I had see if I could caught up with the killer to get a look at his face. It wasn’t Ida—it had been a man.
I sprinted into the Liam’s bedroom where the killer had disappeared into.
Liam’s bed remained unmade just like I’d seen in this afternoon. Nothing else looked like it had been disturbed. As I stepped further into the room, I saw Lloyd had a sliding glass door in his bedroom that led out to a patio. The door was wide open. The wind blew chunks of brown wet leaves onto the laminate floor. Rain shimmered on the floor in the moonlight.
I dove through the door and ran deeper into the woods. It was the strangest sensation. Even thought I was trampling at least two inches of twigs and leaves with every step, I didn’t make a sound. Everything was still shrouded in that surreal blue tint.
Being on the astral plane seemed to dull all of senses. It muted the colors, muffled sounds, and made me feeling as if I was moving through water.
Up ahead, I saw the dark figure. He was running wildly through the trees, arms pumping, boots kicking up dirt.
“Come on, come on,” I whispered to myself, willing my astral body to move faster. Why couldn’t I make myself go faster? It was like one of those nightmares where you’re running down a spooky hallway, but never get to the end.
I knew my energy was scattered. I was still reeling from the whirlwind of seeing Liam get stabbed and the medley of loving images bouncing around his subconscious.
On top of that, I was fighting my fear that I just couldn’t live up to Martha and her expectations for me keeping the Wilder legacy going. I couldn’t even get this astral projection thing right—I’d gone straight to Blake’s place to make googly eyes at him instead of finding the sheriff.
But I let those thoughts fall away. I’d spiral later.
Right now, I had to see who’d tried to use the killing curse on Liam. Further and further, I ran—though miraculously, I appeared to be gaining on him.
A strange whistling rang in my ears—the sound of the astral plane? I wasn’t sure.
“Stop right now, and I won’t hurt you,” I yelled, but I was getting weaker and my voice sounded like I was shouting into a pillow.
And just as I felt that surge of hope that maybe I would get a good look at this man, the most bizarre thing happened—the man split in two.
One moment there was one man sprinting down the mountain, dodging trees, and the next minute there were two men. Both were tearing through the forest like their lives depended on it. Both were completely identical in height, shape, and gait.
Had the killer just astral projected himself right in front of me?
I glanced at both figures, trying to decide which one to go after. One was likely the physical man, and the other was like me, an astral version. I supposed I had a fifty/fifty chance of getting it right. Although, did it even matter? All I needed was to see the killer. That was all I would have been able to do as an astral projection.
I made a split second decision and picked the figure on the left. He was moving slower, and I could see him kicking up leaves even though I couldn’t hear anything. That had to be the real one. I veered right, and let the other figure disappear from my view.
The man was slowing, but so was I.
Suddenly, streams of rain glittering in the moonlight disappeared. The sky turned an eerie shade of navy.
My strength gave out. I scrambled to get up, but my knees kept buckling. I couldn’t feel the brittle brown leaves or the dampness of the mud. I’d been so close—so close to finding out who this man was.
Hopelessness drifted down on my like the last falling leaves of autumn.
I needed to go home and regroup. I didn’t know what would happen if I didn’t get back to my body before I read out of energy, but it probably wasn’t good.
I rolled over and grabbed for the sliver thread. I could pull myself back, arm over arm, along the thread until I made it back to Benjamin and my body.
But something wasn’t right.
As I tugged on the thread, I didn’t feel any tension at all. Confused, I reeled the thread in, wrapping the excess around my elbow, and after a minute or two of this, I saw the issue.
Someone had cut the thread.
The killer—his astral projection must have snuck behind me and severed the thread that was meant to guide me back while I’d been chasing the real man.
I rolled the end of frayed of the thread between my fingers. “This isn’t good,” I said to no one in particular.
The space around me faded to darkness. I wasn’t sure if it was from the storm or because I was disappearing.
Was this it for me? Why hadn’t I turned back in time? Why had I been so reckless?
“Take me back to my body,” I begged. “Can anyone hear me? I’m lost and I can’t move. Martha,” I yelled. “Liam? Benjamin?”
No one responded. I was all alone in the darkness. I laid my head down and the last thing I saw was my astral arm fading like a stain under running water.
I closed my eyes.
I heard heavy breathing. I felt the pinch of teeth. But how? I wondered dreamily. How was I feeling that physical sensation?
Chapter 19
I was being dragged through cold dark waters. Fingers reached up from the depths to drag me down. I wanted to kick them away, but I couldn’t. Each time their slimy hands touched me, my skin burned like someone was holding it to a flame. My body wasn’t my own, and my senses were blocked. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t taste. The black water splashed at my face and filled my mouth. I coughed up water, but it kept pouring in, filling my lungs. I couldn’t feel anything but cold and pain and despair.
Something tugged me through the water—not down to the depths where the reaching hands were.
Something was pulling me up by my shoulder. Up and up, until the water was disappearing below me and I could breathe again.
“Natalie,” a voice said. “Natalie, wake up.”
