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I inhale deeply, swallowing the delicious terror. With a satisfied smile, I exit the dream. I’ve seen all I need to.
LIBRA
It’s fully bright out when I awaken, throat dry and bladder bursting. Then my stomach growls, a massive noise, and I drag myself out of bed to deal with things. Once I pee, I lean on the kitchen counter and try to figure out how to make coffee. I have instant mix with me, so all I need is hot water, but that might be easier said than done. There’s no kettle, no microwave, and the burners don’t work—apparently the gas line is disconnected.
With a grumpy sigh, I give up and drink tap water instead. It’s not the best, but I’m so thirsty, I’d go drink lake water if I had to. As for breakfast, my options are equally limited. No hot water means no oatmeal, so dry cereal and a banana it is.
I sit in the living room and chew in thought, thinking about the strange dreams from the night before. Dreams are always weird, the way they morph from one setting to another, but these were especially odd. My dream man made a reappearance, only this time, my subconscious deemed him the King of Nightmares, which is amusing. And then everything shifted until I was kicking Evan’s ass in the boxing ring—if only that were real!—before some very wet and weird sex with the shapeshifter. Again, it was really great sex, and it’s super unfortunate that I never have it that good in the real world.
All the same, what the hell is going on with my brain these days? Why have I invented some monstrous dream boyfriend? Is my mind somehow trying to shield me from thoughts of Evan?
If so, I appreciate it, but the fact is, I have to face reality. I either need to find a way to deal with Evan before he kills me, which is basically impossible, or I need to get the fuck out of town permanently. I can’t just stay out here at Lake Eerie forever. I only came here so I would have some time and space to think of a plan.
Unfortunately, nothing is coming to mind.
I get up and root around in an old trunk in the corner. After plenty of rifling, I score two treasures: a deck of cards and an old road atlas. This means I can try to map a route out of town and southeast, taking the most out-of-the-way roads possible. And once I have that managed, I can play solitaire until my eyes cross.
With my phone still turned off to prevent tracking, it’s the best way I can think of to pass the time out here. Even if I do find a good route and come up with a plan to get money and get out of town, I still only want to travel at night, which means plenty of time to kill for now.
I flip through the maps and try to come up with some options, but my heart isn’t in it. Tossing it aside, I deal myself several losing hands of solitaire. When that gets boring, I dig through the trunk again. There are a handful of battered books at the bottom, mostly ancient, pulpy mysteries. But one catches my eye: a guide to the myths and legends of Haven’s Hollow. It’s the kind of thing Oaklyn would be into.
I thumb through it, reading about fairies and trolls, but there’s nothing about sirens. I suppose that makes sense. Sirens are a Greek thing, as far as I know. I mean, assuming they ever really existed at all.
Truthfully, deep down, I’ve always believed in the magical, the mystical, and the mythical. I just never thought any of it could apply to me. How could it, with the life I’ve had? If sirens really exist, and I’m descended from them, why didn’t I have any powers to make my childhood better? So far, the only advantage I can see is that people are attracted to my baked goods. Which is great and all, but it would have been nice to have something beyond the ability to attract terrible men.
I set the book aside and stand up, stretching and cracking my back. Who knew hanging out at the lake could be so boring? I stare out the window, watching the peaceful water and the dragonflies that dart along its surface.
It really is beautiful here.
I can’t check, but I imagine that by now Laia Tahiri has probably emailed me all the details about the house that’s for sale. My heart gives a little pang. I was genuinely interested in it; if it turned out to be in my budget, I would have made an offer. But now, I’m going to lose that opportunity along with everything else, including my business, my friends, and the town that’s come to feel like home.
I hate the idea of Evan taking everything away from meagain, but what choice do I have? I have nothing to show the police in order to get protection, and once Evan finds me, I’m a goner. Leaving is the only option. Right?
With a sigh, I pick up the road atlas again. I have to make a plan.
By the time night falls, I have a loose idea of where to go. But instead of getting on my bike, I crawl back under the icky quilt and let my eyes close.
I can’t leave. Not yet. There has to be another way.
Five
CALLISTER
The power is out, leaving the mansion with only flickering, uneven candlelight. I’ve recruited my most ghoulish and powerful demons, including Mayhem and Macabre, to join in this nightmare. They’ve been given free rein to cause as much terror as possible. Grim, Gruesome, and Grotesque are also here somewhere, waiting to deliver their special brand of horror.
“What are Evan’s biggest fears? Other than abandonment,” I ask Libra.At his core, he’s a small, insecure man, so I’m sure there are many things we can exploit.“I know he hates women, hates the idea of a woman being better than him. It threatens his masculinity. But what else? How do we make a haunted house even worse?”
“Change the setting,” she says suddenly. “Not a house. Make it a prison. But one that looks like an old sanitarium. He’s on parole right now, so I imagine going back to prison is a big fear. Especially an old scary one.”
I grin. “I like that. A series of execution rooms, perhaps?” I shift the scene, so the mansion becomes a horrible sanitarium, with rusty old instruments and chains lying in the dust. The whole place stinks of sweat, urine, and old blood. My various demons smell of decay and decomposition, and I’m getting whiffs of those as well. Libra must be too, because she wrinkles her nose.
We find Evan in the electric chair room, all hooked up and ready to be zapped. The windowless chamber is made of dull cinderblocks, with the chair in the middle of the room. The large, old-fashioned switch that powers the chair is fixed on one wall.
Evan is pleading with the executioner, who I’m delighted to see is played by Gruesome, one of my most fearsome demons. His face is disfigured, partially melted and covered with weeping sores. His arms are too long for his body, with giant, misshapen clawed hands. And his teeth are large and serrated, making his grin positively, well, gruesome. He’s cackling wildly, as Evan begs for his life.
“Let me go!” Evan shouts, but Gruesome just laughs some more.
“Where would you go, maggot? There’s nothing here but death. If this one doesn’t suit you, I’m sure another one will!”
