Chapter Text
Moonlight filtered through the gnarled fingers of tree branches reaching for the night sky, casting their shadows on the blanket of snow covering the ground she walked on. Barefoot. She shivered, watching her breath escape her frozen lips.
A crow cawed in the distance.
“Lilith…” a disembodied voice called out to her like a ghost of the past.
She tried to run, but it was as if those twisted roots erupted from the icy soil and wrapped around her foot, paralyzing her.
“Lilith...” Her name felt like a chilled breath against her naked flesh. Fear choked her, cutting off the scream in her throat. The skeletons of trees rustled in the whistling wind.
It was coming for her.
She was startled by the sound of fluttering wings. The inky silhouette of that lone crow stood in the snow before her.
“You…belong…to…me,” the haunting whisper beckoned.
She screamed.
Lilith was ripped back to consciousness gasping for breath through the soaked fabric of her pillow. Her sweat-drenched body was stiff, almost corpse-like despite her heart racing in her chest. She searched the darkness with unfocused eyes, recognizing the familiar shadows painted across her bedroom walls.
It was just a dream.
She fished for her phone, finding it buried in the covers that had wrapped around her like a straight jacket in the night. The bright light blinded her sensitive eyes, but she was able to make out the time on her Lock Screen.
3:06.
“Fuck me,” She groaned, tucking the phone under her pillow knowing her alarm for work would be going off in a few hours. Clammy and nauseous with sourceless anxiety, trying to sleep again would be a fruitless task. She was doomed for another restless night of tossing and turning with those images flashing in her brain. This was her new routine these days, like clockwork, the same recurring nightmare that had been visiting her for months. It didn’t matter what prescribed sleeping pill she took, she was cursed with the same tape playing over and over. Hell, she was beginning to consider therapy at this point.
People in her life said it was stress—that she was overworking herself these days. She’d argue, but the dark circles developing under her eyes and her growing caffeine addiction certainly didn’t help her case. She sacrificed more than that for the career she always wanted. Sleepless nights were just a guaranteed part of the deal.
That bull-headed tenacity is what had her rapping her knuckles on her editor’s office door later that morning. She was ballsy, even for a young journalist. At first, there wasn’t a response, and as she waited, she stared at the shiny nameplate that taunted her.
Marvin Anderson was a stout, middle-aged man. Balding, but too stubborn to let go of what little hair he had left from his glory days. Fingers too fat for the gaudy gold ring he wore on his pinky. That sky-high blood pressure of his was going to kill him one day.
He was in the middle of a call, distracted by the phone held up to his ear until he finally waved her in and he covered the receiver. “What do ya got for me?”
She didn’t hesitate dropping the heavy Manila folder in the center of his desk. “I want to go up to Maine.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he cursed under his breath, glancing up at her before crossing his hand over his chest. “Let me call you back, Joe.” He sighed begrudgingly, practically slamming the phone onto the plastic cradle before pushing away from his desk.
“You’ve been on this shit for months now,” he grumbled, giving her a look of disapproval. Anyone else in her position would’ve already been given the boot before they could defend themselves. The odds were stacked against her, but to her surprise, he picked up the folder and opened it, giving her the in she needed. He flipped through the printouts, motioning her to sit.
She’d rather stand, feeling like a starved animal about to trigger a baited trap if she sat, but she didn’t argue. “Just within the last three weeks, there have been half a dozen reports of stolen blood units from local hospitals in the area.”
She had worked at The Boston Times long enough to know he was just going through the motions, rifling through article after article she had collected for weeks on end.
He cleared his throat, the sound wet and thick inside his plump neck, “What are you suggesting? Black Market?”
“I don’t know yet. But I do know there’s a story here, Marv. I can smell it.”
Marvin huffed a condescending laugh, closing the folder and tossing it on his desk. He might as well have thrown the damn thing into the paper shredder. “You and that bloodhound nose of yours, Maddows.”
He leaned back in his chair, making it squeak with the weight shift. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed the tender spots under his glasses, and let out a heavy sigh while Lilith anxiously waited on the edge of her seat. She couldn’t even begin to explain to him how much she needed this—how much it had consumed her. It had grown from a passing curiosity to an addicting hyperfixation, and if she had a chance at normalcy again, she needed to see it through.
This could go one of two ways.
“You see this?” He gestured to the stacks of papers and folders spread out in front of him. “I’m up to my fuckin’ eyeballs of shit here,” he ranted with an aggressive prod of his index finger into the desk, assaulting the surface with each jab before sticking his thumb over his shoulder. “And I got those assholes upstairs breathing down my neck. So I need you here. At your desk. Writing the real stories.”
