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“Are you an expert on parties?” His chatter was distracting me from how irritating it was to shop: there were screaming children running everywhere, the aisles were too crowded, and all the costumes were too small.
“Yeah, actually. I’ve been to hundreds of parties across nearly ten centuries. And I can guarantee you, all the best ones had a murder.”
“I think that’s just because you like murder.”
“Are all Halloween stores like this?” He dodged two children that sprinted past, nearly smacking into him. He shot a quick look back at them, and the child in the lead tripped, falling so abruptly that the kid chasing behind tripped over him too, and they fell into a pile. He smiled smugly as he looked back at me.
“Tripping children?” I said. “Really? Are you proud of yourself for that one?”
“Very. It was hilarious.”
I rolled my eyes and had to look away before he saw me laugh. Not that I could really hide it from him; he’d probably smell it or something, since he could smell everything else. “But yeah, welcome to 21st century capitalism, Halloween edition. All year, there’s no Halloween stores — then October hits, and suddenly every empty building has one.”
“So many foam skeletons,” he said, brushing past several that were dangling from a display. He picked up a French Maid costume, encased in a plastic bag. “These costumes look like lingerie.”
“Yeah. That’s kind of the point.”
He grinned. “You should buy this one.”
I scoffed. “Youshould. I’d look ridiculous.”
“Fuck, I’d look hot as hell in this,” he said. “And I’d still dick you down good. Demon maid at your service.” He thrust his hips, and the image of him doing that dressed as a maid almost broke me.
“God, stop. Please.” I had to turn away because I was trying too hard not to laugh. But I quickly added, “Buy it in your size, but you arenotwearing it to the party.”
The more nervous I was, the harder it was to sleep. I’d killed before; I knew what it felt like to take a human life. But killing Kent Hadleighmeant something. Facing him again, standing before him of my own free will, meant something.
My anxiety felt like an open door, a gap in my defenses through which any number of awful things could slip in. If I didn’t plan carefully enough, if I wasn’t cautious enough, or if I was too cautious entirely — this could all end in failure.
That open door of worry was an invitation. It was a beacon. I just didn’t realize it at first.
I was running through exercise drills near the dock. The sky was gray, but the rain was a mere mist, cooling my skin as I sweat. The breeze was cold, and the water lapping against the shore formed a meditational rhythm I synced my breathing to.
Breathe in — punch — breathe out — kick — breathe in —
“Juniper.”
“What?” I yelled back at the house without turning. One of Zane’s favorite pastimes was to tease me relentlessly any time I tried to work out, claiming he was just helping get my heartrate up.
But there was no response.
I paused, panting between my sets, and looked back at the house. No sign of Zane at all. I straightened up, slowing my breathing so I could better hear around me. The wind picked up, the lapping waves on the lake coming faster, seeping up the pebbly shore. I scanned the trees, but the only movement I could see was a small flock of birds fluttering between the branches and the ground.
There was nothing there, nothing at all. But a chill still ran up my back. It suddenly felt like it would be a lot safer inside.
I’d left my water bottle at the dock, so I jogged back for it. The water had come up enough to grab it; it was floating a couple yards offshore.
“Damn it.” I sighed heavily as I waded in. The water was cold, but it felt nice after working up a sweat. The pebbles were smooth beneath my feet as the water came up to my waist, and I snatched the bottle before it could bob further out.
I froze, the bottle gripped in my hand. There was something in the middle of the lake, poking up above the water.
A blood-red face. Perfectly round, wide, staring eyes.
It was looking at me. It was lookingright at me.
It slipped back below the surface with the barest ripple. The wind stilled. The waves calmed around me until the lake became eerily glass-like. I backed out of the water, keeping an eye on the depths around me, my eyes constantly flickering back to the spot where the head had disappeared.
The pebbles crunched under my feet as I reached the shore. It was colder now, and I shivered in my wet clothes. I knew better than to trust everything my eyes saw, even when I was awake. Nightmares didn’t restrict themselves to my sleeping hours.
