain has stopped, but the thicker the canopy gets, the harder it is to see. Beneath me, the floor is littered with a soft bed of pine needles and moss that squelches beneath my feet as I stumble, eyes stinging and blurred, peeled wide open in search of the impossible.

I don’t know what that thing was drifting through the woods, but I don’t find it. Instead, as I venture farther, a tugging sensation guides me toward a burbling stream. When I reach the water’s edge, I sink to the ground.

Everything from the last week and a half swirls around me. Every miserable, aching part of myself that misses Gigi. Every terrified part that doesn’t understand this strange, recalcitrant power. Every part that hates Malachi for what he did and every part that feels guilty for hating him even though his family is dead. For hating him so much more than I hate Lucas.

It’s been building and building, and now it has boiled over. I lower my head into my hands and cry.

I need answers, but I’m not sure where to find them. My mother wouldn’t be any help, that’s for sure. I just met Daisy and Sam, and I’m not about to ruin these fragile new friendships by freaking them out with my weirdo magic. My grandmother, the only person in the world who I know would believe me, is dead. And the dream and her message have only left me with more questions than I can answer.

I collect a handful of smooth stones in my palm and hurl them into the water, a frustrated growl erupting from my chest. As the surface ripples, I realize that I know exactly what to do.

There’s one final message from Gigi that I have yet to hear. And I’m not sure I want to. I’m not sure I can stomach it. After this there will be nothing new from her, no more guidance, no one to hold my hand through this, no one to confide in who will understand me as deeply as she did.

The dream was not enough. Any amount of time with her would never be enough. I didn’t realize how much of myself I crafted around knowing she would always be there. How am I supposed to figure any of this out without her? In a way, so much of life feels meaningless when she’s not here to experience it with me. Every choice I make feels arbitrary when she’s not here to validate it. I almost feel stupid for even thinking this letter might have the exact answers I’ve uprooted my whole life in search of, and yet here I am, still clinging on to this impossible hope.

Because after shocking Sam like that… I don’t think I have a choice. I’m clearly not in control of whatever this is.

Sucking in a shaking breath, I tilt my head back and notice a break in the canopy where the trees part for the stream. The stars around the perfectly round moon glimmer, a billion iridescent pinpricks of light, so much brighter here than in the city.

Gigi used to say the stars hold many answers. That they’re the spirits of our foremothers watching over us. She used to say that the stars were all we needed when looking for guidance, and I’ve tried to listen, I really have.

Open your mind to new possibilities, Cancer. There’s an entire world out there waiting for you to take action. Don’t shy away from new opportunities or friendships, connection is how you feed your inner self.