October 30th

He drove us to the abandoned house. When we got out, I looked around. The house sat in the middle of the woods. If that wasn’t creepy enough, it was literally falling apart right in front of us. It looked dangerous.

Luke had invited me to a party. He knew I hated parties, but I went anyway. And then, on the way, he told me he wanted to show me something. So here we were, standing in front of this morbid looking, broken thing.

The air was cold, so I pulled my jacket tighter around me. I saw Luke glance at me, and he almost moved toward me, but I stopped him.

“Why are we here?” I asked.

“My friend said there was something amazing inside,” Luke said excitedly. “I don’t really know what it is, because what could be in there? It’s a shithole.”

I frowned. “I don’t like it here.”

Luke grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me into the house. It was one story and it looked like kids had been coming here and using things to break it down faster, like it was infected and needed to be dealt with.

I moved toward one of the closed doors, expecting it to be locked, or have spider webs all over it. Once I opened it, I could smell something so strong that it made my stomach twist.

“What is that?” I gasped, stepped back.

Luke came up behind me, his face screwed up in revulsion. “I have no idea.” He squeezed his brown eyes shut and shook his head. “It’s disgusting. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

I heard Luke turn around and I thought he was going to leave until he shouted, “Gail, come here! I found it.”

I followed his voice, and it wasn’t that far away, only in another part of the house. It looked like an old game room. But there was only one thing in it, and it was pushed in the corner, a sheet over it.

Luke grinned and removed the grimy-looking sheet.

It was a large, fortune-telling machine; the woman inside the glass had a head decoration that looked like little coins, and little stars dangled from them. She was bent over a crystal ball, her eyes looking ominously at anyone who passed her. She wanted them to succumb and make a wish.

“You should make a wish,” Luke urged.

“Why?” I asked. “It won’t come true. This thing is so old that it won’t even work anymore.”

But, even as I said it, I was thinking of something. I know if I made the wish in front of Luke, he’d just think I was insane.

I wish I could make them go away.

Nothing happened.

I walked around to the back of the machine. It was plugged in. I scrunched my nose in confusion and shrugged at Luke.

“Got to say it out loud,” he muttered. “I wish for a Big Mac!”

I rolled my eyes. “You idiot, that’s not a wish. You could easily go buy one.”

He nodded. “I could, but it would be nice if it could just appear out of thin air.”

I walked away from him and back outside. I waited by the car until he came back. I didn’t really speak much until we got to the party. It was a Halloween party. People in costumes were everywhere, and as I got out of the car, some girls shot me glares.

“Nice costume, Gail. Ugly is always in.”

I frowned at Lily Owens. She was standing with her friends, wearing a black robe and a pointed hat. From bitch to witch.

“Simmons, you look like someone beat you with a hideous stick.” Miranda Reeves cackled.

“They took too many shots at you,” a voice said from behind me. I was going to turn around and tear their face off, but then I realized their comment was toward Miranda.

The boy stepped around me and turned to gaze at my face. His black hair was slightly curly, and his eyes were the greenest I’d ever seen. He smiled, and then returned his attention to the girls.

“It’s a shame that such pretty girls have to be such bitches,” he told them. “Lily, you should realize how much it hurts to be called ugly. Trevor told me about what happened last year. And Miranda, well, I really have no idea what your issue is.”

I cleared my throat, and the boy turned to face me, with a smirk.

“I’m sorry about them.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Saxon. Trevor Barnes is my cousin.”

I glanced at Trevor, who was dressed as Dracula and chugging a beer. I looked back at Saxon. “I didn’t think he’d even have a nice relative.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well, Trevor’s not exactly the nicest person. That’s why all the girls like me better.” He winked.

I smiled and when he asked if he could get me a drink, I said I would do it. I got into the house quickly, looking for Luke the whole time. When I didn’t see him, I headed to the kitchen. Before I got there, however, someone blocked my path.

It was Lily. She sneered at me, gripped my wrist, and pulled me I into the bathroom. Miranda was there with two other girls I didn’t know. I jerked away from Lily and headed toward the door. One of the girls, who was much bigger than me, blocked it.

