Keeping my focus on him and his impending wrath held all other thoughts at bay. Better to look ahead than at the horror under my brain fog.
The air snaked Jo’s brassy red hair across her face, and the streetlights paled her skin. She caught my stare and smiled. I linked my arm with hers and sighed. It might take me forever to trust that she was back to being normal Jo.
Callum’s gaze locked on the road ahead. I felt the need to say something to him but my mind moved too slowly to come up with anything that sounded right. A ‘Thanks for burying my mom’ didn’t feel even close to enough.
Soon, his headlights swept through the parking lot and stuck on the wall of the motel, our home away from home by order of the Kansas Department of Agriculture until they knew why our yard turned black. They’d get quite the surprise in the morning when they saw it had healed itself.
The bright lights outside the second floor rooms stained shadows all over a lone figure on the walkway above, a skinny one with a book and a pen light.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “This could be worse than the Sorceressi.”
Callum shook his head then looked the other way.
“Surely one of your superpowers is mind control.” Jo frowned, as if she didn’t believe that either. “But if not, good luck.”
“You, too,” I said and ducked out of the car.
Jo slammed the door behind me, which made me jump a little, then waved. They backed out and rode off, leaving me all alone. Well, almost all alone.
I watched them go for a second, but the shadow above lanced the top of my head like only an angry dad’s stare could.
The puddles in the cracked pavement rippled with the moon’s reflection, and I hopped over them on my way up the iron staircase. Time to face the music, or in this case, really loud shouting. Every step upward vibrated doom, doom, doom. I gave it the middle finger for the friendly reminder and rounded the corner.
As soon as I reached the top step, the shadow unplugged the pen light from his mouth and shined it in my face. I turned my head away from the spots dotting my vision and took my final steps toward him.
The green paint on the walls and doors had peeled and crumbled to the walkway like little piles of broken dragon scales. My boots crunched over them. Welcome to Krapper’s finest and friendliest Crumbly Motel.
“Why didn’t you call?” Dad asked in a low voice. He sounded as tired as I felt. And way pissed.
“I’m sorry.” I blocked the light with my hand and tried to look him in the face. “I lost track of time.”
“Were you really working on a school project?”
The truth was loony-bin crazy, and I’d already lied before. Might as well play it up. “Yes, I was. And we finished the pirate project. The pirates have sailed on to loot and pillage their hearts out. I’m really sorry I’m late, Dad.”
He stood, his book tucked under his elbow, the pen light still aimed at my eyes. “Do you have any idea—”
A loud thud came from inside the motel room. Both our heads whipped toward the door.
My heartbeat skipped. Too many bizarre things had happened. Too many weird sounds would haunt me forever, and this one didn’t feel right at all. I lunged for the doorknob, but it was locked.
“Darby?” I shouted and pounded on the door.
“Leigh, quiet down. I’ve got the key.” Dad pulled the card from his pocket and stuck it in the slot.
When the light flashed green, I tore through the door. I had to wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim overhead light before I saw her. Directly across from us. Outside on the balcony. Leaning over the railing so far I could barely see her upper half.
Her purple mermaid nightgown fluttered around her legs. A sudden sharp breeze tossed the hair around her shoulders and unsteadied her grip on the rail for half a second. That half second shot me across the room.
Once I reached the balcony door, I grabbed her foot and pulled. “Darby, what are you—?” Something trickled from my nose. I brushed it away, and blood smeared my hand.
A pinprick of dread punctured the small amount of hope I clung to. Hope that all the nightmares in my life could be done. That hope left me deflated when Darby turned around.
Blood seeped from her nose, too. Her hands were covered with it. Terror blazed bright behind her glasses.
“You’re…you’re bleeding,” she said.
“You are, too.”
The hairs along my arms lifted. Both of us had nose bleeds and both of us were Trammeler Sorceressi. One and Two had warned me not to waste my precious blood, but now it flowed down both our fronts for everyone to see. For what? I swallowed. So we could be hunted down? With the balcony and front doors still open, I felt very exposed.
“What are you doing out here, Darby?”
Blood settled above the curve of her upper lip. “I—I thought I heard something.”
Dad, hovering in the doorway, raked his hands through his hair. “What on Earth is going on with you girls?” He took Darby by the shoulder and guided her to the bathroom. “Leigh, get the doors, and then let’s get you both cleaned up.”
I reached for the handle while holding a sleeve up to my nose. As I slid the door closed, a small, bloody handprint smudged the streetlights behind it. Darby’s. She was bleeding more than me.
A slow but steady doom, doom, doom of footsteps echoed up the stairs outside the still open front door. Someone was coming. And with them came the stink of nasty meat floating in a sewer. Even with all the blood gushing a river out my nose, I could still smell it.
Death. Coming closer.
Care to read more? You can find the second book here
Acknowledgements
I would like to tackle hug lots of people (and a kitty) for their support, friendship, and punches to the skull I needed to write this book.
Gabe and Jesse - How in the name of all that is holy do you put up with me and my brain every single day? Cookies and kitty treats to you both.
Mom and Dad - Both of you nurtured my imagination from the beginning. Thank you.
Brandon, Pat, and Heather - You all helped shape who I am, and there was very little bloodshed in the process!
Vanessa Wilson - You gave me the courage to write the first book, which gave me the knowledge to write the second. I’ll never forget that.
Rusty Baker – You seriously rock for going to the cemetery with me. There’s a reason why we’ve been friends since first grade!
Lorraine Kellner – We need to find you a Grammar Queen crown! Seriously!
Cassandra Marshall – Your enthusiasm for the story left me grinning for days. Thank you for that and your spot-on editorial comments.
Jordan Dane – Thank you for the kick in the head I needed to jumpstart the first chapter.
Melissa Robitille – Another hug goes to my wonderful editor number one who really “got” the story and helped me make it all shiny.
Rebecca Hamilton – (also known as editor number two and cover designer extraordinaire) I’m in awe of your ability to do everything you do and be brilliant at all of it!
And finally, my critique partners: Kieran Fanning, Pam Godwin, J. Andrew Jansen, Mysti Parker, Lisa Sills, Sarah Zama, and my other super-secret critter buddies. I will carry all of you around in my pocket so you can read everything I write for all eternity. Thank you for your honesty, your dedication, and your wicked coolness.
About the Author
Lindsey R. Loucks works as a school librarian in rural Kansas. When she’s not discussing books with anyone who will listen, she’s dreaming up her own stories. Eventually her brain gives out, and she’ll play hide and seek with her cat, put herself in a chocolate induced coma, or watch scary movies alone in the dark to reenergize.
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The Grave Winner Page 22