I see you.
I gasped, terror gripping me as I turned over some of the other photographs, finding more and more messages for me.
I feel you.
I know you.
I want you.
I listen.
I watch.
I wait.
I hunger.
Soon.
Soon.
Soon.
Soon.
SOON.
The door slammed and my heart nearly burst as I ran towards it, needing to get the hell out of here. I grabbed the handle, twisting hard but it was locked.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Who’s out there?!” I demanded, my voice full of fury as I disguised my fear. “Let me out and face me yourself, you coward!”
They must have planned this, left that note on Miss Pontus’s desk. Who is this asshole??
I hammered my fist against the wood harder, panic warring in my chest. I didn’t want to be in here. I needed to get out. To find who did this. To destroy them for terrorising me.
“Let me out!” I cried then the door swung open and I stumbled forward into a hard chest.
Punch – I mean Toby - steadied me, his eyebrows arched in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
I lurched away from him in alarm. “Did you do this?”
“What?” he asked, looking confused enough that I believed him. “What‘s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yes, no, I don’t know. I need to see the Night Keepers.”
He drew me away from the door, not letting go. “You look pale, what happened?”
He glanced down at the photos in my grip and I quickly turned them out of his sight.
“Tate!” Blake called and I spotted him, Kyan and Saint striding towards me. “What the fuck’s going on?”
I moved away from Toby toward Blake, holding out the photos as Kyan and Saint flanked him. “I found these in there. Someone locked me in,” I breathed, sensing Toby still standing close and not sure if I wanted to share my secrets with him.
“And what are you doing at the scene of the crime?” Saint pinned his malevolent gaze on Toby and I shook my head.
“He let me out,” I answered before he could.
“I was in the restroom down the hall. I heard her shouting. Shall I get a teacher?” Toby asked, sweat beading on his brow.
“Just go,” Kyan snapped and he bowed his head, hurrying away.
Saint reached forward, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear as Kyan and Blake sifted through the photographs, their faces growing more and more furious.
Saint’s eyes promised cruelty of unspeakable kinds as he whispered a vow to me that made my heart feel strong. “We will find them and we will end them. You have our word.”
I sat on the jutting rockface three quarters of the way up Tahoma Mountain with my back to the hard stone and my left boot sticking out over the sheer drop below while my right leg remained bent in front of me.
My cellphone was ringing in my pocket, but I was ignoring it. Not that that would help for long. I had to answer. Today. Or someone would come in person. And that wouldn’t end well for anyone.
The view over the lake was picturesque and despite the biting cold in the air, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. From way up here you could hardly even see all of the buildings around campus. I could practically pretend they didn’t exist at all.
A bald eagle was riding the wind ahead of me and my eyes trailed its movements hungrily as I sketched out a tattoo design based on it. There was something about the majestic bird which called to the hungriest part of my soul. He was above it all. His only desires hunger or carnal. He didn’t feel hate or hurt or guilt. That was true freedom.
My dirt bike was parked up a little way down the trail I’d used to ride up to this place. No one else ever came up here. The paths were too steep and the drops too treacherous. There were mountain lions too. Not that I’d ever gotten too close to one. But I trusted the knife on my belt to get me out of that fight if I ever had to have it.
I pulled a packet of cigarettes from the inner pocket of my leather jacket and placed one between my lips. Saint would freak the fuck out if he realised I’d been smoking. Which he would. Because even if I destroyed all the clothes I was wearing, showered in bleach and washed my mouth out with an entire bottle of mouthwash, he’d still smell it somehow. And he’d know why. But I couldn’t deal with that knowledge right now.
I’d taken the pack from a freshman dickhead who thought he looked cool coughing his guts up as he tried to give himself a new, cancer-inducing habit. I’d really done him a favour by knocking his tooth out and taking them from him. Maybe I’d get a thank you card from him when I got back.
I hadn’t really smoked in over two years. But in my family, if you weren’t doing an impression of a chimney at all times with a cigarette barely clinging to its spot in the corner of your mouth, then people thought there was something up with you. I couldn’t even say for sure how old I’d been when I’d started smoking. Back when I’d given a shit about gaining my family’s approval. Either way, it was pretty fucking weird to be an eighteen year old who had already taken up the habit, gotten addicted and quit. Seemed like I shouldn’t have had time to
