Page 9 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)

F ortunately, Bridget and Sarah did not hesitate at the command, and the three of us shot back up Peak Drive, only to be met with a wall of otherworldly darkness blocking our way.

“No, no, no. I am not running into that.” Sarah’s voice cracked as she shouted.

“Follow me.” Bridget pulled Sarah by the arm, making a hard turn into the pine forest behind my apartment.

“Um, I don’t know if this was the safer choice,” I called out as we sprinted between the trees. “I’ve seen horror movies that start like this.”

“He is following us, right? Like, we’re not just running for no reason?” Sarah’s voice was high-pitched. I looked over my shoulder, and the shadowy figure was still behind us.

“He’s on us, for sure!” I huffed. “And he’s following us like he’s Michael freaking Myers.”

“Like he’s doing that creepy walk pursuit thing? The dude isn’t even running? How is he keeping up with us?” Bridget growled.

“So, a horror-movie-esque Slasher is actually trying to murder us?” Sarah whimpered.

We continued running, jumping over logs and boulders and pushing through the overgrown brush.

“Real enough for me!” I yelled.

“I can’t talk anymore. I’m getting a cramp.” Sarah exhaled with desperation.

“We’re almost there,” I said between breaths.

“Almost where?” Bridget uttered the words in a rush.

“Guys, I can’t.” Sarah slowed down, nearly doubling over. I felt the way she looked.

“The cove, come on,” I urged them.

“You should’ve just said that in the first place.” Sarah popped back up and passed us, having caught her second wind. I would have laughed if we weren’t being chased by a potential psychopath.

“Is he still there?” Bridget asked as we tore through the brush.

“You look,” I grunted, hurdling over a tree stump.

“No, you,” she cowered.

“Guys, stop!” Sarah urged as she gasped for air. “Oh my god, I can’t breathe. I am going to die first.”

Having spotted the thinning of the trees, I shouted, “It’s there! We’re here.”

The three of us stumbled through the jagged underbrush and into the cove’s clearing, collapsing into the gravel-like sand.

“At least we get to die somewhere beautiful.” Bridget was flat on her back , looking up at the starry sky.

“Where is he?” Sarah plopped herself up on her forearms, eyes narrowed, scanning the tree line. Her face glowed from the sheen of sweat across her cheeks.

“I don’t know.” I stood up and watched the shadows from where we emerged. Squinting my eyes, I scanned for movement between the brush, expecting the figure to just pop out and murder us.

A pulse rippled through the clearing. Then again. I looked around to Bridget and Sarah, who seemed just as confused. Searching the area again, the stone pillars stood still but seemed to emanate a sort of force.

“Y'all feeling this?” Sarah asked cautiously. As if the cove had a heartbeat of its own, the power rippled through the clearing.

“Yup,” Bridget’s eyes locked onto the nearest stone giant, slowly approaching it.

“I think it helped us…the cove,” I whispered apprehensively.

The three of us wandered around the clearing like zombies, in awe of what was happening. The cove held a magical form of energy, which Sarah called Aecor, swelling from its center. The sensation of security washed over me, and I knew we were safe here.

“You know? I believe it,” Bridget said. “Sarah and I have explored this island a thousand times. I mean, we were constantly in the woods as kids. We have never seen this cove before.”

“It’s like this place wanted you to find it, Raina.” Sarah walked closer to me.

“But why? What does this all have to do with me? I looked around the cove for the answer. The breeze stayed steady, the water lapping was rhythmic, and not even the sea-tumbled pebbles under my feet dared to share the secrets I craved to uncover.

Moments passed in silence. Bridget walked between the stone giants, and Sarah stared off toward the horizon.

At the edge of the water, the small waves receded from the exposed boulders that formed the mouth of the cove. Tide pools glittered with the reflections of stars, looking like portals to another world. The atmosphere shifted, as if in joyful anticipation, and the three of us looked at one another yet again.

“Guys,” Sarah said. “What is that?” She pointed to one of the tide pools.

Since I was the closest, I walked over to the nested water. In its center was—

“A treasure chest?” I whispered, my eyes widening in wonder. No way did I just find an actual treasure chest. I pulled it from the tangle of seaweed and carefully relocated the small crab that hung onto the lid. Placing the chest on the gravelly sand, I notice something most peculiar. “It’s dry. How is it dry?”

