Page 32 of Half the Summer's Night

Then something sparks in the distance. But it’s not my quarry. It can’t be. Because they disappeared into the open field, and this is coming behind me. It’s coming from?—

From Abi’s house.

I whirl around, a thick, black dread coiling in my stomach. And I realize thiscan’tbe the presence I was tracking. Because it’s human, undeniably so.

But that humanity is wrapped up in cold, terrible malevolence. Anger. A propensity for violence. I’d recognize it anywhere because for ten years these were the kinds of humans I was always killing for Uncle Nash.

And I realize, with a thud of despair, that I’ve completely fucked up.

Whoever I was chasing isn't Olivia Pearce’s killer.

This is.

And he’s at Abi’s house.

12

ABI

“Truth or dare,” Chloe announces. “Penelope.”

“I’m not fucking doing this.” Penelope leans back, shaking her head. “We are grown women.”

“Fine. Abi. Truth or dare.”

I take a sip of my wine before answering. My two best friends aren’t herewithme, technically, but at last I can see both of their faces blinking up from their computer screens. Chloe’s out on her apartment balcony, so all I can see is her face lit up by the sallow overhead light. Not that it’s going to be her apartment for long, since she’s apparently going to move into that Appalachian lake house her grandparents left her. It’s dark where she is, too, in North Carolina. All I can see of Penelope’s background is a plain white wall. She’s staying with her sister right now, she said when we first hopped on the call. In Chicago.

“Come onnnnn,” Chloe whines. “Truth or dare. I want to play.”

“Why?” Penelope asks. “We fucking know all of each other’s secrets.”

Chloe groans, and I laugh.

“She’s right,” I say. “She’s got you.”

“You twosuck,” she says. “Okay, how about a drinking game? I’ve got a bottle of gin here, and I want to drink it.” She leans forward, tapping on her keyboard. “I bet I can find something online.”

“So drink your gin,” Penelope says. “No one’s stopping you.”

“You are so boring, Penny.” The light from Chloe’s laptop changes, illuminating her face as she squints at her screen. “It’d be like when we played D and D in the dorms, remember? Take a drink anytime someone rolls a crit.”

“We’re not playing D and D,” I point out. “Although I guess we could.”

“Do not give her any ideas.” Penelope sucks on her vape pen, pale mist filling up her screen. “What do you want to do, Abs?”

“I don’t need to play a drinking game, that’s for damn sure.” I’ve already had nearly half a bottle of this sweet red grocery store wine, plus the joint I smoked earlier. The world feels heady and bright and a much better place than it was before Chloe and Penelope and I got on this call together.

I know why Penelope’s asking me, though. This call is for me. A distraction from everything.

“What if we watch a movie?” Chloe’s still tapping on her laptop. “I can start a watch party or something.”

“Let me guess,” Penelope says. “We watchFriday the 13thand drink every time there’s a kill on screen?”

“No.” Chloe grins. “We watch my giallo marathon and drink every time there’s a boob on screen.”

Given the overly potent combo of weed and wine, this is legitimately the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while, and I dissolve into hysterical laughter, which sets Chloe off, too. Penelope’s too cool for it, and she just sucks on her vape pen and stares at her screen with an amused sparkle in her eye.

I wish they were here, for real, the three of us sprawled out in my living room like we used to do our final year at college, whenwe shared a duplex a few blocks from campus.I should move, I think blearily, although I don’t know where. To middle-of-nowhere North Carolina, with Chloe? It’s not like Penelope stays put, really. She’s always moving around, chasing causes. Living in hostels or couch-surfing.