Page 56 of Pareidolia

I make sure my jacket is zipped and my gloves are on before I head into town—the soft glow of my fingers and the way the tattoo on my chest squirms like it’s alive are going to make summertime a bitch if I want to go anywhere.

Nox is fucking up everything, and he can’t even tell me where he lives.

By the time I’m in town, I’ve half talked myself into staying at the fire tower again. I don’t want to be in his ridiculous murder cabin, even if it was probably the only sweet gesture he’s ever made in his entire existence.

The slow, deep breath I take isn’t to steady myself… it’s to test my chest, the way my body is quietly warning me if I try to run, there’ll be hell to pay.

I’m not trying to run. I’m trying to get something warm to eat that isn’t cooked in a fucking microwave or on a campfire.

There’s only one diner in town, and it’s small enough that the waitress tells me I can seat myself. I make my way to a table by the window so I have a view of the trees and drop onto the bench. The cool, plastic seat against my shoulders doesn’t settle the strange burning beneath my skin, but at least the view of the forest seems to placate it enough that I manage to ask for coffee without running outside like a maniac.

I give a pretty girl who I think I went to middle school with my order when she comes back with my drink, dropping my head into my hands as soon as she walks away.

“What are you doing, Aspen?” I murmur under my breath. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Everything I’ve ever wanted is out in those fucking trees, and I’m sitting in the middle of town having an existential crisis over burnt diner coffee because… what…

Because a giant moth monster makes me curious, and he’s a monster, so he doesn’t care about curiosity?

Or is it because I can feel the way his shadows are already so deep inside me that I know I’m never going to be able to leave?

I don’t know.

I don’t know anymore, and I know even less when I catch myself pressing my fingers against the bite mark on my neck. The sting of pain provides a momentary relief, a breath of clarity that I use to raise my head and stop muttering to myself like a crazy person.

At least I have the excuse that I’m an author if someone asks. We’re all a little weird.

A few minutes later, the waitress, whose name is Janine and who definitely was in class with me, comes back with a plate of steak and eggs. She smiles and leans against the table, looking me up and down with pretty blue eyes that are full of interest. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart… I forgot how Southern this little town really is.

“Of course, Janine.” I offer the most charming smile I can, and watch as a flush creeps up her cheeks before she’s flagged down by another table to take their order.

It’d serve Nox right if I stayed in town and took her home, fucked her until I felt something.

Something…

Something that wouldn’t even begin to touch the way it made me feel when he pinned me to a tree and tore me apart.

I’m not going to fuck Janine the waitress to get back at a monster who’d probably just as soon tear her apart and force-feed her to me in punishment. I’m not fool enough to think that getting back at Nox is a good idea.

I just want to eat—to take a second to breathe and gather myself… then I’ll figure out what I’m going to do. Maybe if I cut myself open, I can bleed his fucking shadows out, and I’ll be able to think.

I just need to be able to think.

I glance down at the food, and my stomach twists. It should be good. I’ve only been here for a few days, but it’s been a few weeks since I grabbed anything that wasn’t safe to store in my car. Chips and trail mix and jerky aren’t the same as a steak that’s actually cooked properly.

It bleeds red when I cut into it, the meat a dark crimson at the center—exactly like I ordered.

Exactly like the skin around that man’s bone when I pushed him from the tower…

Exactly like the bodies Nox left for me in the kitchen.

I swallow hard and stare at the meat as a painful cramp ripples from the center of my chest and spreads outward—a spike of hunger in places I’ve never been hungry before.

Not hungry for steak.

Not hungry for food.