Page 15 of Hallowed & Haunted
“What?”
“Come on, Vars. You show up with professional camping gear like you planned this. Henrik brings this farm up, and you know conveniently where to find it.” Sander’s breath comes faster, visible puffs in the cold air. “You orchestrate the whole thing, sit back, and watch me make a fool of myself. Well, congratulations, you got what you wanted.”
The accusation makes Niillas bare his teeth. Only minutes ago, Sander was sitting by the fire, wearing Niillas’ flannel and listening to his words.
“You think I attended this silly party to play some fucking mind games?” Niillas still can’t fathom where this whole conversation went wrong. “You think I’ve agreed to this dare for Henrik’s entertainment?”
“I don’t know what to think!” Sander gestures sharply, making his shirt ride up, and a sliver of skin flashes at his hip that steals Niillas’ breath, no matter the circumstances. “All I know is you’re acting like you know something I don’t, and I’m sick of being treated like an idiot.”
The footsteps above them resume, deliberate and heavy. Something drags across the ceiling with a sound like fingernails on wood.
Sander’s eyes snap upward, and for a moment his mask slips entirely. Niillas sees raw fear flicker across his features, quickly smothered by stubborn pride.
“Fine,” Sander says, voice pitched higher than usual. “You want to sit here playing mysterious? I’ll go upstairs and give Henrik a piece of my mind.”
He strides toward the door before Niillas can protest.
“Don’t.” Niillas is on his feet instantly, moving to block Sander’s path. “Whatever’s up there—”
“Oh, spare me.” Sander sidesteps him with the flowing grace he normally uses on the ice rink, already reaching for the chair barricading the door. “I swear if I find Henrik and Lars up there, waiting for the perfect moment to jump out and scare me, I’m going to kill them.”
Panic floods Niillas’ veins. The scent from outside is growing stronger, seeping through the broken windows like fog. And upstairs, something that definitely isn’t Henrik shifts across the floorboards with predatory patience.
“Sander, no.”
But Sander has already pulled the chair away and wrapped his fingers around the door handle. The defiant tilt of his chin, the way the firelight catches in his light strands and makes them take on a fiery red hue, is intoxicating. Even terrified and furious, he’s beautiful. Beautiful and utterly reckless and probably about to get himself seriously hurt.
“You don’t give me orders,” Sander spits. “I’m the captain, remember?”
The door swings open with an ominous groan, and Sander disappears into the dark hallway before Niillas can decide if he’s ready to resort to physical force to hold Sander back. His footsteps echo from the old walls, quick and determined.
“Sander!” Niillas lunges after him, but something slams the door shut between them with enough force to rattle the entire frame.
Fuck.
The handle won’t turn, and the door groans as Niillas throws his weight against it. But the old wooden door holds fast as if sealed by more than just a stuck lock.
From upstairs carries the sound of Sander’s voice, muffled but audible: “Henrik? Very funny, you asshole. Come out and—”
His words cut off abruptly, and Niillas’ blood turns to ice. He takes a quick glance at his watch. Midnight is approaching. The witching hour, when the veil grows thinnest and old hungers wake.
The house settles around him with a satisfied sigh, as if it’s been waiting for this moment. Waiting to separate them.
Fuckfuckfuck.
Niillas steps back, bracing himself. His bones itch with the need to shed his skin, to become something large enough and strong enough to tear this cursed place apart board by board if that’s what it takes to reach Sander.
But first, he has to get through the door.
And then he needs to find Sander.
Whatever the cost.
Whatever Sander might think of him.
Chapter 5
Sander