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Kyrie heaved out a dramatic breath, then we exited the vehicle, and when I walked up to Billy, he slapped me on the back. “See, just a creepy house. Creepy to some, an opportunity for us degenerates,” he replied, turning his dark eyes on Kyrie. She stood close to me, so close I could feel her bare arm against mine.
I stepped away, a strange hum in my ears and an unmistakable dread crawling up my spine. I blinked and everything was dark, a red in the house seeping out.
I blinked again, and it was light.
I shook my head as I stepped closer. An obscured stone walkway led to a porch with no steps on the right side of the house. In the center of the home, five windows arched out, likely what was once a beautiful seating area in a front room. Second-story doors opened to nothing, where balconies must have been, now gone. The windows were black, mirroring the nothingness within. The house must have been white before—when it was still beautiful. The paint was washed away, showing the grey of the wood beneath, weather lashed and old. The main entrance was to the left of the clustered windows, flanked by stone columns and planters, where nothing grew.
I walked toward the house. “You’re right. That’s a creepy house,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“It’s not half bad on a summer night when you wanna forget the world,” Billy said, his voice faking bravado, laced with something darker.
I tried to imagine him getting wasted there, sinning. Doing all the things Kyrie’s dad said would damn you to hell.
In this town, in this world, there were sides. Lines drawn. The druggies and the pure. The trailer trash and the good ole townsfolk. But where I came from, it all blurred. The drugs, the sex, the promised ones. I couldn’t understand their cliques and their rivalries. I didn’t care about them. All I knew was my friend was scared, having bad dreams, and hearing things. And I wanted to make sense of something for her. If that meant blending what the town deemed as my world and hers, then that’s what I would do.
“So, what do you think? Are we gonna steal some keys? Fake some friendships? Figure this shit out, Davis?” Billy asked.
Kyrie glared at Billy. “Call meKyrie. I’m not one of your buddies.”
I shot Kyrie a look, and she looked chastised.
When I focused my attention on the Archer house again, I imagined how it would appear at night and closed my eyes briefly, allowing my imagination to take me there. I saw a crack of lightning and two black dogs on either side of the house. A ring of red light, not unlike what I’d imagine in the woods by the pond, glowing behind it. There was something strange about the house; it didn’t seem quiet and uninhabited. Billy said kids came here to drink and smoke, but a heavier presence lingered. I thought I smelled the Deacon, and I opened my eyes, looking around to ensure he wasn’t standing on the sidewalk watching us. But there was no one there: just the occasional car passing by or someone walking on the sidewalk. No one yelled for us to get off the lawn or told us it was private property. It was a forgotten house, a part of the scenery that likely held no importance to the inhabitants of Hart Hollow. If someone were passing through, they might want to take a photo of the old home, but it looked otherwise lost. I wanted to know who owned it. The desire for knowledge surged in me as my friends bickered around me.
I reached down and fingered the bracelet at my wrist, the one Kyrie had made me. I felt that strange animal humming in my chest, and I couldn’t help myself. I looked around to ensure no one had heard it, to ensure it was all in my head. But they were still carrying on, though Kyrie stood still, staring at the structure like a statue. She was lost somewhere, eyes on the roof. And I remembered what she told me, that she had heard something on her roof. The thing from my nightmares came to mind. The winged beast.
Before I could ask her if she was okay, a car came down the hill from the direction of the school.
It was sleek, purring, and Billy grinned widely when he saw it. “Look at that. Just fucking look at that,” he said.
Jessica brushed past me and stared at her brother, her hand on her hip. “Look at what?”
Billy looked at me, then at his sister, before pointing to the car as it parked. “Look at what? Atwhat? That’s alady, Jess. That’s a Pontiac Firebird and …” He squinted his eyes. “Please tell me it has a red velvet interior. Please. Hemming, go ask your girlfriend if she’ll take me for a ride.”
Ignoring Billy, I stepped closer to the road as the window rolled down.
I hadn’t seen Sorina outside of school in weeks. She was never in the cemetery. The lights were never on in her house. She’d vanished since we touched on the stage, since she kissed me in her home. Since she told me to leave.
Since she scared the fucking shit out of me.
And then there she was, parking across from us, opening her car door.
Despite the chill, she has dressed in ripped denim cut-off shorts, her fishnet stockings underneath, and her black combat boots. She had a ripped T-shirt with the wordsFleetwood Macon it. Her red hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She looked beautiful and clean, unlike the dark thing she often was at night. The kind of being who swam in dirty ponds, crawled from dark rooftops.
With a slam, she shut her car door and leaned on it, staring at the house as if we weren’t there.
I turned to my ragtag group of new … friends. I didn’t know what we were. “I’m gonna go talk to her. Kyrie, you can leave me here. She’ll either drive me home, or I’ll walk.”
My friend looked annoyed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
Billy winked at me, and Jessica glanced between Sorina’s figure and my face. “That witch is scary. Whatever.” She walked away, heading toward Billy’s car.
I couldn’t disagree. Waving bye to reality, I crossed the street. When I reached her, Sorina pulled out a joint, twisting it in her fingers. “Peace offering?”
I jogged the rest of the way. “Someone could see you, Jesus—” I didn’t finish. There was no such thing. I didn’t believe in fairytale men who absolved your sins.
But I did believe I needed an explanation from the girl standing before me.