His dismissive words acted like a flint striker, igniting that anger deep within her. Her instincts made her want to go on the offensive, to stand her ground and fight for this—the weeks of sleepless nights spent working and researching what he was trying to toss away without a second thought. But if she got aggressive with him now, she’d risk blowing it entirely. Maybe her mother was right; she would’ve made a better lawyer.
You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, she remembered as she took a steadying breath. So, she elected to soften her tone, and hoped the doe-like look in her eyes would be persuasive enough. Was it cheap? Of course. But he was a man. And if Lilith learned anything in this field over the years, it was that men were predictable.
“Give this a chance. I think this is big.” She swallowed. The sound of her own voice made her nauseous—or was it the three cups of coffee she had on an empty stomach this morning? “Just take another look. Dozens of cold cases of missing persons within the last year, large amounts of blood being stolen, strange animal deaths—“
“We’re talking about the fuckin’ boonies here, Maddows,” he interrupted, “People go missing all the time up there in those mountains.”
“Marv, I’m begging you. This isn’t another lost hiker case,” she pressed, letting her volume get away from her. “There are patterns here.”
His bushy brows furrowed as he pulled his lips in, transforming his mouth into a thin line before he blew a harsh exhale through his nose. “Why aren’t they covering all this in Portland or… Bangor?”
He was poking holes in her argument. She had been calling the local newspapers to bigger city news outlets, but not a single person who had the decency to take her off hold could give her a solid lead. But that didn’t mean she wanted to tell him that. “That’s what I want to find out.”
He rubbed his shaved chin and stared at the cream-colored folder, contemplating the venture she was proposing. The moment of silence he left her in was torturous.
“I swear to God if you come back here with that superstitious whacko bullshit…” He’s pointing a fat, threatening finger at her. “This isn’t an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. We run a credible publication here and my reputation is on the fuckin’ line because of you.”
She flashed a smile as she jumped to her feet. “Have I ever let you down?”
He rolled his eyes, giving away that he was less than confident in her abilities, and held up his last three fingers, “You have three days to give me something worth a damn.” As she turned and reached for the door, he added, “And if you don't, these little field trips of yours are over, Maddows. Got it?”
Despite the pressures from her employer, the scenic drive was therapeutic. It was a needed break from the fast-paced, cutthroat environment Lilith called home. While she had adapted well to Boston’s chaos, evolving to survive within its concrete walls, she missed this.
Instead of the crammed interstates, death-trap exit ramps, non-stop city traffic, and busy subway stations, there were winding two-lane roads taking you through the quaint towns tucked away in the beautiful mountainside.
Lilith left her one-bedroom apartment before daybreak to avoid the worst of rush hour. She had unknowingly timed the trip perfectly, catching the sunrise peeking through the tops of spruce and firs. The golden light caught the changing leaves of October, capturing the splashes of vibrant, autumnal colors as if they were painted on with the stroke of an artist’s brush.
A blanket fog settled close to Earth like a waking breath. It had been years since she had been this far north, and she had forgotten the effect rural New England had on her. It was easy for one to romanticize life here.
She eventually passed the sign on the side of the road that read, Welcome to Kinsville…from here on your life will never be the same. Sounds a little ominous, she noted, but it was hard for her to believe this sleepy little town with a population of less than eight hundred was the epicenter for all the strange events.
A left turn off the state route led her down Kinsville’s main street. She drove past the small shops, spotting a used bookstore and corner market. Pumpkins and seasonal mums littered the sidewalks and Halloween decorations were tacked up across the paned glass windows, reminding her that it was a week away.
Seeing parents walking their young children to school, the elderly taking their morning stroll and the locals starting their day was a reassuring sight. Life was simpler here. Quiet.
She pulled her car into the gravel parking lot for Moe’s Diner. Calling it a parking lot was generous, given the fact three cars would be a tight fit. She hadn’t seen a franchise coffee shop in over an hour and was in desperate need of a fresh cup.
As soon as Lilith walked into the diner, the tiny bell above the door announced her entrance. She was met with closed smiles and nods from a few regulars as she walked through the restaurant. The aroma of strong drip coffee hit her nostrils, something almost as nostalgic as the dated interior. She slid into one of the open booths, scooting across the patched vinyl seat, and settled in with her bag.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she cursed under her breath after pulling out her phone and seeing that she barely had a single bar of cell service.
