Page 148 of Trick or Stalk

The friend she talks to on the phone?

The police?

The answer shouldn’t matter, but it does.

Because I want it to be me.

I want my name to be the one that enters her head when she’s scared.

For my voice to be the one she wants to hear.

For my arms to be the place she seeks comfort.

The irony almost makes me laugh.

I’m standing in the woods wearing the mask that terrified her, wondering whether she wishes Hades were there to protect her.

From me.

“That’s fucked up.”

Even for me.

I shove the mask beneath my jacket and finally turn toward the trail.

I take several steps, then stop and look back.

The curtains remain closed.

I smile.

Sleep well, Presley.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Whether you see me or not.

Wilder is asleep when I get back.

For once, I’m grateful.

I don’t feel like answering questions.

I toss the mask onto the table. It lands face-up. Empty black eyes stare at the ceiling.

My gaze moves to the romance novel sitting nearby.

Presley recommended a book about a woman fascinated by the man stalking her.

Tonight, I gave Presley her own masked man.

She’s afraid of him. I know that much.

What I don’t know is whether fear is all she feels.

Not yet.

I grab the book and head toward my room.