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“Almost done!” I say. “I’m almost—”
The hand wrenches me off my feet. I twist to see who has me, and it isn’t Kit. It isn’t Jayla.
It’s Garrett.
Garrett has me in his grip, his face lowered to mine. His eyes aren’t black anymore. They’re blue. Garrett’s eyes.
“You did this to me,” he says, his face twisted with rage. “You brought me here.”
“The fuck I did,” I snap.
I’m dimly aware of the horror of his ravaged body. Of his sliced neck, his severed arm. But I don’t care. I no longer give a fuck about Garrett. I am no longer afraid of Garrett. He might be holding me so tight I could gasp with the pain, but he is dead, and I am sorry for that but I amnotafraid of him anymore.
“You ruined my life,” he says, his voice that gravelly distant sound, as if that’s all he can manage with his torn neck. “All for one night. Less than a fucking hour. My girlfriend dumped me. My dad disowned me. He took away my college money, and I had to drop out. For what? Forwhat? No one made you get in my car. You chose to get in, and you chose to go to that party.”
“Because I thought it would be fun,” I say. “I was fifteen, and a college boy—a boy I trusted—was inviting me to a party, and I wanted to have fun.”
“And you did. I helped you relax, and I gave you what you wanted. A little fun.”
A little fun?
Seventeen years of tamped-down rage erupts in a single howl, and I lash out with both hands, pummeling him with everything I have. One fist hits his jaw. His head snaps sideways, and there’s a terrible ripping sound. The sound of flesh tearing.
I don’t see what I’ve done. I don’t care. I only care that his hand releases me, and I shove and kick at his mangled body until I am free of it. Then I drop to the crawlspace, spin the lock one more time, and throw open the hatch. When someone nudges my shoulder, I start to swing. Then I see Kit with Madison.
Kit’s gaze drops to Garrett’s body. It’s on the floor, twisting andcontorting. Kit yanks his gaze away and prods me into the crawlspace. I jump down and take Madison, lowering her to the bottom as gently as I can.
When Kit scrambles in and starts to close the door, I shout, “Where’s Jayla?”
He goes still. So completely still. Then his gaze swings past me, into the inky darkness of the crawlspace.
“She was right behind you,” he says. “I was getting Madison, and she ran to help you and—”
He doesn’t finish. He’s already shoving open the hatch to leave. “Stay here. Whatever happens, stay—”
A scream. An earsplitting scream of pain and rage that could come from only one person.
Jayla.
THIRTY-THREE
I scramble out of the hatch. Then I remember Madison. Two excruciating seconds tick past. I need to stay with Madison, to protect Madison. And Jayla? Let Kit fight whatever is attacking Jayla while I huddle in the crawlspace? No, Garrett is taken care of. Madison is safe here… at least until I know what’s going on.
I glance back to be sure Madison is safely in the crawlspace. Then I slam the hatch shut.
Kit’s already running into the great room. I follow, and absolute black envelops me. I can’t see Kit’s cell phone light. I can’t see moonlight through the broken windows. I am plunged into a darkness so complete that animal terror explodes from me.
I’m blind. I’ve been blinded.
“Laney!”
Kit’s voice, sharp with panic, then his hand paws at my arm, as if trying to find me in equal darkness. I catch it and grip his hand, and he squeezes so tight I gasp. He doesn’t hear me.Idon’t hear me.
“Jayla!” Kit shouts. We’re barreling through the complete darkness toward a noise, but the noise isn’t Jayla screaming. I can’t tell if sheisstill screaming. All I hear is the roar of wings flapping. We’re heading that way because Jayla is there. She must be.
Something takes form in the darkness. Black against black, visible only as a whirling blur of motion. The crows. They’re a funnel-cloud mass, swarming, and in their midst, I catch flickers of something pale. Kit’s light-gray hoodie. My gut seizes. No, I’m holding Kit’s hand.
Am I sure it’s Kit’s hand?