“Not every day we get an ‘out of towner’.”
It startled her, making her jump against the back of the booth. But once she saw that it was her waitress standing beside her, coffee pot in hand, she let out a laugh of relief, “Is it that obvious?”
She was an older woman, who appeared to be somewhere in her fifties guessing from her updo and the shade of red lipstick she wore. She skipped out on the whole cliche retro uniform, opting for a casual look with a cream-colored knit sweater and a pair of old blue jeans, but kept a white apron tied around her midsection. Lilith could smell the powdery notes of her perfume as she leaned to fill the heavy ceramic mug that was already set out on the table.
She hummed a giggle, perhaps for hospitality's sake, “Oh, honey, I know every face here and yours is a new one.”
“Hopefully a good one,” Lilith joked as she reached the sugar caddy. The waitress was polite enough, but there was a beat of awkwardness that made her slightly anxious. She cleared her throat, and took a shot in the dark by asking, “You don’t have Wi-Fi here by any chance?”
The waitress pointed to the specials menu tucked against the wall behind the ketchup bottle. “Right on the back, there should be the password. The older kids have been nagging us all summer to get the darn thing hooked up.”
“Oh, thank god.” She plucked the laminated sheet that looked like it had been made on a home computer. The “Boo-berry Pancakes Special” was printed on one side, making her snort, “Cute.”
“The little ones go crazy for those.”
The picture showed a stack of pancakes topped with housemade blueberry compote, a dollop of fresh whipped cream, and Halloween-themed sprinkles— the type of sugar overload that kids’ dreams are made of. “I bet they do.”
Lilith finally noticed the name tag pinned above her left breast. Mary Beth gave her a soft smile as she pulled her paper pad and pen out of her apron. “Anything else I can get you, honey?”
“No.” She tugged two sugar packets and answered with a shake of her head, “Oh…maybe some creamer for my coffee, please?”
Mary Beth tucked the pad and pen back in her apron pocket and picked up the glass coffee pot. “Sure, hon. Just let me know if you change your mind.”
With that out of the way, Lilith could finally relax. After adding a couple of creamers that Mary Beth dropped off, she sipped away at her coffee, relieved that it didn’t taste burnt. She looked around, taking in the quaint place. It felt like a time capsule with the wood paneling on the walls and beige table tops. It must’ve been at least forty years since the diner had been renovated.
As friendly and welcoming as the town appeared on the surface, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their stares. She made an effort to blend in more, ditching her normal business attire for a pair of jeans and boots, one of her favorite black sweaters, and a brown leather coat. There was nothing flashy about her outfit that screamed ‘big city journalist’, yet she still managed to stick out like a sore thumb.
Lilith tried her best to ignore her uneasiness and fished out her folder from her bag. She needed a plan.
She sorted through the cases until her concentration was disrupted by four middle-aged men walking past her and filling the booth next to hers. They were dressed in camouflage hunting gear like they had just come in from a morning hunt.
The strange, tense energy between them hooked her curiosity, so she kept her head down and listened in on their conversation when they started talking.
One of the men kept his volume just above a whisper, but Lilith picked up on his anxiety, “I’m tellin’ you, we need to get rid of the damn thing, Dale.”
A different man responded, who she assumed was Dale, “That’s the third one we’ve seen like that the last two weeks. Gotta report it to the Warden.”
“It’s out of season and I’m sure as hell not catchin’ a fine for it.”
After a beat of silence, a different voice chimed in, “What if you get pulled over haulin’ it down to Augusta?”
There was a cough, and then Dale spoke again, “It’s dead as a doornail…stiffer than all hell.”
“Never seen nothin’ like that before.”
From the fear in their voices, it sounded like whatever these men saw had shaken them up pretty badly. Lilith thought about the mysterious occurrences around the area and wondered if this was somehow connected. She knew she had to speak to them to get more information.
The first man that spoke suggested once more, “Should dump it.”
“What if it’s that… ah, shit.. that wasting disease they can get?” The third man asked.
Dale made a dismissive noise, “Eh…I don’t think it’s that.”
The fourth man finally spoke, “Take it back where we found it and put in an anonymous call.”
“I think they need to see this one.”
The first man scoffed, clearly disgruntled by Dale’s decision. “Well…the wife wants me back this morning so you have to go without me.”
“Then what’re you bitchin’ for then?”