“Dry?” Bridget knelt beside me. She placed her hand on the chest’s lid. “Weird. It is dry.”

“Maybe this place really is magical,” Sarah shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the evening’s events. As if some extra creepy stalker dude hadn’t chased us down. I looked over my shoulder to the cove’s edge to ensure he didn’t follow us here.

“It won’t open,” Bridget grunted, trying to pry the hinges.

“Is it locked?” asked Sarah.

“I don’t see a clasp or a keyhole,” I replied.

Bridget brushed away some stuck-on grime. “It’s here,” she revealed after sliding a portion of the adornment to the side. “The keyhole was hidden.” Yet, this new discovery presented us with an unfortunate obstacle; none of us happened to have a skeleton key lying around.

“It looks pretty old.” I examined the chest, noting the wood grain beneath the untouched varnish. “Seventeenth century, I believe.”

“How on earth would you know that?” Sarah asked, looking at me as if I spawned multiple heads.

“I sell antiques, artifacts, and heirlooms. Before I dropped out of school, I was getting my Master’s in anthropology and archaeology.”

“That’s an incredibly specific and useful skill set to have in a moment like this,” Bridget laughed.

“I guess you’re right,” I agreed, continuing to examine the chest. It was about the size of a shoebox, made of wood with a black stone inlay. Obsidian , maybe, but less polished. Placing both of my hands on the thing, it felt warm.

“So, how long do we have to hide here before you think we’re no longer being hunted?” asked Sarah.

“We can head back toward Mapleshade. That’s directly east of here, and we came from the north. I think.” I wasn’t too sure anymore.

“That sounds like a better option than camping out here and freezing for the night,” Bridget said.

Once more, static-charged energy pulsed through the clearing, and we all locked eyes.

“Uh, I think the cove agrees with the plan.” Bridget nodded.

“We can figure out if that’s the case or not later, but can we please get out of here?” Sarah waved us toward her as she entered the tree line. I grabbed the aged wooden chest, and we followed behind her.

Twigs and branches seemed to make way for us, snagging us less than they had on the way into the cove. The ground appeared more level and tamed, allowing us to quickly and silently navigate our way to the dead end of Mapleshade. Heavy limbs of the towering pines were the last obstruction before we spilled out onto the street. I tripped over a root, dropping the wooden chest on the overgrown grass as I tried to catch myself before stumbling onto the pavement.

“Who’s there?” A man’s voice boomed from the dark. The glowing dome of the streetlight blinded us from seeing who that voice belonged to. The three of us skidded to a halt.

“Shit,” Bridget hissed. But the familiar tone of voice didn’t alarm me.

“Eamon?” I yelled and took a few steps forward. I heard the click of a lock, and then light flooded the street, burning my retinas. After a few moments, my eyes adjusted to the bright porch light. Eamon stood half inside the open door to my mother’s childhood home. A seemingly heavy cardboard box was cradled awkwardly in his arms.

“Raina, what in the hell—” my stepfather barked. Popping out from behind him, RJ’s face appeared. The boy ran barefoot out of the house and threw his arms around me.

“Rai?” RJ took a step back. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“Also, why are you coming out of the woods with two people I’ve never met before?” Eamon asked, dumbfounded.

“Hi, Mr—,” Sarah began.

“Mason, but just Eamon is fine.” He studied each of us standing in the middle of the road.

“Hi, Eamon,” Sarah greeted him again. “I’m Sarah Morgan, and this is Bridget Silver. We’re friends of Raina’s.”

“How did you make friends so fast?” RJ turned to ask me with complete and total awe on his face.

“Because I’m super cool.” I nudged him teasingly. “Why are you even awake? It’s super late.”

“I was up painting. I’ll be right back.” As RJ ran back into the house, I saw the evidence; his forearm was spattered with color.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Eamon.” I turned my attention to my stepdad. “We just ate a ton at dinner and decided to walk it off. Didn’t realize we went so far.” Lying isn’t the most ethical approach, but something instinctual prompted me to do so…to protect him.

