13 In the Dark

Trotting alongside the wide street, my heart speeds up. But I lick my lips nervously. I'm half-giddy at the thought of Aiden's power, half-terrified I'll be sacrificed to Satan. But the other half of me . . . that half can't wait to find him.

A block down the street, away from my car, I come to a huge warehouse with a caved-in roof. Teeth of broken wood stretch for the stars beginning to peek out of the night sky. There's no glass in the windows, and when I get close, I can smell cold soot.

I'm reminded of my fear of being sacrificed and have to stifle a frightened giggle.

Wary, I stick to the side of the old warehouse, let my feet crunch on pebbles and broken glass, until I make it to the beach side where the wind has piled the dunes up against the old timbers. From there I peek around the corner of the building, then freeze.

A hundred yards down on the hard sand near the water, the bonfire rises, eating at the dark and sending sparks drifting into the clouds. The burned and blackened dock stretches behind it, two long rows of tall fingers rising out of the waves and crossing the sand, right up to the street.

Where the old dock towers over the sand, the hot glow of fire casts shifting shadows from dozens of bodies. Laughing, singing, shrieking bodies.

Clearly not sober bodies.

It hits me that I haven't thought this through at all. This isn't a gathering of friends to channel a mysterious power. It's a party.

I'd bet my house there's drugs out there.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. My nostrils flare like a wolf on a scent.

No. No, no, no.

I can't hunt for Aiden around these people—can't be near what they've got. I won't be able to say no.

It's a do-or-die moment. All my therapists talk about them. How none of us get through sobriety without a few crossroads—moments we don't expect where our greatest desire is thrown at our feet.

It's a test. And there's only one way to pass.

So, despite everything in my body screaming for me to run to the fire, the crowd, the drugs, I clench my hands to fists, breathe through the fear, and turn on my heel.

I'm out of here. Except I'm not moving. I half-turn back to the bonfire.

Don't do it. Grit your teeth and go home. It'll be boring, and it'll suck. But at least you won't hate yourself in the morning.

Go. Home.

Now.

Turn on a heel. One foot in the front of the other, slowly—too slowly—I make my way back onto the path between the building and the fence, and head towards my car.

I'm so busy gripping my hands and muttering to myself to go home, that I shriek when a man-shaped shadow suddenly separates itself from the side of the warehouse and steps toward me.

"Sheesh, Kate. You're a jumpy one, aren't you?"

"Aiden?" I shouldn't feel relieved.

He's dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that are dark enough to disembody his head and the portions of his skin that aren't tattooed in the tar-black of the shadows. Then his eyes flash, pinpoints of light to break the blanket of midnight. He keeps coming until he's a few feet away from me, then stops, hands in his pockets.

"You came," he says happily.

"Yes. But I can't be here. I'm leaving." If I can get my feet to move.

Aiden takes a quick step closer. "Wait, why?"

"I didn't realize . . . this is a party. People are high, or drunk, or whatever. And I can't be around that." Then my brain catalogs all the places he could be holding pills and I suck in a breath. "I have to go."

"Kate, wait—" He fills the path with his shoulders and his piercing eyes.

"Let me go." I say it around gritted teeth.

Aiden jerks, his hands come out of his pockets, palms to me. "No one's stopping you, Kate."

I glare. Not true. He's standing in my way.

"To be clear, though, I don't want you to leave," he adds softly.

My heart thumps and I snap with frustration. "Why? Why follow me around? Why help me? Why tell me to come here? What is going on, Aiden?"

"Hey, hey . . ." Aiden steps closer again and now I could touch him if I stretched. "It's all the same answer: Because you belong here. And I don't meet many people like that, so I'm a little . . . enthusiastic," he grins. The light in his eyes flashes.

Something inside me swells. "No, I don't."

"Then why did you come?"

Because my parents love my sister more than they love me. Because I disappoint them. Because they disappoint me. And the sick feeling that gives me won't leave me alone. So I need something to replace it.

But what I say is, "Curiosity."

Aiden nods. "So, stick around. No one will stop you leaving whenever you want to. And I promise you, there's no drugs out there."

I hack a laugh. "This isn't my first rodeo, Aiden. Those people are high."

Aiden smirks. "You know, it's refreshing to talk to someone who isn't scared to argue with me."

"I don't—"

"Kate, they aren't high. Or drunk. No substances of any kind. They're Spellbound."

I was about to ask him why people wouldn't argue with him. But his voice when he says that word is so rich with meaning it derails me.

"What's Spellbound?"

Aiden looks over my shoulder, towards the water. "How about we sit up here together? We'll stay away from the fire. We can talk. You can ask me all those questions banging around in your head. And I can convince you I won't get you high. Not like that, anyway." He says it all with a smile, but his voice walks a knife-edge that flashes in his eyes.

Like it bothers him that I'm scared.