Lilith acted on impulse and stepped out of her booth. Used to inserting herself into spaces she wasn’t welcome in, she interrupted with a friendly lilt, “Excuse me, gentlemen…”
They all stared up at her. If there wasn’t the chatter of other customers and the hum of the radio playing, she’s sure she would’ve heard a pin drop. The judgment in their stares was more than she predicted, and she started to feel the sweat collect across her brow. Her face flushed with heat and she tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat, “I...uh… sorry to eavesdrop, but I heard you talking about a deer—“
“We don’t got nothin’ to say to you.” The man sitting closest to the window on the right side of the booth cut her off before he dropped his head to sip his coffee. He must be the combative one that started their argument.
His salt-and-pepper beard and the deep crow's feet set around his eyes showed his age. Cold weather roughened the hands wrapped around his mug and the dirt, or possibly engine grease-stained nail beds, revealed a blue-collar man seasoned by years of hard, manual labor. It was no surprise to her he had some animosity toward the soft, cushy city life.
“Joel,” The man seated across from him scolded through his teeth. He appeared to be a bit older than his standoffish friend, with his silver hair sticking out from the edges of his camo hat.
“God dammit, Dale,” Joel spit back like a warning.
But before her only defender could utter a single word, Lilith assured with a wave of her hand. “No, it’s okay.”
Joel continued, driving home his disdain with a scoff, “Listen here, Red. I know your type and the last thing this town needs is some big city reporter sticking her nose in places she doesn’t belong.”
She must’ve not been the only one.
The thrown insults and condescending tone from a man who had most likely never left the state didn’t bother Lilith. Doors being shut in her face was nothing new. She stood firmly in her place at the edge of the table and scanned over their faces. The older man, who she guessed was Dale, was the only one to give her an apologetic look. The other two avoided her gaze and kept their eyes glued to their coffee mugs, waiting out the awkwardness until she’d leave.
Another loss. She sighed, giving them a cordial, but empty smile, “Well…on that note, I guess I’ll leave you to it. I apologize for bothering you.”
As she spun around, she stopped in her tracks to look at a man sitting alone on the other side of the restaurant. She didn’t remember seeing him when she got up, but there was something strange about him that caught her attention. His solid-black baseball cap was pulled down over his eyes, hiding the top half of his face. His long, blonde hair was tied back in a low bun at the nape of his neck, nestled right in the folds of his hoodie. He sat perfectly still, almost statuesque, coming across as oddly suspicious with nothing in front of him—not even a cup of coffee or glass of water.
She found her spot back in her booth, but when she searched for him again, he was gone. It had only been seconds since she sat down, yet it seemed as though he vanished out of thin air.
About an hour after she arrived, Lilith stepped out of the diner slightly more caffeinated and made her way across the gravel lot. The small rocks crunched beneath her feet and when she was halfway to her car, she heard a male voice.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
Lilith stopped and turned on her heels to see Dale standing about ten feet behind her. She gave him a surprised and expectant look, making him shift uncomfortably on his feet and cough, “About the deer...”
Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she responded, “Yes?”
“Isn’t that what you’re here for?”
She didn’t want to show her hand just yet, but this was an opportunity she couldn’t afford to pass up. “Part of it. Why?”
He looked over his shoulder at the diner like he was gauging how much time he had before letting out a heavy sigh, “C’mon.”
She was suspicious about the sudden change of mind, but she followed him as he led her to an older pickup truck parked on the other side of the restaurant, tucked away by the dumpster. He popped open the tailgate of the old Chevy and the rusty metal squeaked on his hinges as it dropped down.
Lilith wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see. A dead deer, obviously. She’d seen enough roadkill and photos to know what one looks like. But this wasn’t like anything she imagined in her head.
The second the tailgate was lowered, she gasped at the sight of the grotesque corpse. It lay there on its side; one decaying, milky eyeball staring back at her. It reeked of death, but something about the cloudy, bulbous eye protruding out like that made her uneasy—like it was watching her.
It was bigger than she would’ve guessed, taking up half of the truck bed with a set of antlers impressive enough for any hunter to mount on a trophy wall. Its blood-stained muzzle hung open with a gray, lifeless tongue sticking out from its teeth like it screamed in agony during its final moments. What confused her was the animal’s contorted legs that were stiff and bent, locked in the position it died in.
“Is it frozen?” She asked, unsure about the nature of rigor mortis in animals.
He shook his head. “Hasn’t been cold enough for it to freeze like that.”
She swallowed back the queasiness bubbling up from her gut, grimacing from the foul stench. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from it. “And you don’t know how it died?”
