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I smile. Oaklyn is a gem. Friendly, compassionate, a great baker in her own right. And the most easygoing person I’ve ever met. Nothing ruffles her feathers.
“Nope, I have things under control. As long as you can handle the bakery, everything will be all good.”
“You got it. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” she says.
This is why Oaklyn is my best friend. She doesn’t ask a ton of questions and she’s always willing to help. I’m confident that Queen of Tarts is in good hands while I deal with the mess my life has become.
Now that that’s handled, I have to figure out how to get to the lake. Normally, I’d just take my bike, but what if Evan knows where I live? What if he’s watching me right now? Do I take the chance? I can’t have him following me, and I need to get out of here immediately, before he shows up.
I know he’s taking his time, stalking me, letting that picture build fear in me.
Still, he won’t wait forever.
I have to leave tonight, once it’s dark.
I spend the afternoon pacing and staring at my phone, counting down the hours until sunset. Once it’s finally dark out, I take a deep breath and turn my phone off to prevent tracking, then hurry outside to my V Star. It’s my best chance—I can’t get a ride from someone, because I don’t want anyone to know where I am. I take the most circuitous route I can think of to the lake, careful to make sure that no one is following me. Once I’ve decided it’s safe, I make my way to the dilapidated cabins that used to be Lake Eerie’s preeminent lakeside resort.
I don’t know who technically owns this place, but the resort has been closed since before I moved to Haven’s Hollow, so nobody ever comes out here. I pick the cabin closest to the forest and hide my bike in the back, concealed by foliage. Then, with a wince, I break one of the back windows and sneak in.
The old rental is still furnished with kitschy lakeside décor, including ancient board games, sporting equipment, and vintage oil paintings of ducks. While the idea of sleeping in the nasty old bed here doesn’t thrill me, it’s better than getting my throat slit by Evan. So I’ll find a way to make the best of it. Though I seriously hope there aren’t any bugs. I can live with mildew and dust, but I’m not big on creepy crawlies.
I sit on the musty old couch, a bundle of nerves who is startled by every noise—the chirping of night birds, the rustling of small mammals, the splashing of fish. Who knew nature was so freakingloud?
I have no real plan, other than to avoid Evan at all costs. But I can’t just stay here forever, so what do I do? I doubt the police could help me at this stage, since one anonymous text isn’t a crime and doesn’t even connect back to him. I’m going to have to come up with some sort of plan, one that probably involves leaving Haven’s Hollow.
My heart pangs at the thought. This town is my home, and I loathe the idea of being driven away by the absolute prick that is Evan Dempsey. Not only that, but where can I go? I have a comfortable savings account built up, because I make good money and hardly ever have any way to spend it—shopping is not my idea of fun—but I don’t even know if it’s safe to access it.
It was so hard to start over the first time. Running again, creating another new identity…the idea is exhausting. I guess the best plan is to escape into a big city. But I’m not a city girl any more. I love my small town, my bakery, my friends. I love my life.
A tear lips down my check and I swipe it away roughly. Crying never solves anything. I can either keep running, or I can grow a backbone and find a way to face Evan once and for all.
Exhaustion hits me all at once, so I climb under the old quilt in the back bedroom and curl into a ball. I’m sure it won’t be long before Evan is haunting me in my dreams.
CALLISTER
“Lord Callister? Are you well?”
I glance up to see Shackle, a lesser nightmare demon and royal steward, standing at the foot of my throne.
“What?” I ask. My mind has been wandering of late, and it seems Shackle has noticed. I have been neglecting my duties, not that the demons should care. That leaves more nightmares for them to enjoy and ingest. But Shackle pays attention to my nourishment; he won’t have me wasting away.
He bows. “I merely wondered if you were well, sire. Forgive me, but you’ve seemed somewhat distracted recently. And there are demons waiting for an audience with you. To give the monthly report on their successes and failures.”
I frown. “I’m fine, and I’ll deal with them later. Send them away and carry on with your business.”
Shackle looks upset, but he steps away silently, leaving me to brood.
Truth be told, Iamfeeling distracted. Unmoored. Unsatisfied with my usual job. Normally, I enjoy exploring new places, new minds, seeking out fears and exploiting them through nightmares. And I enjoy checking in with my minions, finding out what sorts of fears they’re spreading in the dreams of humans. The most creative ones generally receive rewards, which is why they’re so eager to check in.
It’s what I’ve been doing for millennia.
But at the moment, it all seems soboring.
Now that I’ve found Libra, she’s all I can think about, and I don’t know why. Yes, she’s special for a human, but in the end, she’s stilljusta human. She has dark hair, eyes like melted chocolate, and the kind of lips other women pay to have. Intriguing tattoos decorate her fingers. But many human women are physically attractive. That alone doesn’t make her special. She’s beautiful, alluring, but a mere mortal all the same.
So why am I so captivated by her?
Why is her fear so much better than any other I’ve ever encountered?
