To avoid capture, and due to sheer desperation, Rachel backs up against the farthest wall of lockers, until she’s cast in shadows.
Holland’s tittering grows louder, her footsteps sound nearer.
Rachel navigates the shadows one step at a time, inching toward the showers. She breathes slowly, keeps calm, and tries not to bump into anything. Making the slightest noise now, with Holland creeping about, could spell the end of her journey.
“I’m so bored,” the woman says, sounding almost as melodramatic as Holland sometimes does. “Let’s go do some science.”
“Ooh. Let’s blow something up,” Holland agrees, clapping her hands.
Rachel peers out of the shadows just as the woman grabs Holland’s hand and basically drags her back to the hallway, their humor already improving. She hears them sprinting away, gives it another minute or two, before she begins her own trek back to the exit. With a quick scan of the area, she determines she’s alone, and swiftly heads in the direction opposite of the laughter.
Past the water fountain, the football coach’s office stands in ruin. Beyond that, several more classrooms are situated on either side of the hallway—some have been in use since the additions were made to Ridge Crest High, while others have become nothing more than storage rooms. Forgotten objects from years past have taken up residence in some of those classrooms, becoming lost in time.
Another turn comes up, where the back staircase is located. Only the music room is up there, on the other side of the school, while the rest of the second story is practically wasted space.
Her cell phone vibrates and Rachel pulls her lifeline into the open.
Go back 2 bell tower – M.
She returns her cell phone to her pocket and thanks the heavens for the labyrinth-loving architects, all of whom had decided quantity was better than quality when it came to building this forsaken school. From her current location, Rachel has plenty of options on how to get back to the hallway that leads to the old schoolhouse.
She eyes the staircase, wondering if she should take that route. Too many variables at play. There are other ways, none of which pass by the science labs. Paths you know better. Rachel changes course, retracing her steps.
By the time she gets back to the girls’ locker room, she feels her energy levels fluctuate as her adrenaline wanes. Still, she doesn’t stop. She keeps walking until she comes to a narrow corridor that leads back to the cafeteria. There are no doors here, no features whatsoever. The reason for its existence is merely to serve as a shortcut to the other side of the building, yet no student has ever favored this route.
She stares at the end of the corridor, which inspires a bout of claustrophobia. From her perspective, the walls and ceiling close in bit by bit, until the opening on the other side looks barely big enough for a child to crawl through. She hesitates momentarily. There are other ways, longer routes, more treacherous paths, but time is ticking and Golvath has had centuries to hone his craft of hunting down victims.
Rachel sucks in a lungful of air and steps forward.
Twenty-Four
Death Knell
Every part of Rachel feels like jelly by the time she exits the corridor. Her pulse races ferociously. A trickle of sweat runs down her neck, soaking her collar.
The adrenaline injection is exactly what she needed, though.
She passes the cafeteria, finds no trace of Golvath or his influenced cronies who’re looking for her. She navigates her way through the debris, heading back to the old school building.
Stop. Wait. Listen.
Nothing.
When she comes up to the T-junction and finds it similarly empty, her synapses fire warnings.
Too easy, she thinks. She turns full circle, searching for anything out of the ordinary, and purses her lips. No way is it this easy.
Rachel stares into the dimly lit hallway, which ends at the bell tower, and recalls all the slasher films she’s watched. This is usually the part in the movie where the final girl gets lulled into a false sense of security, a time when stupid, preventable mistakes are often made. But what other choice does she have?
I might as well get it over with while I still have some fight left in me.
Gripping the shiv tighter, she musters all of her courage, and walks into the shadows with purpose. She could have tried skulking around in the half-light, should have probably been less conspicuous, but then she would be wasting precious energy. No. All of that would have been futile, anyway.
She squares her shoulders and holds her head up high as the gloom intensifies, fearless of the Fae lurking about.
“I know you’re here, Golvath,” Rachel says. “I can feel you watching me.”
“Funny.” Golvath’s voice turns her blood to ice as he wraps his arms around her, pinning her biceps against her sides. “I’ve been watching you for months and you never noticed before,” he whispers triumphantly in her ear, his hot coffee breath blowing against her neck and cheek.
Rachel strains forward before jerking backward as hard as she can. Her skull collides with his forehead harder than she expects, and white hot pain shoots directly into her brain. A starburst of light enters her vision, pinpricking her line of sight. Still, the blow is enough for Golvath to loosen his grip. While he moans, Rachel sprints out of his hold, down the ever-darkening hallway. She ignores the migraine blooming behind her right eye, disregards the possibility of having a concussion, and pays little attention to Golvath’s howl of frustration.
Focusing on her strides, she pushes herself into full speed, desperate to get as much space between herself and her murderous stalker as possible. Rachel darts through the darkness, forcing her legs to work harder, move faster.
“You’ll pay for that,” Golvath shouts somewhere behind her. He stalks