“Not a clue. There’s no gunshot or arrow wounds.”
Her mind raced for possible explanations. She didn’t know the first thing about hunting or wild animals for that matter, and it was becoming clear that she was out of her wheelhouse. “Another animal?”
He shrugged before lifting the tailgate and locking it in place. “I guess it’s possible because of those bites on its neck.”
“Bear?”
“Ever heard of a bear not eating its kill?” He asked, leaning against the corner of the bed to pull out a rolled-up bag of chewing tobacco. Lilith stared at him blankly, making him huff a tired laugh. “Besides, bears tend to make a pretty bloody scene, and they don’t really go after grown bucks like that one.”
“They don’t?”
It was the question that made him suddenly grow weary and eye her down. “What kind of reporter did you say you were?” But before she could answer, the sounds of his hunting buddies echoed around the corner. “Better get outta here before they raise hell.”
She didn’t need to be told twice and scurried backward, away from the truck. “Thanks for, uh…showing me.”
“Keep your head on a swivel, Miss.” He dug into the half-empty back of the chew, getting a pinch full to stick inside his bottom lip. “You never know what’s out there.”
Lilith thought she’d pass some time in the used bookstore until she figured out what her next move was, maybe even find some reading material when she was tired of obsessing over her work. It was another place that announced her presence with the chime of a little bell attached to the door. She walked past the tall carousel of gift cards displayed near the entrance, anticipating that someone would greet her any second, but no one walked out.
There was a quiet, deathly stillness like the place was frozen in time. The air was so stagnant that she could see the dust motes floating around and that sweet, musty smell of old paperbacks filled her nose with every deep inhale. Lit only by whatever daylight came through the front windows, the dark shop seemed empty. Assuming that the employee working must be in the back somewhere, she started perusing the aisles.
The hardwood hidden by tattered rugs with electrical cords duct taped to them creaked and groaned beneath her feet. She pulled books out randomly from the shelves, and flipped through the aging, yellowed pages, thinking about how a place like this could have been a refuge at one point in time— an escape from reality for her when she was younger.
But even here, she still couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that she was being watched. It was probably leftover anxiety from seeing that dead animal—her paranoid mind playing tricks on her and causing her to see moving shadows out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she wasn’t going to deny that there was more to this town than what it showed on the surface.
“You must be that young reporter.” A voice croaked out from behind her.
“Oh, Jesus!” Lilith gasped, nearly dropping the book in her hands. She whipped around and stared into the shadows, spotting an elderly woman leering around the corner of a bookshelf. Lilith stuffed the forgotten novel back in its place, laughing nervously, “I see word gets around fast here.”
“Nothing happens in this town without me knowing about it,” the woman declared cryptically before shuffling off out of sight.
It was weirdly ominous, and Lilith knew she should take the creepy behavior from a stranger as a sign to hightail out of there. She ignored her instincts and ended up following the old woman, plucking another random paperback from one of the shelves to purchase.
The woman was feeble, shaking with each weak step assisted by her cane, and at an age that made Lilith wonder if she should be running the store alone. Her thin, snow-white hair was pulled back and secured with an ornate pin, but loose, frizzy strands framed her wrinkled face. Her heavy jowls pulled her papery lips into a permanent scowl, making her appear more frightening than friendly.
Lilith swallowed, approaching the cluttered counter. “Maybe you can help me then.”
The woman scoffed with a disapproving shake of her head, “Those secrets can’t be told in your little newspaper.”
Lilith’s brows knit together as she studied the woman suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?”
She rested her cane on the counter’s edge and waved her arthritic hand at her impatiently. “It means they aren’t my secrets to tell.” As Lilith handed over the book, the woman’s icy eyes bore right into her, scolding her with a look as much as her words did. “And you should stop asking before you get yourself into trouble.”
“I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I did that,” she retorted passive-aggressively, adding to the tension that made it hard to breathe in here. She stood there awkwardly, waiting as the woman scribbled something onto a piece of paper before ringing her up. When she saw her place a second book in the bag, she made the mistake of correcting her, “Oh no, just the one book, actually.”
The glare she received from the old woman made her regret saying anything at all. It’s a shock this place isn’t packed. The entire interaction made her skin crawl, and as soon as she paid in cash and had the books she didn’t even want to begin with, she bolted out of there before the unnerving woman could utter another word.
She scurried down the sidewalk and jaywalked across the street to her car parked on the opposite side a block down from the bookstore. She couldn’t get into her car fast enough, tossing the plastic bag of books into the passenger seat as soon as she opened the door.
