“Goodbye, Sarah,” the witch said.
Sarah grabbed hold of the cross, then quickly pulled it from her pocket. The witch hissed, releasing Sarah and retreating from the sight.
Sarah crumbled to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, but she had the good sense to keep the cross raised, keeping the witch at bay.
“You won’t be able to stop it!” the witch screamed.
Sarah stood, adjusting her grip on the cross, checking behind her for Kegan’s progress, who seemed unfazed by the holy object. “We’ll see about that.” Sarah inched the cross closer, drawing more agitation from the witch.
“GAH!” The witch hastened her retreat, and Sarah was only a few steps from the foyer. She’d head out the front doors and then run as fast as she could for the woods.
The witch looked past Sarah and at Kegan, the beauty from her face faded and stretched into a murderous rage. “What are you doing? Kill her!”
Kegan lunged forward, sprinting toward Sarah, but she’d already turned the corner and headed for the door. She turned as she opened it and saw Kegan barreling toward her, the distance between them already cut in half.
Sarah thrust herself out into the cold, her feet smacking against the hardened concrete as she made a sharp right toward the woods. She churned her legs faster than they’d ever moved. Her lungs and muscles burned. She kept her eyes on the forest, not even daring to look behind her, knowing that giving in to the urge would mean her end.
Pavement transformed to grass, and before Sarah realized it, she was across the grass and in the forest. Her ankles shifted awkwardly from the harsh terrain of the forest floor, and she pivoted her hips and shoulders, weaving through the trees.
And still Sarah didn’t look back. Because all she could think of was running, and the consequences of what would happen if she was caught.
85
Reality and fantasy had blurred. Dell was convinced that it was the power of the place he was trapped in. Never in his life had he experienced such pain at the hands of resurfaced memories and forgotten fears.
It was like the very air he breathed cultivated the terrors of his past and the uncharted fears of the future. And the longer he stayed, the more he inhaled, the worse the harvest of his mind became.
It started small at first. He’d black out for a minute, and images of his father’s abandonment would flash in his mind. He never saw his father’s face as he walked out the front door, suitcase in hand. But every clack of his heels against the floorboards pounded in rhythm with Dell’s heartbeat.
Dell tried to chase his father, but his mother kept hold of his arm. Tears squeezed from his eyes, blurring the final images of his dad that he possessed, screaming for him to stay, begging his dad not to leave. He pulled harder against his mother’s arm, and she finally let him go after he was out the door and had started the car.
Dell twitched in his sleep, bursting out into the sunlight, but there was no warmth that greeted his face as he leapt off the front porch and tumbled to his hands and knees on the grass.
Clouds of dust were kicked up from the tires of his father’s truck, and Dell hacked and coughed as he inhaled the particles, unsure of why his father was leaving and where he was going, and angry that he never had a voice in his departure. But no matter how far he ran, or how fast he moved, he never caught up to the truck. The trail of dust kicked up swallowed him whole and choked him. And that’s when he would wake.
Dell’s eyes popped open as he drew in a ragged breath that hurt even worse than his nightmare. He pushed from his back to his side and struggled to breathe, his hands pressed against jagged rocks and its uneven surface that never allowed comfort.
“It’s better if you stand,” Allister said, appearing at his side.
“I can’t,” Dell said, his face grimacing in pain.
“It just feels like you can’t. Come on, up you go.”
With the old man’s help, Dell rose to his feet, and despite the agonizing pain, he did feel better once he was off the ground. He brushed what looked like black coal dust from his arm and then winced from a sharp pain in his abdomen. He wearily lifted his shirt and found the scales had spread to the lower portion of his ribs.
“It’s getting worse,” Allister said, looking at the spreading disease.
Dell let go of his shirt and then stumbled a few steps, suddenly dizzy and lightheaded. “How much time do you think I have left?”
“Not much,” Allister answered.
And as if to echo the impending doom, the drums for war beat over the horizon. Dell turned toward the army of demons and the undead that grew restless in the valley. The sky had brightened with fire, though there were still dark blotches of black and harsh greys, as if the sky was nothing more than a smoldering piece of fresh coal.
“She’s fighting for you, Dell,” Mary said, appearing alongside Allister.
“Sarah?” Dell asked.
Mary nodded, smiling.
“I wasn’t sure if she would.” Guilt flooded Dell’s veins, knowing that even after his sacrifice, she wasn’t out of danger. “I can’t fix it.”
“Fix what?” Allister asked.
Tears formed in Dell’s eyes, and he scuffed his heel against the jagged and rocky terrain. He thought of his mother, his father leaving, all of the kids that had teased him in school, the Bells, his work as a cop. None of it was good enough. Not even giving his own life.
Dell flapped his arms at his side, and a spurt of laughter dribbled from his lips. “No matter what I do, I just can’t get it right. It’s like I’m—”
“Broken on the inside,” Mary said.
“Like your thoughts are twisted and rotten,” Allister added.
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