Page 144 of Satan's Spawn

I catch it and follow behind, hoping like hell wherever we’re going doesn’t include some Satanic church or sacrificial gathering in the woods.

* * *

So it wasn’t a church.

And I wasn’t sacrificed…yet.

But we did end up in the woods of Central Park.

It took a crowded twenty minute train ride to get us here, which, to my surprise, we didn’t end up killing each other.

Instead, Crayton sat next to me the entire time, elbows on his knees as he surveyed every single person around us. Only speaking when I pried a conversation out of him, which mostly consisted of questions about different areas in the city.

He even managed to laugh when I asked if there was a canal near Canal street.

There was no talk about what we did in the confessional or what he did to that stranger for what he said to me.

A part of me thought if I ignored the red flags waving in my face, I could pretend they’re not there and just take in the time I’m spending with the guy I’ve been desperate to see for a week.

Crayton can lie all he wants, but we both know something shifted between us when we were at the bottom of that pool.

And someone whotrulyhates another person, doesn’t react the way Crayton did with that guy earlier.

“It’s just along the bend.” Crayton points ahead of the trail we’ve been walking for about ten minutes, which is extremely dark.

Note to self: never go hiking through the woods with flip flops and bad boys.

We trek about a quarter of a mile more, passing colossal sized trees housing some very noisy animals.

The only light we’re exposed to is the distant buildings and sheer glimmer of the moon.

That’s when I hear it…

Water babbling in the distance.

Maybe a brook?

“It gets rocky around here.” Crayton points at the ground, where the dirt quickly shifts into pebbles and the sound grows louder.

“What is this place?” I ask, balancing myself on a boulder.

“The North Woods.” He responds, jumping off a rock and out of sight.

“Crayton!” I shriek. “Where the heck did you go?”

I’m moving as quick as my leather sandals will allow, praying I don’t fall into some hidden ditch or break an ankle.

I reach the area he jumped from just as Crayton says, “I’m down here. Stop panicking.”

I look over the edge and about eight feet down stands the man in question, glaring up at me with his hands raised.

“Jump, I’ll catch you.”

“Or you’ll let me plunder into the ground. Call it a hiking accident. Leave me for the wolves to finish off.”

He lets out a frustrated breath. “For someone who has all these ominous suspicions about me, you sure do have quite the imagination.” He widens his stance, waving me on. “Besides, if I wanted to kill you I’d do it in a much less cliché place than the fucking woods.”

Begrudgingly, I sit my bottom on the edge of the rock and prepare to hop off it.