There was something about it all. Before she realized it, she was reaching for the bag and looking inside. She huffed a laugh, thinking she spooked herself over the whole thing when she pulled out the second book. It was one of those town history books, the kind that was full of old sepia -toned photographs—the kind of thing tourists eat up. But something was sticking out of it.
Lilith opened the booklet, and a paper map dropped into her lap. Written in cursive on the attached Post-it note, it said,
If you want the answers you’re looking for
You’ll find them here.
She opened the map to find that the woman had drawn a small red circle in the middle of nowhere in the White Mountains. Based on the key, the location was about an hour from town.
“Fuckin’ weird,” Lilith blew out from her lips as she folded the map and stuck it back inside the book. There wasn’t anything solid to go on, and she didn’t exactly trust the old woman either. She could be sending Lilith on a wild goose chase for nothing.
It didn’t help that tendrils of self-doubt were creeping into her brain. She had been stonewalled all afternoon; every possible lead dead in the water before she had the chance to swim. Management from the local hospitals left her with more questions than answers, dodging her questions due to “policy procedures”, telling her that they were investigating the incidents of the missing blood units themselves.
The local police chief gave her a similar runaround. He boasted quite arrogantly that there hadn’t been a murder case in Kinsville in over forty years, going on to ramble that, “this was a small town where folks could leave their doors unlocked and feel safe”. It didn’t matter that Lilith showed him the stack of missing persons cases from her folder. He shrugged them off as inexperienced hikers lost in the woods or people going off the grid.
Unlike the Bangor and Portland publications, she was able to get a hold of the woman who runs the community newspaper. Unfortunately for Lilith, it ended up being a mind-numbing conversation of her droning on about upcoming events for nearly thirty minutes.
She scrubbed her hands down her face and sank deeper into the driver’s seat. Maybe her boss was right about this, and that she should check into her room and leave first thing in the morning empty-handed.
Her phone buzzed on her lap.
Carson.
She’d been ignoring his texts and calls all morning, but it was not like she was trying to avoid him.
He was the golden boy—the rising star of the office. Interning a year before her, he always seemed to be one step further in his career than her. Lilith was competitive, but his persistence and good nature eventually wore her down, and they still ended up hitting it off despite her inferiority complex.
Being one of the few people she’d call a friend, Carson treated her well. It helped that he was one of the more experienced lovers she’s had, having the ability to make her come on those particularly lonely nights when she needed it. He was a reliable journalist, responsible with his money, and irritatingly charming. With looks that would rival Superman’s handsomeness, he had that Clark Kent personality to boot. What she enjoyed the most about him was how he kept up with her intelligence and appreciated her wit when most found her off-putting once they got past her looks.
She knew he’d be that catalog-worthy, almost-too-perfect husband, that kind of man who could provide her a life most women dreamed of. She could picture it. The social events with her on his arm, the picturesque wedding filled with more people than she knew. But Lilith couldn’t commit to the promise no matter how much he chased her. She strung him along, giving him just enough to keep him invested and close.
She knew it was selfish. It was self-sabotaging to keep him at arm’s length for this long, putting walls up as she took everything he gave her while never expecting anything in return—like it was all a subconscious test to see how many of her faults he could deal with.
Maybe she did need a therapist.
She hit the button, brought the phone to her ear, and gave him a flat, “Hey.”
“Woof,” he laughed, the sound grating her foul mood. “That doesn’t sound good.”
She sighed, but her breath sounded shakier than she wanted as she forced herself not to cry.
He picked up on it because his energy changed as he took on a gentler tone, “That rough, huh?”
Lilith wouldn’t admit it. She hated how easily he comforted her when she struggled to say the right words, making her feel a little less alone in this crazy world, even over two hundred miles away. She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow in an effort to pull herself together. The bookstore was still in her sights from where she was parked on the street, and she couldn’t get rid of the feeling it gave her like it was an iron weight in her gut.
“I feel like I’m living in a fucking Stephen King novel,” she joked dryly. Which made him laugh again, though this time it was…weirdly grounding her. She thought to distract herself further and flipped the visor down to look in the tiny mirror.
Lilith has always been confident in her appearance. She wasn’t ignorant of the fact she was blessed with her mother’s high cheekbones and a defined jawline. Her hazel eyes complemented her natural red hair, a feature that has brought attention to her for as long as she could remember. She had a love-hate relationship with her fair complexion, and how the sun freckled her nose and cheeks during the summer months. The downside was that an obvious blush would show on her face whenever she felt the slightest bit of anger or embarrassment. But her lips were her favorite feature if she had to choose, even if she wished the bottom one matched the top in fullness.
