She moves back to her original position, unable to keep her sneer at bay. Rachel narrows her eyes and releases her cheek. “Do it again. I dare you.”
Instead, he asks, “Who are you?”
“If Mrs. Crenshaw was around, she’d say you sound like a broken record,” Rachel replies.
Golvath sneers. “Nancy Fraser? The same Nancy who dubbed me The Bone Carver? Oh, I showed her.”
“You put Mrs. Crenshaw out of commission for a couple of weeks at most. Be thankful you’re dealing with me instead,” Rachel hisses in defiance.
Golvath’s eyes bulge, a throbbing vein appears on his forehead. “Who are you?”
“I am your worst nightmare.”
As if summoned by her words, Ziggy flies into Golvath’s face, effectively blinding him. Rachel seizes her opportunity and runs down the hallway as fast as her legs can carry her, forgetting all about pacing herself. Golvath bellows, his outrage making the entire building tremble.
“Ziggy!”
Ziggy flies to her side, flashing bright gold as he keeps up with her. His glow fades the farther he travels. The golden sphere dims and entire patches diminish. Soon, Ziggy fades to gunmetal.
Rachel can’t bear to witness the Fae light lose its vibrant coloring or blinking out of existence altogether. “Are there any Sluaghs nearby?”
One flash.
“Close enough to the school?”
Ziggy flashes once more.
“It’s not an entire horde, beca—”
Two flashes interrupt her.
“Bring it here as fast as you can,” Rachel instructs.
Ziggy glides a few feet ahead before making an abrupt U-turn. The Fae light shoots back the way it’d come, quicker than she’d ever thought it could possibly move.
“Nobody outruns me,” Golvath screams, his feet pounding the floor behind her. “Nobody escapes me.”
“Go see a therapist, you creep.” Rachel readies herself to slide into the upcoming hallway leading into the more modern parts of the school.
Golvath’s rage turns feral as he roars obscenities, the thunderous sounds bouncing from one bare surface in the hallway to the next. His hatred catches up with her, slamming against the brick walls she’s built around her mind. Parts of her wonder if he’s right, if his vitriol is justified. Maybe she did treat him unfairly by not giving him a real shot. Perhaps she does deserve—
Without slowing down, Rachel squashes the weird thoughts—none of which belong to her—and mentally fixes the crack in the wall.
“That won’t work on me again,” she screams without glancing back.
His heavy footfalls slow ever so slightly as another enraged temper tantrum ensues.
Rachel puts out her hand to grab onto the wall. She propels herself around the corner and into the adjoining hallway.
You’ve successfully goaded a serial killer into chasing you, so now what? What’s the plan? She has no idea what comes next. All she can think to do is to stay out of Golvath’s reach until Ziggy lures a mythical creature back to her. Whether a Sluagh is any match for Golvath is a whole other story, one she prefers not to worry about while she’s running for her life, but the concern is real. There’s also the possibility of making a bad situation worse.
“You can’t go anywhere.” His voice sounds fainter, farther away, as if he’s stopped running after her. “Eventually I’m going to find you.”
“Bite me,” she mumbles, passing the girls’ bathroom where she had found the bone carving of Mercia. How long has it been since then? Two weeks? More?
Think about the plan.
Nothing forthcoming is feasible in the long run, but—
She turns into the main hallway, slowing down considerably so as not to stumble when she rushes over the debris. One misstep is all it’ll take to give Golvath the upper-hand. Rolling an ankle, spraining a foot, even breaking a toe can become a death sentence.
She won’t give him the satisfaction of making it any easier.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket.
She runs away from the smell of the cafeteria, the decomposing body in the pantry, all while hoping Holland and the other two townies who’re searching the school have preoccupied themselves somewhere else.
Rachel slows as she comes to the administration office’s open door and slips inside. She walks around the receptionist’s desk and into Principal Hodgins’ office, before gently closing the door. Finally, Rachel pulls her phone out of her pocket and reads the messages sent from Dougal’s phone.
R U OK?
Rachel slides down onto her haunches, leaning her head against the wall. She closes her eyes for a minute, catching her breath, before she musters the strength to respond.
Hiding in Hodgins’ office. Could use help.
She moves as soon as the message is sent. Back to the Black Box in search of a weapon—she’ll throw Golvath with a Gameboy or one of those really old Nokia 3310s if she has to. Maybe, if she targets his head, he’ll get a concussion or something. Luckily, she remembers seeing some knives in there earlier. Rachel finds a makeshift shiv and places it on the cabinet’s surface before spying Mercia and Dougal rushing toward the window.
“Hold on,” Mercia says when she closes in, her voice muffled, like she’s separated by water instead of glass.
Rachel nods, keeping herself from making too much unnecessary noise.
“Orion’s trying to break in through the cafeteria,” she continues. “It won’t work, he knows it, but—”
Rachel points to her phone before quickly typing: Stop talking. He’ll find me. She sends the message to Dougal, who shares it with Mercia.
She mouths, “Oh.”
Rachel types again, telling them about sending Ziggy to find a Sluagh and how she and Dougal shouldn’t be anywhere near here when it arrives.
Sluagh don’t kill witches, Mercia’s message reads.
Rachel raises an eyebrow and points to Dougal, mouthing, “Not a witch.”
Mercia’s shoulders drop as she says out loud, “I’ll keep him safe.”
Rachel looks at her phone again to begin her response when a sound just outside the principal’s office catches her attention. She glances to the door, listening for a discernable sound, while locking her phone and slipping it back
