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Reaching up, I feel the wetness on my cheeks, but it’s not snow… The doc was right. It’s tears pouring down my face as the scene changes, and the white sheets are covered in blood, not roses. The man falls to his knees at the end of the bed and raises his head in a silent scream. They lift a small, lifeless baby from the bed and wrap it in white fur before walking toward me, where I stand in shock. The woman in the bed reaches out—I think she’s reaching for me, but it’s the bundled infant she’s beckoning. The nursemaid turns, and another woman nods. The baby is placed on the mother’s heaving chest. Her pale lips kiss the head of dark curls peeking from the snowy fur before the child is ripped away from the mother once more.

“This feels private—I shouldn’t be here.”

At that exact moment, the woman looks over, and her eyes lock on mine. She sees me!

“She—she sees me. I’m here… but I’m not. What’s happening?” I listen for Doc’s voice, but I hear another saying my name.

“Adelaide,” she whispers, lifting her hand toward the window in warning. I’m not sure why, but I follow my gut… and her silent plea and look over to the open window, where a raven is perched, watching the tragic scene unfold. When I approach to close the glass, the dark bird’s caw rings out in the silence, an ominous warning, before it flies away. I shut the window and struggle to latch the lock against the cruel wind.

My gaze returns to the woman, but now the room is empty. She’s gone. The blood is gone. Everyone is gone.

“I’m all alone.”

An unexplainable heaviness opens up in my chest as I walk slowly toward the empty bed.

“You’re never alone.” Another voice cuts through the blanket of silence. I turn to the open door just in time to see the hooded shadow reaching for me before the door slams shut with a thunder-like echo that shakes me to my core. “Adelaide!” I run toward the familiar sound.

“Let me out!” I pound once more on the heavy wooden door. But this time, instead of being locked out, I’m locked inside. “Why are you doing this?” I yell.

“He came for me.” I don’t realize what I’m saying until the dark secret spills from me in angst.

The pain in my chest is nearly unbearable as my anguish continues. And I realize the broken sound is coming from me.

I wake up, gasping for air.

“Very good, Adelaide, very good.” Docs’ soothing voice breaks through. “You rest now.”

Still groggy from the dreamlike state, I snuggle under the worn throw blanket he places over me, exhausted from the breakthrough, confused about what I just witnessed… experienced. Too tired to fret about my confession, I let my heavy lids fall closed and give into my exhaustion, praying for dreamless sleep. As I drift off, I hear his hushed whisper: “She remembers.”

Chapter 2

Adelaide

Doc’s words echo in my mind as I walk across the empty campus to my room in stunned silence. Remembers what? And who was he whispering to? Doc can’t possibly know who he is. That has to be a coincidence. I’ve never, at least consciously, talked about the hunter to anyone except my best friend. And even then, it was vague.

I’m thankful for the cold air that helps me shake the lingering grogginess. I slept longer than planned, waking up to a dark office and a note apologizing that he had to leave to take care of something, asking that I lock up for him.

Thankfully, my nap was mostly uneventful, except for a few foggy fragments that played on repeat—the darkness, the blinding snow, and back to black. It’s as if someone was flipping a switch off and on in my dreams. Now that I’m awake, the bizarre turn of events claws at the edges of my subconscious. What did I remember? And doesn’t that mean that what I was seeing… what I was living was, in fact, a memory?

Is he real? Is any of this?

I’m not sure which is scarier: not remembering… or remembering something better left forgotten.

An icy chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the winter wind picking up and everything to do with an eerie feeling that surrounds me as I near my building. A feeling that I’m being watched. This time, while I’m awake. I climb the brick steps, quickening my pace, and by the time I reach the door, my heart is racing.

Struggling with the handle, my glove-covered fingers slip-slide with the brass latch. “Come on.” I mentally scold myself; this isn’t the dark birch-filled woods. I’m on campus. I’ve walked this path alone at night more times than I can count. But that was before—before I realized that nothing about my life is as it seems and the answers that I need are either locked up in the office of the stranger that raised me or worse… my mind.

Relief floods my senses as the latch finally works and I step into the building and slam the door, sagging against the wood with relief. The familiar scent of worn pages and aged leather greets me while my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. This relic of a building houses the ancient library, now closed to the regular student population of Rosewood Academy, a prestigious division of the university founded by Doc with a handful of colleagues, including his own brothers—my adoptive uncles.

After a newer wing was constructed several years ago, this side of campus was abandoned in favor of the shiny, newer side. The fancy franchise coffee shop didn’t hurt either, and honestly, it’s the only reason I venture to the other side. But this little slice of dusty heaven is home to books and artifacts, both timeless and forgotten, as well as a few attic apartments, including one I share with my best friend, Beatrix.

Walking through the main lobby toward the creaky staircase that leads to my room, I hear something behind me. Crouching down between the stacks, I grab the biggest book I can find, poised and ready to attack, when a shadow falls over me from behind.

“Who are we hiding from?” a familiar voice whispers dramatically, hot breath tickling the goose bumps on my neck.

The motion of swinging a book while whirling at the same time knocks me flat on my back. “Geez! Bea, you scared the crap out of me!”

“What’s with you?” Beatrix’s amused face comes into focus as she steps over me and grabs the heavy book from my grasp. “War and Peace? Really? Couldn’t it have least been Jane Austen you took me out with?” she jokes to lighten the mood, but I don’t miss the worried look that flits across her soft features.