She dug into her purse, pulling out a dark cherry lipstick and an eye pencil to touch up her makeup. The longer she stared at herself, the more she was confronted with the reality that she was approaching thirty. At twenty-seven, she could see the little fine lines trying to settle in around her eyes while she darkened her liner. And if she combed through her hair right now, she’s sure she could pick out the grays that have started to pop up recently.
“I’m serious, Carson. None of these people will talk to me.”
Before applying a fresh coat of lipstick, she picked at the pimple on her chin that would’ve strayed a small, red bump instead of the unsightly wound she created the night before. She smiled at herself to check if she got any of the color on her teeth, reminding herself that they weren’t as straight as the day she got her braces off senior year.
“What’d you expect, Lil? These are locals probably living with generational superstitions and folklore.” While always lending an ear when she needed one, he never pulled punches being honest with her, especially when it came to their work. “But I’m sure rolling up there as a city journalist didn’t help.”
“Oh, fuck off,” she laughed, working the color around her lips and flipped the visor up. She yelped, startled by a crow standing on the hood of her car. It cawed, screaming at her.
“You okay? What happened?” Carson asked, but she was frozen watching the black bird ruffle its oily, iridescent feathers and cock its head at her, staring for a few seconds before flying off.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she panted, catching her breath as her heart pounded. She thought about the dreams she’s been having lately, but she stopped herself from falling down that rabbit hole. She was a woman of sound, logical mind. It was her brain pulling from a memory of a scary movie she saw once— creating recurring nightmares fueled by stress in her life. As for the bird on top of her car, it meant nothing. Crows were one of the most common bird species in North America. It would be like being surprised to see seagulls at the beach.
She shook her head. “This town just gives me the fucking creeps.”
He coughed on the other end, hesitating for a moment before saying with a heavy sigh like he was about to deliver bad news, “Listen, Lils. I know you want to stay and see this through and all… but maybe there’s nothing there. Just a bunch of weird shit happening all at once.”
Her doubt was manifesting through another person, and he was dodging the fact her career might be on the line because of this. But they both knew she was stubborn to give up this easily. “You know I don’t buy coincidences.”
“I know.” He paused before showing his frustration with a huff, “It’s not that I don’t believe you…I just don’t want to see you throw away everything you’ve worked for chasing after ghost stories.”
Her focus shifted from the world outside her car to her cluttered passenger seat. On top of the folders and binders of research, there lay the book with that stupid map sticking out from its pages. The rational side of her was screaming every reason not to do this. Yet she found herself drawn to the idea, compelled to follow through with it. It would chew at her, gnaw its way into the forefront of her mind like a field mouse trying to find a warm place for winter.
“I still have one more lead,” she blurted out after pulling the map from the book.
“What’s that?”
“Um…” She chose to skip over the questionable parts of the story, “This woman working in the bookstore gave me a map.”
“For?” She could already hear the skepticism.
“I don’t know…” she confessed quietly, studying the paper in her hands. “It’s a Maine map though, and where she’s circled doesn’t seem that far from here.”
He responded with a disapproving hum, “I don’t know, Lils. Is that really a good idea? You’re already up there by yourself.”
She blew a scoff through loose lips, “I live alone, Carson. I can handle myself.”
“This is different. You don’t know anyone up there,” his voice was stern, but he maintained its usual softness. He had learned the more he combatted Lilith’s defiance, the more she rebelled against him.
She didn’t want to admit that he might be the voice of reason. “I have my pepper spray. I’ll be fine.”
“Lilith.” He never called her by her full name knowing how much she hated it.
“Carson,” she snipped back.
“Can it at least wait until morning?”
“What else am I gonna do? Rot in a shitty motel room all night?”
Like one from a disappointed parent, his sigh crackled through the phone. “Just be safe, okay? Drive slow and please text me when you get there if you have cell service.”
“Yes, Dad.” She rolled her eyes, mocking him, but deep down she was grateful that someone cared enough to look after her—even if it smothered her.
He chuckled, letting her snarky jab roll off him. “Love you, Lils. Don’t forget to call me when you get back to your room tonight.”
She winced, but hummed awkwardly, creating dead air between them. She’s never said it back—not once in the five years they’ve known each other. Every time he said the words, they would twist a knot in her gut. “I’ll call. I promise.”
