“I’ll be right back,” Scarlet said as she let herself inside the shop to find Heather.
Gabriel moved to follow after Scarlet, but paused, suspicion crawling up his spine. He looked around, but saw nothing unusual.
Huh.
Stepping back to the door, Gabriel grabbed the handle as he saw Scarlet head to the back of the shop. A heavy thud, a sharp pain, and Gabriel was gasping for air.
What the…?
Stiff hands wrapped around Gabriel’s throat, yanking him backwards into the shadows of a deserted side street. With a swift movement, Gabriel unlatched his assailant’s hands and spun around, grabbing the knife from his coat. Again.
Avalon was crawling with Ashman tonight.
He thrust the knife at the Ashman and cut straight through the creature’s chest. As the Ashman fell to the ground, another Ashman came from behind and stabbed Gabriel’s shoulder.
With a grunt, Gabriel turned around and proceeded to take on the second Ashman. He fought and wrestled, being careful to stay away from his attacker’s weapon. Gabriel backed him into a nearby alleyway and jabbed him in the throat with the butcher knife.
Another Ashman appeared and Gabriel pulled the butcher knife from the dead Ashman’s throat and made contact with the next Ashman’s gut, slicing him straight through. He watched as the Ashman fell to his knees and began to crumble.
Gabriel kept his knife poised, breathing heavy as he looked at the crumbling bodies around him. They had almost turned to Ash when a noise caught Gabriel’s ear.
He turned around to see three more Ashmen headed toward him.
Ah, hell.
76
Tristan’s heart was racing. “I swear I just saw an Ashman over here.” He walked behind the dunk tank again and scanned the dark areas beyond.
Nate said, “You probably did, man. But he’s not here anymore.”
Palms sweaty, Tristan refused to give up. Something felt wrong. Something felt…like a trap. “He was here. I swear. He was looking right at me. Like he was…baiting me.” Tristan pulled an extra knife from his coat and handed it to Nate. “Just in case.”
“Dude.” Nate stared at the blade. “What is with you always being armed? It’s weird.”
“If by ‘weird’ you mean incredibly convenient, then yeah. It’s ‘weird’.” Tristan wiggled the knife. “Just shut up and take the weapon. And, if you have to use it, no battle cries.”
Nate’s mouth fell open as he took the knife. “I’ll have you know that battle cries were critical to the discipline and accuracy of ancient Japanese samurais.”
“I don’t care,” Tristan said. “I don’t want you making animal sounds if an Ashman appears, got it? You are not a samurai, Nate. You’re a medically-savvy immortal with Star Wars bed sheets.”
“My sheets have nothing to do—”
“Stop arguing and help me find the Ashman.” Tristan went back to searching the park.
Nate huffed a little and muttered, “I could be a samurai.”
Tristan wrinkled his brow. Something felt terribly wrong.
Tristan’s heart continued to race.
After searching The Millhouse and not finding Heather, Scarlet went back outside.
“Gabriel?” She looked up and down the busy street, but Gabriel was nowhere to be found. She stepped into the road to get a better look at her surroundings. Where could he have gone?
Scarlet glanced down the street again and her gut tightened.
Parked in front of the Avalon cemetery was Laura’s car. Scarlet’s palms began to sweat.
Laura. Raven.
She was raising the dead. She was making new Ashmen.
Fear and hatred heated Scarlet’s veins as she looked around for Tristan or Nate. But they were nowhere to be found either.
Scarlet searched for Gabriel again and her pulse quickened.
Gabriel was missing.
Heather was missing.
Tristan and Nate were missing.
Scarlet looked back at Laura’s car and determination came over her. She would confront Laura, she would play dumb and convince Laura to come back to the fair with her and, once Laura’s guard was completely down, Scarlet would lure her to the boys—wherever they were—and they could detain her.
Or kill her, depending on which boy got to Laura first.
Then Scarlet saw her.
Wearing a tight black dress and red high heels, Laura walked out of the cemetery and headed for her car. Her red hair glinted in the moonlight and her long legs looked flawless as they carried her through the night.
You better pray Tristan doesn’t find you first, Scarlet thought as she started walking toward her lying, deceitful witch of a guardian.
When she was close enough for Laura to hear her, Scarlet called out, “Hi Laura.” She tried to sound normal. Friendly.
Not murderous and betrayed.
Laura turned around and her eyes grew. “Scarlet. What are you doing here?”
They were only a block away from the carnival festivities, but the music and the twinkle lights seemed very distant.
Scarlet smiled. “I’m helping Heather at the fair.”
It was a lie and it rolled off Scarlet’s tongue like a ball of butter.
“Oh.” Laura gave a weak smile. “Good. Uh….” She looked back at the cemetery and then to Scarlet. “We should go home.”
Scarlet kept her smile in place. “Why?”
“Uh, because it’s getting late.” Laura swallowed and looked at the cemetery again. “And you haven’t been home much lately. So why don’t you just get in the car?” Laura opened the passenger door for Scarlet.
Like that was going to happen.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” Scarlet said, keeping careful eyes on Laura. No way was Scarlet climbing into a vehicle with a crazy witch.
Laura glanced at the coffee shop behind Scarlet. “Please get in the car.”
Scarlet looked behind her at The Millhouse where Heather still had not exited and a sickening thought hit Scarlet.
“Have you seen Heather?” Scarlet tilted her head to the side and tried to sound curious. Not accusatory.
Laura glanced at the cemetery and Scarlet’s gut dropped.
“Is she…?” Scarlet swallowed, her heart beginning to pound. “Is Heather in the cemetery?” Scarlet started to walk toward the front gates. “Did you take Heather to the cemetery?”
Scarlet couldn’t breathe as her steps turned into a run.
“Scarlet, get in the car!” Laura demanded.
Scarlet whipped her head around, but kept running. “Where’s Heather?
Laura’s face was hard. “Get in the car, Scarlet. Now!”
Scarlet turned back to the cemetery, her heart pounding out of control. Was Heather dead? Had Laura fed her to an Ashman? Was she buried alive?
The last thought hit Scarlet like a ton of bricks and propelled her feet to move faster toward the graveyard gates.
Because graveyards weren’t creepy enough without giant, nine-foot-high, wrought-iron gates with spikes at the top.
The sickness in Scarlet’s stomach churned dreadfully as she flung back one of the gate doors and, with a loud screech, the gate gave way beneath her pull. Scarlet ran inside the dark cemetery, wildly searching the grounds for Heather and instinctively heading for the ancient graveyard in the back.