Page 85

“Kincaid,” I cry out, my voice hoarse.

The sound of the salon doors swinging open.

“Sydney,” he cries out, and then he’s wrapping his arms around me, pulling me to my feet.

I collapse into his arms. “Oh god. It was awful.”

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he says, running his hands down my arms. “Your skin is ice cold. What happened?” He pulls a few leaves from my hair and stares at them in amazement.

“Didn’t you hear me scream?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Come, let’s go inside, I’ll make you a tea.”

I nod as he leads me over to the doors and helps me down the steps. He grabs a blanket and puts it over my shoulders, then sits me down on the couch.

“What happened?” he asks again, going to the sink and filling the kettle with water. The boat’s cozy low lighting and the warmth from the heater is already making my heart slow, the fear seeming further away. I have to look down at my nails, at the dirt embedded in them, to remember what happened was real.

Itwasreal, wasn’t it?

I take in a deep breath, slowly exhaling before I start. “I woke up in the forest. I have no idea how I got there. I went to bed early after I packed for the camping trip and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the forest floor.”

He pauses. “I see.” He puts the kettle on the stove. “And then what happened? You said you screamed.”

“I got up and saw the light from the lodge, tried to find my way out when I…” I decide not to tell him about the wind and the trees whispering my name.

Telling me I was home.

“Yes?” he prods, lighting the stove and coming back to sit across from me, hand on my knee. “What?”

“I fell into a grave. That dog’s grave that Lauren and I discovered. Grover. It was covered in the glowing mushrooms. It was empty, like someone had dug it up or…whatever was buried had crawled out.”

If it was even dog, I think. I know I heard a growl of something behind me, but that could have been anything.

Anyone.

Oh god.

I look at Kincaid fearfully. “I know you must think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t,” he says but he’s frowning, breathing in deeply through his nose. “I’m just trying to tackle this one step at a time. The first and most important thing is figuring out how you woke up in the forest.”

I nod. “Yes. Exactly. So how did that happen?”

“If only I still had cameras in your room, we could see for ourselves,” he says quietly. God, he’s right. Maybe he should put them back. “But we can only speculate. Do you have a history of sleepwalking?”

“When I was younger.”

“Just like your nosebleeds.” I nod. “Have you had any more?”

I think about when Amani had hit me in the face with a snowball. Had the snow cut me or was my nose bleeding?

“I’m not sure.”

His brows knit together. “You’re not sure?”

“Maybe. I was hit in the face with a snowball. It’s hard to say if the ice cut me or not.”

He blinks slowly, then sits up straight. “A…what? A snowball?”