neighbor’s yard threw
Edward Scissorhands
–style shadows across the concrete as she made her way along the path. Nash would say that she was being completely irrational and probably passive-aggressive to dump the articles her mom had left for her, but all Cassidy knew was that it also made her feel as if she had some small sliver of control. Plus, it would totally piss off her mom when she found out.
Cassidy grinned some more as she emptied the papers into the recycling bin. She had just flicked the lid shut and was about to open up the gate to drag the bin to the street when she heard a scratching noise from somewhere behind her. Her excitement at defying her mom disappeared as the hairs on her arms stood up, and fine tendrils of fear clutched at her heart. It was the same feeling that she’d had several times during the last two days. The feeling that someone was watching her.
Part of her wanted to believe it was because tomorrow was Halloween. But the other part of her—the part that her brain seemed to be listening to—wasn’t so sure.
This time the scratching was louder, and Cassidy unconsciously edged away from it. In the process she managed to stumble back into the bin; she watched in dismay as it fell to the ground with a thud, spilling plastic bottles and papers out onto the path in front of her. She ignored the mess, her breath catching in her throat. But apart from a soft breeze that was blowing against the surrounding trees, there was no sign of anything and—
Whatever Cassidy was about to think next disappeared from her mind as a violent flap of wings sounded in her ears and she looked up to see an enormous bird on one of the lower branches of a nearby tree. Its wings were spread out in an eerie silhouette against the crescent moon as it turned its pale heart-shaped face toward her. Inspecting her with a pair of dark, swirling eyes that sat above its noselike beak.
Cassidy shuddered as a single feather leisurely floated down to the ground. It was almost identical to the feather that had fallen into her lap the previous day, and Cassidy found herself helplessly following its progress until it finally landed just by her scuffed-up Docs.
Two feathers? The hypnotic amber eyes that she kept thinking were watching her? She wasn’t a genius like Nash, but she knew all these things had to mean something. It’s just that she had no idea what, and despite the fact that every single nerve in her body was screaming at her to go inside, she looked back up into the tree.
The owl spread out its wings and pushed its talons against the gnarled branch, and for one awful second Cassidy thought it was going to launch itself at her. But instead it sprang off the branch and glided down to the other end of the path, effectively blocking her path.
For a moment it just stood there, feathers shimmering and glowing in front of her very eyes; before Cassidy quite knew what was happening, the owl was gone and in its place was a body. A person.
A guy.
Cassidy was past screaming. She was past thinking. She was past taking any kind of action. All she could do was stand there and stare helplessly at the figure in front of her. He looked about her age, perhaps a year or so older, and his dark hair was cropped close to his head. His strong brow was knit in powerful concentration, and he was dressed in a coarse, collarless shirt, which reached well below his thighs and was ripped and stained.
As he walked toward her, she could clearly see a jagged, angry scar running down one side of his face. It was brutal, but then as he got closer, she discovered that even more compelling than the horrendous scar were his eyes. One was the palest of blues and the other a swirling brown color, and they were staring at her with such intensity that Cassidy felt incapable of looking away.
Then he spoke. “My name is Thomas de la Croix, and we don’t have much time.”
That was when she finally started to scream.
SEVEN
C assidy clamped a
Edward Scissorhands
–style shadows across the concrete as she made her way along the path. Nash would say that she was being completely irrational and probably passive-aggressive to dump the articles her mom had left for her, but all Cassidy knew was that it also made her feel as if she had some small sliver of control. Plus, it would totally piss off her mom when she found out.
Cassidy grinned some more as she emptied the papers into the recycling bin. She had just flicked the lid shut and was about to open up the gate to drag the bin to the street when she heard a scratching noise from somewhere behind her. Her excitement at defying her mom disappeared as the hairs on her arms stood up, and fine tendrils of fear clutched at her heart. It was the same feeling that she’d had several times during the last two days. The feeling that someone was watching her.
Part of her wanted to believe it was because tomorrow was Halloween. But the other part of her—the part that her brain seemed to be listening to—wasn’t so sure.
This time the scratching was louder, and Cassidy unconsciously edged away from it. In the process she managed to stumble back into the bin; she watched in dismay as it fell to the ground with a thud, spilling plastic bottles and papers out onto the path in front of her. She ignored the mess, her breath catching in her throat. But apart from a soft breeze that was blowing against the surrounding trees, there was no sign of anything and—
Whatever Cassidy was about to think next disappeared from her mind as a violent flap of wings sounded in her ears and she looked up to see an enormous bird on one of the lower branches of a nearby tree. Its wings were spread out in an eerie silhouette against the crescent moon as it turned its pale heart-shaped face toward her. Inspecting her with a pair of dark, swirling eyes that sat above its noselike beak.
Cassidy shuddered as a single feather leisurely floated down to the ground. It was almost identical to the feather that had fallen into her lap the previous day, and Cassidy found herself helplessly following its progress until it finally landed just by her scuffed-up Docs.
Two feathers? The hypnotic amber eyes that she kept thinking were watching her? She wasn’t a genius like Nash, but she knew all these things had to mean something. It’s just that she had no idea what, and despite the fact that every single nerve in her body was screaming at her to go inside, she looked back up into the tree.
The owl spread out its wings and pushed its talons against the gnarled branch, and for one awful second Cassidy thought it was going to launch itself at her. But instead it sprang off the branch and glided down to the other end of the path, effectively blocking her path.
For a moment it just stood there, feathers shimmering and glowing in front of her very eyes; before Cassidy quite knew what was happening, the owl was gone and in its place was a body. A person.
A guy.
Cassidy was past screaming. She was past thinking. She was past taking any kind of action. All she could do was stand there and stare helplessly at the figure in front of her. He looked about her age, perhaps a year or so older, and his dark hair was cropped close to his head. His strong brow was knit in powerful concentration, and he was dressed in a coarse, collarless shirt, which reached well below his thighs and was ripped and stained.
As he walked toward her, she could clearly see a jagged, angry scar running down one side of his face. It was brutal, but then as he got closer, she discovered that even more compelling than the horrendous scar were his eyes. One was the palest of blues and the other a swirling brown color, and they were staring at her with such intensity that Cassidy felt incapable of looking away.
Then he spoke. “My name is Thomas de la Croix, and we don’t have much time.”
That was when she finally started to scream.
SEVEN
C assidy clamped a
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