Page 109 of Horror and Chill

“Shit, what the hell happened, and why are you wet and smelling like coffee and caramel?” Corwin asks.

“Two guys cornered me in the alley and threw coffee on me because, apparently, they think they have opinions about my life,” I say, voice shaking but getting steadier with each breath I take.

“I’ll kill them,” Garron says, his voice a flat promise.

“You can’t,” Evander says.

“Yes, I can,” he retorts.

“Not in public, with witnesses. Plus, it’s still daylight,” I reason with him on his level.

“Why were you in the alley, Little Horror?” Evander asks.

“One of my father’s friends was talking to Christine as I was coming out. He nodded my way, and I panicked and bolted,” I explain.

Garron jerks his head toward the diner window. “Look.”

Two men are stepping out of the alley and heading toward the pizzeria door.

I hear the click of a phone camera and look toward Evander with a brow raised.

He laughs. “Easier to track them down and find out who they are if we have a face and a name.”

I curlup on the couch in a pair of joggers and an old tank, half a cup of cold coffee forgotten on the table, watching aCharmedrerun. Prue is snapping at her sisters, and the background noise is more comforting than I care to admit. The house feels too quiet, like the air itself knows something I don’t. Yesterday was… a lot. Seeing my parents, the church, running into classmates. I’m glad that today we’re doing nothing.

I reach for the mug on the table, curling my fingers around the warmth. A sudden alarm from the TV makes me jolt so hard I almost drop it;Emergency news alert.I grip the remote tighter as the screen shifts. The local station. Sheriff Meyers stands in front of yellow tape, his hat too big, his voice too steady.

My stomach drops when the photo box in the corner flashes two faces I know. Devon and Darron Highland. The assholes from the alley.

The anchor’s voice carries over the scene. “This morning, a friend of the Highland brothers arrived to hitch a ride to church and found the front door open. Inside, she discovered a horrific scene.”

The screen cuts to Christine. She’s crying, blotchy, with makeup streaked down her cheeks. “They always locked the door. No way it would be left open like that. So I went inside and…and…God.” She gags and covers her mouth. “Darron’s tongue wasn’t in his mouth. It was on the floor next to him. And Devon…he had a camera lens shoved into his eye socket. One of those big fancy one’s wedding photographers use. Who would do something like this here?”

Her sobs fill the TV until the camera swings back to the sheriff. He’s pale but holding himself together like he’s had practice at this. “If you know or saw anything, call the CrimeStoppers number. We advise residents to stay home after dark until further notice.”

Then the screen flips back toCharmedlike nothing happened. Just Prue bossing her sisters around again. The whiplash makes me dizzy.

But I know who did this.

I just can’t figure out how they left without me hearing. We all went to bed at the same time. I would have noticed footsteps, doors, the engine. Wouldn’t I?

I stand up and head to the door, the mirror behind the entry table catches my eye, and I stare at my reflection. I look different. Hair wild, eyes sharp, lips still swollen from biting them in my sleep. I tilt my head, studying myself. I look like a woman who gave three men permission to burn the world down for her. And now, I can’t find the off switch.

I head out the door in search of the trio. I can already hear them before I see them—music blasting and the hose spraying.They’re in the driveway washing the car. Foam streaks down black paint. Yungblud’sParentsscreams out of the speakers.

I walk over, reach out, and twist the radio knob down until the noise dies. My hands find my hips. My heart still pounds from the news. Evander spots me first, rag dripping in his hand.

“What’s up, Little Horror?” he asks like it’s just another morning.

“What’s up is my show got interrupted by an emergency alert!” I snap. “Devon and Darron? Found dead this morning.”

Corwin whistles low, shaking his head. “Well, ain’t that karma.”

“Cut the shit, crazy pants. How the hell did you get out of the house without me waking up? We went to bed at the same time.”

Corwin smirks, flicking soap suds at me. “Doesn’t mean we stayed in bed, babe.”

“Why?” My throat feels tight. “Why did you do it?”