I felt a rough, wet sandpaper rubbing my face—warm and scratch.
My eyes fluttered open, and about two inches from my face was a tan and black snout and a thin pink tongue. “Where am I?”
“You’re back in your body.” a familiar voice said. “Congratulations.”
“Benjamin!” I sat up, throwing my arms around him.
“You owe for that,” he said.
“What happened to me?” Touched my head, feeling a whoosh of dizziness. “I feel like I was hit by a truck.”
“Do you realize how lucky you are to be here?” Benjamin snapped. “You were this close to being lost forever.”
I let my eyes drift around the room. I was in the living room, laying on the couch. The afghan was draped over my legs, and the fire still blazed in the fireplace. “I had the strangest dream. I was—”.
“None of that matters right now, Natalie. Focus. This is important. What’s the last thing you remember?”
I chewed my lip, thinking. “We did an astral projection spell and it made two of me.
Benjamin started to pace. “And what about after that? Do you remember anything?”
I frowned. “I—I don’t know. Did I pass out?”
“You astral projected somewhere. Do you remember that?”
I licked my lips as I thought. Images started to flutter back to me. “Everything was blue.”
“Ok, yes. That’s it. What else do you remember?”
“I was in the woods. The killer was there.”
“Did you see the killer’s face? Was it Ida?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sitting up straight. “Why can’t I remember anything?”
“Take some deep breaths,” Benjamin said. “Try to relax. The memories will start to come back—most of them.”
I closed my eyes, trying to focus. “I saw the killer. I chased after him.”
“It was a him?” Benjamin said. “Are you sure?”
“Try, Natalie.” Benjamin urged. “Come on, remember.”
I shook my head. “I
don’t know—maybe.”
“I can’t remember all of it, but I think the killer split in two. I think he astral projected himself just like I had. And he cut my thread.” I dropped my face to my hands. “That’s all.”
Benjamin sighed. “Well, at least you’re still alive.”
“Was that even a concern?” I tugged the blanket up to my shoulders.
Benjamin drew his paws of the couch and sat on the floor. “You didn’t come back. It’s been hours, Natalie. Your physical half was here with me, and at some point, you passed out. I went after you,” he said.
“You astral projected.”
“Yes, I used the same spell you did. I had to. If you were to stay on the astral plane too long, you’d get stuck in it.”
“Why?”
“Think about it,” Benjamin said. “You’re a living human right now, and this is your world. The astral plane isn’t where you belong, and the longer you are away from your body, the weaker you get. If you get too weak, you lose consciousness. And when that happens, your essence drowns in the sea of lost souls.”
I picked at my fingernails, remembering something. “You mentioned the sea of lost souls. You said it was a joke.”
“I lied,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
“What exactly is the sea of lost souls.
Benjamin looked away. “It’s self explanatory, really. Imagine a big sea with a slew lost souls floating around in it. You were in it. Do you remember that?”
I nodded slowly.
“When you didn’t come back to your body, I went into the astral plane to find you. I knew where to look. Had I been about three minutes later, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
I frowned. “So… that wasn’t a dream.”
“It certainly wasn’t. I pulled you out of the water. You’re lucky I’m such a good swimmer.” He gave his head a slight shake. “That water is disgusting, by the way. My astral form has probably picked up all kinds of questionable ghost germs.”
“Those hands pulling me down,” I said quietly. “They were real?”
“Well, ‘real’ is relative when you’re talking about the astral plane, but yes. They were very excited about having a new soul to devour. A witch’s soul, no less.”
“If you hadn’t saved me, what would have happened?”
“The lost souls would devour your soul and you’d die. Then you’d eventually be come a lost soul yourself.”
“So, I guess that means I owe you?”
He snorted. “You think?”
I clutched my head, trying to massage out the pain. “My head is killing me. Why can’t I remember anything?”
“Because you had already spent some time in the sea of lost souls before I got there. The ghosts feed off your soul—literally. The first things they eat are your memories. Next are your emotions, and I think you can figure it out from there.”
“They ate my memories?”
“Most likely. Unless you’re just incredibly forgetful. But usually they eat the memories that are most important to you first. Those are the tastiest—so I’ve heard. My guess is they ate your memories that had to do with identifying the killer, and there’s probably more that you can’t remember.”
I leaned back in to the couch cushions. “This is going to sound weird, but I think was in Blake’s bedroom at some point.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, I think we were sitting on his bed.”
“You’re telling me that while you were astral projecting, you went to Blake’s bedroom in the middle of the night?”
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
“Whatever it was, apparently those ghosts found it extra tasty.” He cocked his head at me. “Right?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Benjamin. I was an astral projection. Nothing that weird could have happened.”
“Clearly you have not seen the movie ‘Ghost’.”
“Enough.” I held up my hands. “I think we need to talk to Liam. For some reason, I was worried about him, I think. We also need to look again at everyone’s alibis,” I said. “If the killer knows how to astral project like I was doing, he could have been in two places at once.”
