Moonset

As I was jostled and bumped around my seat, I kept looking for some sort of guide. Some idea of where we were going.

Just as I was starting to get comfortable, Ash slowed the car and pulled off to the side of the road. “No more lights,” she said quietly.

“Is that a church?” I squinted.

“Oh,” she said, sitting back in her seat. She sounded … I wasn’t sure. Surprised? Resigned?

It was hard to say.

“Ash?”

Her hand moved, pointing towards the building. “It’s not a church. It’s a farmhouse. At least it used to be.”

“Used to be?”

She hesitated. “It used to be the Denton farm—Luca’s dad grew up there until the explosion.

After that, I guess they just left it to rot. They’ve lived in town ever since.”

“There was an explosion? Did it have something to do with Moonset?” If Mal’s dad had grown up there, it was a possibility.

“There was a party,” she said simply. “Something happened, but no one can agree on what.

Just that it was bad, and then something blew up and the house was unlivable.”

“This happened when they were in high school?”

“Yeah.”

“So it could have been a Moonset thing? Experimenting with Maleficia, maybe?” So why would Bridger come back here? Why to this particular place?

“It wasn’t just them, though. Everyone was at this party. All the kids they went to school with.

All the other witches. Whatever happened, happened to all of them.”

She looked over at the building, her hands clenched on the steering wheel. “Are you sure this is where she is? That they’re all here?”

“I don’t know.” My knuckles were white, my grip on the door handle should have dented the metal. “All I know is that Jenna’s in there.”

“And what if you find her? I know you don’t want to hear this, but … what if she wants to be there? Quinn said they could have left by choice.”

“You talked to Quinn about this?” I demanded. “He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know us. Jenna’s a lot of things, but she’d die before she ever became like them.”

I hated these questions, the uncertainty they raised. My plan was simple. Find them. Bring them home. Easy. So easy it couldn’t fail. As long as I didn’t stop to worry about what it all could mean.

But logic wasn’t always easy. And it was a lot more insidious.

“Okay,” she said. “Forget I said it. But if we’re going to go, we should hurry. God only knows what’s happening in there.”

Ash had gotten me this far—but she was right. I opened my mouth, planning to tell her to wait here, but she bulldozed right over me.

“Don’t do that,” she warned, a sharpness to her words. “Don’t do the boy thing. I’m not waiting in the car, I’m not running away, and I’m not leaving you by yourself so I can go find help.” She threw her door open, and nearly leapt out of the car. I hustled to catch up to her.

“Besides,” she snapped, now pointing her athame at me from over the hood of the car.

“Someone has to make sure you make it out of this in one piece. You’re not going to sacrifice yourself for nothing.”

Was she some sort of crazy person? “This is serious! You could get hurt.”

There was just a hint of crescent moon in the sky, but more than enough to throw just a twinge of light across her face, illuminating a look I’d almost call viperish. “Now might be a completely inappropriate time to say this, but I’ve always wanted to punch your sister in the face. Just once.” She paused, looking up towards the sky wistfully. “Just saying.”

This was the last thing I needed. I stared at Ash, proving herself to be the insane girl I’ve always known she was.

“God, I hope that’s not your idea of a pep talk,” I said.

The moment ended, we looked at each other, and began walking the dirt path to the farmhouse. The closer we got, the easier it was to tell that the farmhouse had seen better days. The building had wood siding, nearly peeled completely off. The windows in the front of the house were all broken, and weeds had begun growing up at the corners, feeding off the building like a parasite.

In short, it looked like something out of Children of the Corn, or any other rural horror movie.

I’m such an idiot for doing this on my own. I glanced at Ash. Almost on my own. I’d managed to shove every scrap of nerves down underneath the fact that I didn’t have a choice. I had to do this. The Witchers wanted to believe that Jenna and the others had left willingly.

Whatever happened, they’d look at them as suspects, not victims.

That was what kept me going as we approached. And then the darkness settled in, grew limbs, and squeezed us tight.

I t was still the middle of winter; it was always freezing at night. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice it at first, the way the cold crept inside. My jaw clenched, my body grew slick with sweat, and my legs trembled a little. This is normal, I told myself.

“You feel that?” Ash whispered, sounding … uncertain. Nervous. Two things I didn’t expect to ever hear from her.

I stopped, noticing that as I did Ash stopped immediately too, and listened. Silence. And then, once I allowed myself to focus on the things around me, I felt it. A feeling like being watched, only not by just one pair of eyes. Hundreds.

Half of me wanted nothing more than to freeze in place, and wait for it to move along. This wasn’t any normal predator—this was something that the core of my being feared. “We know we’re in the right place, then,” I said, keeping my voice pitched low. We were almost at the front door.

“What is it?”

“Maybe it’s the Maleficia. Maybe he’s already started invoking it.” Maybe it recognizes me.

“Keep breathing,” I cautioned.

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

“Come on,” I said. “I think it’ll be better in the house.”

I didn’t allow myself to think as I leapt forward, jumped the stairs on the porch, and threw open the half- hanging screen door. Only one hinge was still attached, making the bottom swing around haphazardly.

I twisted the knob of the front door and crossed the broken threshold. The moment I was inside, all the fear and nerves I was feeling melted away. There was nothing of the dark feeling inside—if anything, things inside were calm.

Too calm.

The front rooms were empty, except for leftover tools from half-finished renovation projects.

One wall near the side of the house had been ripped down to the studs, and bundles of wires had literally been pulled through drywall and left exposed.

I led the way, like I’d in some way be the one doing the protecting if push came to shove.

Middle school witches knew more magic than I did. My only saving grace was the athame—if it came down to it, I could seriously mess up whatever Bridger was doing here.

Ash and I didn’t talk, and we moved slowly, but neither one of us was making much effort to be quiet. The overwhelming, soul-crushing pressure outside meant that they were waiting for us. I kept in front of her, in case something came at the two of us. She kept pace with me, moving carefully through the house.

We didn’t have much further to look. The first open doorway we found—which looked like it had once