As soon as they said their goodbyes, and there wasn’t a familiar voice to distract her anymore, the gravity of her choice dropped down on her. Within the hour, it would be dusk, and she’d be truly alone.
By the time Lilith filled up the tank and made it past the town limits of Kinsville, the night was starting to fall over the horizon. The mountain road she was driving on was winding, full of unpredictable twists and turns that were swallowed up by the shadows of trees as it led her to nowhere. Without the help of the GPS, she relied solely on a paper map. It felt barbaric.
The engine had been idling for nearly ten minutes as she chewed on her bottom lip. She stared at the map that had been refolded at least a dozen times under the glow of her car’s dome light, tracing the road lines that led to the red ink circle. She glanced up once more, looking at the unmarked dirt road. If she hadn’t been paying attention, she would’ve passed it completely.
“Fuck it,” she muttered to herself, shutting off the light before shifting from park into drive. She took the car off the paved road onto the dirt path at a crawling pace for at least a half mile with nothing but her headlights to guide her until she pulled up to a massive metal gate. She narrowed her eyes, peering out of her windshield. “What the fuck?”
She stepped out of the safe warmth of her vehicle into the chilled autumn air, causing a violent shiver to roll through her. The wrought iron twisted into ornate designs spoke from a different time. Beautiful, but threatening.
She walked over to the gate’s call box, which also appeared outdated, and pressed the button. It beeped and the display screen came to life, glowing a vibrant green, but she received nothing but a dial tone in return. The fact there was electricity running through it at all shocked her.
The lack of rust and overall decay led her to believe the property was well-maintained—that somebody was there. She wasn’t sure where she was, or why she was even here, but she pushed it once more and spoke clearly into the receiver, “Hello?”
Nothing.
She punched all the numbers—every button on the call box with no further luck. Frustrated, she threw up her hands and walked over to the gate, giving it a testing push. To her surprise, it was unlocked and swung open just enough for her to fit through.
Lilith hesitated for a few seconds, debating whether being arrested for trespassing was worth the risk. She rushed back to her car, killed the engine, and grabbed the flashlight from her backseat before slipping through the small opening.
The path beyond the gate was paved cobblestone. She shivered as the wind bit right through her leather coat, whipping through the pines and swallowing her in white noise. All traces of the sun were long gone, but she could still see the silhouette of a structure against the moonlit sky. The closer she got, the more she realized its immense size. She tightened her grip on her flashlight wishing Carson was here with her.
She could make out the outlines of spires and the steep pitch of the roof. The massive building resembled a castle more than a house—a ridiculous idea she shook from her head. Not a single light shone from the inside as if it was in deep slumber, and for a moment, she swore the wood and iron breathed.
Standing before the grandiose stone stairs, she trembled in its sinister presence. Her stomach was twisted tighter than a sailor’s knot, and a part of her wanted to bail out of this stupid idea, but her investigative nature pulled her right along. She knew she was the farthest thing from an urban explorer, and every step she took felt heavier than the last.
Guided by the beam of her flashlight, she inspected the place searching for a sign of human life, and found not a single crumbled brick or broken window. Just like the front gate, the building itself was well-maintained for as old as it seemed. She instantly recognized the Victorian architecture growing up in New England all her life.
She whistled softly to herself, thinking that whoever owned it must have money to spend to restore a historic building like this. Perhaps the observation was a last-ditch effort to ignore the overwhelming sense of dread hovering over her. She heard a twig snap and fear flooded in as she stared blindly into the darkness behind her. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and the feeling she was being watched was stronger than ever.
“Get it together,” she told herself, walking up to the door. The casted door knocker mounted to it made it even more imposing. Acting on ignorant courage alone, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the handle to rap against the metal.
The sound it made was louder than she expected, making her jump back as if she’d been electrocuted. Her flight activated, making her instantly regret the decision as the sinking feeling of anxiety ravaged her, and she stumbled away from the door.
But it was too late.
Lilith screamed when she was grabbed from behind and smothered by a damp cloth stuffed into her mouth and nose. She kicked and thrashed her limbs against the unknown force binding her, clawing for their face as she choked on the pungent, sickeningly sweet chemical odor for a desperate breath of air. Her brain misfired signals of panic as she suffocated and gagged on the rag, and the harder she fought, the weaker she became, and one by one, her senses began to fail.
She eventually went limp in the attacker’s arms, accepting her fate as consciousness slipped away from her.