Benjamin caught the end of the blanket in his teeth, pulling it down over my feet. “First, you are going to rest. You’re in no shape to be walking around, let alone tracking down killers.
“Fine, I’ll sleep.” I scooted lower on the couch, resting my head on the pillow. I was to tired to argue. “Will you sleep down here with me?”
“Of course, I will.”
Chapter 20
Benjamin and I woke to someone banging on the front door.
Benjamin made it there first. “It’s Blake,” he said.
I staggered to the door, rubbing my eyes, still feeling the effects of my astral projection adventures from last night.
Something flashed in Blake’s eyes when he saw me, and I knew, without a doubt, something had happened last night. An image of him in his blue boxer brief’s came back to me, and heat rose to my cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Angie has Liam at the station. Lola found him unconscious in his trailer this morning.”
Breath caught in my chest as another memory floated back to me. “Someone used the killing curse on him. I saw it happened.”
“I’m going to the station, do you want to come?”
I nodded, snatching up my coat off the bench and stepping into my Ugg boots. “Is his ok?” I asked, following Blake out to his truck. Benjamin ran alongside me.
“I don’t know, Natalie,” Blake said.
“Why is he at the police station and now the hospital? Did she arrest him?”
Blake’s hands shook and he shoved the key in the ignition. “He’s a werewolf, Natalie. He can’t go to a hospital. The sheriff knows a little about how to care for him, but to be honest, this was something Martha handled. I called over to the Harris mansion. Maybe one of them can help.”
We drove down the mountain to the little police station I’d stopped at on my first night at Wolf Mountain. Blake got out of the truck and I slid out of the passenger seat. Those two silly hound dogs raced over to me, but when they got to me, all they wanted to do was smell my shoes and lick my hands.
Instead of walking into the police station door, Blake headed for the garage to the side of the station where the fire engine was parked. He heaved up the garage door and stormed in with Benjamin and me right on his heels.
Liam lay on a cot, an IV dripping into his arm. His shirt was torn and red with blood, but the skin underneath was smooth as it nothing had ever happened—no bandage, no wound, not even a scare.
The room was equipped with bandages and random first air equipment, but it was primitive. There was no machine to read his vitals, no comforting beep that measured Liam’s pulse.
Liam’s right arm was handcuffed to the bed. If Liam had been healthy, I had no doubt that he could have ripped the bed frame to free his arm. But he wasn’t healthy. He was pale, lifeless, and younger.
Angie sat in a chair beside the bed, with a clipboard in her arm. She work he tan uniform, complete with the badge and gun.
“Is that silver?” Blake demanded, jabbing his finger at the shiny handcuff.
“Blake, I need you to stay calm.” She stood up, setting the clipboard on the chair.
“The guy’s unconscious. We don’t know how bad off he is. The silver is going to make him weaker.” Tension weaved through Blake’s arm and shoulders as Blake jingled the handcuff. “Come on, Angie. It’s Liam.”
“You know what he is,” Angie said. “And you know why that handcuff needs to stay one.”
Blake clenched his jaw. “This is wrong, and you know it. Someone tired to do a killing curse on him. Natalie saw it.”
Angie’s eyes flicked up to mine. “You were at Liam’s last night?”
“I think so.” I shook my head. “I don’t remember everything. I was a
stral projecting.”
The sheriff pursued her lips, and headed for the door. Her boots squeaked against the painted concrete floor of the garage. “Let’s talk outside,” she said.
I glanced at Blake who gave me a nod.
“I’ll stay with him.” With a stony expressions, he dragged the chair closer to the bed, and sat down.
Benjamin chose to come along with me.
Once outside, Angie hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and leaned close. “Look, I’m under a lot of pressure here from the Honeycutts. Lola told me that her and Liam had been dating. Apparently, when Lola found him, he had partially changed into a werewolf. She was hysterical.” The sheriff led me over to the station, so Blake could no longer see us. “Frank and Ida are furious. It took a significant amount of memory dust to get Lola calm again, and even more to get her to forget.”
“So what?” I whispered. “None of that it Liam’s fault. He’s a victim just like my aunt was.”
“He’s not a victim.” Angie shook he head. “He’s a werewolf, and my job is to protect the people of Wolf Mountain. I have to do right by Frank and Ida. If Liam’s dating their daughter, it’s only a matter of time before he loses control.”
“What are you saying? Are you going to kill him or something?”
“There’s a place on Wolf Mountain were we keep the monsters that have gotten out of control—a special prison. That’s probably where I’ll take him.”
“Your going to lock him up?” I said, furious. “That man is fighting for his life.”
“At this point, it’s for his own good,” Angie said. “I either lock him up, or Frank will kill him.”
“So lock Frank up,” I said. “People can’t just go around killing people for dating their daughters.”
“We’re not talking about people, Natalie. We’re talking about a monster.”
I shook my head, disgusted. “Where’s Frank now?”
She signed, rubbing her forehead under her blonde bangs. “He’s at the lodge. He’s watching Chris for me.”
“This is a weird question, but when you were fishing with Frank, do you remember him holding anything?”
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