“Alright, well, it’s nice to meet you ladies. I’d love to chat, but this is heavy.” He walked back into the house, and the door shut behind him.

“Where is the chest?” Bridget whispered, looking at my empty hands.

“I tripped and almost died. The thing went flying,” I hissed back. Sarah sauntered to the curb and tried to look around, but it was far too dark.

“I can’t see shit.” Her voice was low.

“Don’t go searching for it now. Stop it,” Bridget said through clenched teeth. “We don’t even know what it is. Get. Back. Over. Here. Leave it. ” She urged Sarah.

Creaking wood made the three of us snap our attention back to the house. RJ emerged carrying a sizable canvas. He kept the face of it toward his chest as he walked over to us, still barefoot. As he moved to turn it around, the rumble of a truck and headlights gleamed as the vehicle approached.

“Jeff’s home.” RJ’s voice was flat.

Sarah perked up, beaming at Bridget. “I get to meet Jeff,” she said with a singsong voice.

“Oh my god, Sarah, shut up.” Bridget elbowed her.

With his arrival, any trace of tension or lingering fear from the night’s terrors dissipated in a single heartbeat. His heavy boots made a thud on the asphalt as he stepped out of his truck, and he froze the moment he saw the four of us standing in the middle of the dead end.

“Uh,” Jeff ran a hand through his cropped brown hair. “Hi?”

“H—,” I opened my mouth to greet him, but Bridget beat me to the word.

“Hi, I’m Bridget.” She stepped forward.

“And I’m Sarah.” Sarah introduced herself with a flirty head tilt, sweeping a loose curl to the side. “It is so good to meet you.” She couldn’t hide her giddy grin, and Bridget stared daggers at her.

Jeff shifted in his stance, eyes sliding to me, searching for answers.

“We went for a hike.” I blurted. He knew I was lying. He always did.

“Sure. Maybe next time, do it during daylight.” He took steps toward the house.

“Actually, Jeff?” He paused, hearing me call out. “Can you give us a ride back to Peak Drive?”

He nodded. “Let me change first. I’ve been at the docks all day.” As he walked to the door, the porch light caught the edge of his jaw, which he clenched and unclenched. He hesitated at the door and turned to where we stood. “You need anything?” His eyes were on Bridget’s.

“I’m—we’re good,” she said, putting her hands in her hoodie pocket. “Thanks.”

“Here.” RJ grabbed my attention again. He turned the canvas over, briefly fumbling with its size.

Bile rose in my throat as my eyes danced around the landscape he painted. It’s not that the painting was disturbing, not really. I studied the curve of the waterline, the height of the stones, and the licks of flames from a fire. My little brother captured an uncanny replica of the cove, and it felt like I had been punched in the gut.

“Can I see?” Sarah bounced over, her curls flying everywhere, and she audibly gasped once she laid eyes on the canvas.

“What?” Bridget casually walked over, hands still in her pouch. “What the—” she jumped back as if merely seeing the painting had electrocuted her. Bridget’s green eyes shot to mine, as did Sarah’s.

“RJ, how do you know about this place?” I asked him, forcing my voice to stay calm. The poor kid looked at our faces as his expression fell, worry dragging down his features. “Don’t fret bud, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just curious.” I placed my hand on his cheek like our mother used to do when we were upset. He momentarily shut his eyes at the touch.

“Since Dad made us move here,” his voice cracked, “I kept dreaming about it. I tried to look for it. I have this feeling that it’s probably somewhere here.” He looked off toward the darkened trees, speaking mostly to himself.

Swallowing a lump that formed in my throat, I lowered my face to his. “I dreamt about it, too. My first night here,” I told him. His blue eyes widened. “I’ve seen it, and you did a perfect job.” I forced my tender smile to reach my eyes before hugging him tightly.

“That’s when the eyes showed up,” he said against my shoulder.

I pulled away from him. “Eyes?” He lifted the canvas and pointed to the center, where the brush and trees met the gravel beach.

Set deep into the shadows of the pines, hidden but perfectly highlighted, the brushstrokes formed a pair of watching eyes.

“In my dream, the eyes showed up the same night you arrived.”