Awaken the Soul (Havenwood Falls High)(4)

I went for a run. I . . . Tears prick my eyes.

A dark flash hurtles at me. Pain. Blood. My throat closes. No. It was a dream. A nightmare.

Hurrying from my room, I search for my clothing. My jacket, pants, shoes, any of the gear I normally wear running. I flip on lights, search closets, the hampers, the washing machine. My heart plays the beat of a thousand drums.

A low, animalistic snarl fills my ears. A cool touch. An urgent voice. My knees give way, and I crumble to the floor, dizzy and spent. Why can’t I remember anything? What am I missing? Nothing is right. I crawl to the couch and pull myself up, drawing a throw over my body. I need sleep. Maybe I am getting sick.

The view from the couch to my bedroom window is unhindered, and there—beside the pine outside my building—is a shadow.

My eyelids grow heavy as I peer across the apartment. A shadow in the form of a human.

I pry my eyes wider, my temples pounding. A shadow with amber eyes.

I should be scared by a shadow outside my window in the middle of the night. I should call 911, I should scream, but I don’t. I’m not afraid. My mind calms as my frantic heart settles. With one last sleepy effort, I search out the shadow, catching a wavering glimpse before everything falls dark.



“You’re bloody crazy, Viv.” Zara blows into her cupped hands as she shifts from foot to foot.

“Are you being British again?” I laugh as I walk the steps from my window to the pine for the third time. My gaze searches the ground for something—anything—that proves someone stood out here last night. “Which Austen movie did you watch yesterday?”

“It wasn’t Austen. It was a documentary on the royal family. It was brilliant.”

“You’re mad.” Though I’m teasing, I can’t help but go into character and pull out my British slang.

“Well done.” Zara’s tone and accent come out a bit Mary Poppins. Her fascination with British culture knows no end. We’ve spent thousands of hours watching, listening to, and studying British entertainment. “But, I would argue I am not the one here who is insane, my dear Viv.”

“I know what I saw. Someone was out here last night.”

“And in your apartment, stealing your clothes?” She steps into the snow and works her way to my side. “There is nothing here. Even if you did have a Peeping Tom, there would be no evidence. It snowed all night. You’re not going to find a fresh set of footprints. You’ve watched too many crime shows.”

Why did I bother telling her?

Zara tugs her knit hat over her ears, smooshing down her thick, dark hair. “Can we go inside? I’m freezing and you don’t have a jacket on.”

“That’s because I can’t find my jacket,” I remind her.

“Did you tell your mum?”

Grabbing her arm, I lead her toward the apartment. “Tell her what? That someone robbed me of my running gear? That I’m seeing things?”

I’m positive something happened yesterday. Something bad. Something dangerous. I rack my brain for any semblance of what it could have been.

A smattering of needles prick across my shoulders, and I pause, my gaze scanning the parking lot, looking for something, sensing it. Other than the kids building a snowman by the building across from mine, the complex is quiet.

“Mom’s already giving me a hard time about running alone since Heidi went missing. If I alert her to anything out of the ordinary, she’ll start making me spend all my free time at the medical center with her.”

“Good point.” Zara weaves her arm beneath mine. “Let’s go. We can drive over to Backwoods and buy you a new coat before the movie.”



“This is not how I intended spending the last of my birthday money,” I complain as I dig for my wallet and hand most of my cash to Willa Kasun, who smiles sympathetically from behind the register.

“The fact that you still have birthday money from last April is telling, my friend,” Zara, the spendthrift, says with a shake of her head.

The snap of a shopping bag opening draws me from my pouting. “Oh, actually, can you remove the tags so I can wear it?” Willa’s dark brow arches. “I lost mine, and it’s a bit chilly out there without one.”

Zara nudges my shoulder, an inelegant snort jerking her shoulders. “She’s so daft. She’d misplace her arse if it weren’t attached.”

Daft? I mouth, giving my so-called best friend a fixed look.

Willa’s lips twitch as she pulls out a pair of scissors, cuts the tags, and slides my new jacket across the counter with the receipt on top.

“Thanks. See ya.” I toss a wave as she gives me her canned “Thanks for shopping at Backwoods Sport & Ski.”

Shoving Zara toward the exit, I hiss, “Way to go, Z. She probably thinks I’m a complete idiot.”

Zara giggles and stops at a sunglass display. She slides a gaudy red and gold pair on and poses. “Whatever. No one thinks you’re an idiot. We go to the same school; she knows you’re Ms. Academia. Plus, she shared a womb with Kase. She most certainly knows an idiot when she sees one.”

“Oh my gosh, shut up.” I swallow back a giggle and search the immediate area, clamping down on her arm. The Kasuns own this store. Their dad is sheriff, their older brothers are deputies, and Kase—while not the sharpest pencil in the box—is well-known and well-liked. “Besides, I know for a fact you’re smitten with him.”