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Fifteen

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“Alex.” The voice kept repeating my name, piercing through the throbbing, jaw clenching pain in my head. “Open your eyes. I know you can hear me.”

Slowly, sure my head would explode if I moved even my eyelids too fast, I obeyed. And looked into Mrs. Hyatt’s angry and not-quite-sane gaze.

She stood over me, dressed in clothes that looked like she picked them off the dollar sale rack at the local thrift store. I’d never seen her so sloppy—she always looked like an untouchable Barbie doll, perfect and pulled together.

Behind her I saw the crumpled SUV, on its side and still groaning from the crash. I had been thrown out, or she pulled me out. Either way, my body felt pummeled, and I couldn’t defend myself against her if my life depended on it.

“Sam—”

“Oh, he is quite alive, along with that freak of a cousin.” She crouched down, brushing hair off my cheek. “They should have died, with the others. I want them both to die, slow and hideous, like my Sarah.” I blinked up at her. Who was Sarah? Did I miss something? “But I am going to give you something Sarah never had. A chance.”

I wanted to scream when she lifted me, settled me against the back bumper of the SUV. It took all the strength I had left to focus on her voice.

“You have a chance to save one of them. Which one will you choose?” She tilted her head to one side, staring at me like an insane bag lady. “I look forward to finding out.” Leaning in, she whispered against my ear. “You can only have one of them back, and here is your clue: follow the path that led you to the haven.” She stood, pushed tangled hair off her forehead. I saw the smear of blood then, and the thin cut on her temple. “I can’t guarantee you’ll get there in time, but at least you have a sporting chance. Sarah did not.”

“Who—” I swallowed, my throat so dry it felt like I’d been drinking sand. “Who is Sarah?”

Mrs. Hyatt moved so fast I didn’t even have time to blink.

She grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me up, so angry her face flushed red. “Sarah was my daughter. She believed the haven was a good cause—and she died for that belief. For those freaks who don’t deserve anything but a slow death.”

The Hyatts had another daughter? I understood now why Katie felt like she was put at arm’s length. Mrs. Hyatt was too busy mourning, and apparently plotting an insane revenge.

“Please,” I whispered. “They didn’t have anything to do with—”

“They had everything to do with her death!” For a terrifying few seconds I thought she was going to hit me. Repeatedly. Instead she pushed me against the SUV and started pacing. “I thought the fire would be enough to stop them. But they are returning, infesting my town with their evil, walking among us like they have every right—”

She cut herself off and stopped, trying to straighten her shabby jacket, brushing her fingers through her hair. It would have been sad to watch, if I wasn’t so damn scared.

“Now, Alex.” She turned to me, neater, if not any less crazy. “You will have to find your own way. Just remember the clue, and with luck, you may be able to reach one of them in time.” She grabbed my chin, her fingers digging in so hard I was pretty sure she’d leave bruises. “And one last thing—if you remember nothing else, remember this: if anyone comes for one of them besides you, I will kill them. Are we clear? Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered. Horror lodged in my throat, and I was surprised I got that word out. I would have to find them on my own.

“Good girl.” She slapped my aching cheek, then slapped me again, harder. “That is for turning my Katie against me.”

My heart skipped at the mention of Katie.

Please keep her out of this!

I wanted to scream it at Mrs. Hyatt, but my throat wouldn’t cooperate. She raised her hand again and I braced myself. Instead of slapping me, she waved, and turned her back on me.

I watched her walk over to the white van and slide open the side panel door. Sam and Jake were both inside, tied up and unconscious. God—I hoped they were only unconscious.

Before I could get a word out Mrs. Hyatt climbed in, slid the door closed, and took off a few seconds later. Leaving me here, battered and alone.

After a few deep, painful breaths, I grabbed the bumper of the SUV, tried to pull myself up. My ankle caved the second I started putting any weight on it. With a hoarse cry, I went down. Hard.

Pain washed through me, constant waves that were starting to make me nauseous. I knew I’d hit my head in the collision, so I forced myself to stay awake. I had to get out of here, get help, before she did something that couldn’t be undone.

I searched my pockets for my phone, and saw it, on the other side of the SUV. In pieces.

“No—” Talking made the pain in my head worse, so I decided to stop doing it. Especially since I had only me listening.

I fought the pain, the lightheaded, nauseous throbbing, and wracked my brain for a way out. If I could get up, I might be able to make it out to the main road. Right—if I could get up.

Sam’s pale, blood spattered face had me trying. I refused to give up—not when I still had a chance of saving him. Of saving them both. Because I was going to spit in her eye and do just that.

Taking in another painful breath, I grabbed the bumper again, hauled myself up. Archery practice gave me arm strength I didn’t have before. I thanked Jake for all the pushing, and all the pushups I’d been doing.

Once I was steady, I tested my right leg. So far so good. Now for the biggie.

I was so confident I could do it that when my ankle gave out I didn’t have time to put my arms out to help break my fall. I did manage to twist enough at the last second, so I hit shoulder first instead if faceplanting the hard dirt. Did I mention it was hard?

After a few agonizing minutes of fighting to breathe, I rolled on my back, defeated. Tears burned my eyes, slid free when I blinked, and slipped back into my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Oh, Sam, I’m so...”

My raw voice faded as an idea smacked me. A stupid, most likely wouldn’t work idea, but hey—I was beyond desperate at this point.

Closing my eyes, I pictured the male model gorgeous face of the ghost I’d just met, and focused.

Simon—I need your help. Please, Simon, if you can hear me—

I cut myself off. Who was I kidding? Zach had the connection with him, not me. He wouldn’t be able to hear—

“Ye of so little faith.”

I held my breath, sure I was hallucinating. “Isn’t that a misquote?” I whispered.

The warm laugh shot through me, and I opened my eyes.

Simon knelt next to me. “Yes, but appropriate. What happened?”

I swallowed, my throat on fire from talking. “Can you find Zach? I need help.” In as few words as possible, I told Simon what happened.

His face went from concerned, to angry, to a raw fury I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of. Ever.

“I’ll get Zach here, I promise you.” He touched my face. I must have hurt too much, because it just felt warm. Human. “We’ll get them back. Just have faith.”

He stood, and disappeared.

If it weren’t for the lingering warmth on my cheek, I would have put it down as a pain induced hallucination.

Now all I had to do was wait, and hope Simon got through to Zach.

I hate waiting.