“You know, I didn’t know you were a slut, too.” Lily smiled, wrapped her hands in my hair, and slammed my face into the wall.

It hurt, but I didn’t make a noise, because I knew with bullies it’s what they wanted. Instead I turned around, flexed my jaw, and glared at her.

“Leave me alone,” I said. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

Lily nodded to the other girls and they gripped my arms. Then Miranda’s fist collided with my nose. Blood poured down my face, into my mouth, and onto the floor. Stupidly, I spit some into her face.

“You’re sleeping with Saxon,” Lily snapped. “It’s bullshit that you just met him.” When she slapped me, my head actually snapped to the side.

Someone was trying to get into the room, but Miranda placed a chair under the knob and leaned it back. I didn’t understand why there was a chair in the bathroom, at least not a first.

But as Lily pummeled me, and I took every hit, I realized they had this planned. When my knees buckled and I started to sink onto the floor, I heard someone speak.

“Leave her. She deserves this.”

I don’t know how long I was on the floor for, but when I opened my eyes, I was in darkness. There was no movement, so I assumed they left. I tried to sit up, and when I couldn’t, I just laid on the tiles, aching.

Suddenly, the lights came on, blinding me. Then someone screamed and dropped down next to me. They were saying something, but I couldn’t really focus on the words. Their hands were soft, and they made me want to sleep.

So I closed my eyes.

Stay awake, a voice told me.

But I was so tired. Before I knew what was happening, I was floating. That felt nice. When it stopped, I wondered why. Then I knew. I had died. They had beaten me to death.

“You’ll be okay,” someone whispered.

Off in the distance I heard, “Oh my God. Gail, what happened?”

Luke.

I groaned and sat up, bringing my hands up to my face. “Who are you?” I asked to the stranger. I didn’t want to open my eyes.

“It’s Saxon. Gail, you’re going to be alright. Can you tell me what happened?”

I opened my eyes and was grateful to see his green ones. I was slowly getting strength back. So much so that I was able to sit up. I was in a bedroom, probably somewhere upstairs, away from people.

“Lily, Miranda and two other girls I didn’t know did this,” I said.

Saxon narrowed his eyes, stood up, and ran his hands through his hair. “Why would they do that?”

“Lily thought you and I were sleeping together, and she didn’t believe me when I said I just met you.”

“That’s ridiculous. Even so, they didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s okay,” I said, realization dawning on me. “I’ll fix everything.” I stood up, and without a word to him, left the room.

I knew what I had to do.

*

Sirens wailed. Three or four parked on the lawn. Doors slammed and several of the occupants of the cars rushed over. All of the officers had their guns drawn. Two, a female and male, entered the house. There were no lights on, so they used their flashlights.

They didn’t have to look far, because sitting on the couch was a girl. She had a knife in her hand, and it was covered in blood. But the worst part? The absolute worst part was that the blood was not hers.

“What happened here? Miss, can you hear me?” The male officer asked, crouching down. He placed his hand on the coffee table to his left to balance him and keep the flashlight on the girl’s face, which was blank.

“Bradshaw,” the female muttered behind him.

He turned his head after shifting his hand, and saw that a sticky substance had come off of the coffee table.

More blood.

Officer Bradshaw turned his flashlight toward the window. He hadn’t noticed it before, hadn’t felt the breeze, but the glass was shattered.

“Where are the bodies?” he asked.

The girl twitched, turned her head, and smiled.

“I made them go away,” she said. “It was so simple.”

“Caplan, come here!”

The female officer approached them, and she knelt down on the girls other side. She reached with a glove-covered hand and dug through the girl’s pocket for identification. She found something else instead.

There was a small, rectangular card with one single phrase on it.

YOUR WISH HAS BEEN GRANTED.

Lee had a fear of monsters from an early age.

When he was seven, he saw a large creature with knives for fingers standing over his mommy while she slept. He was too frightened to tell her any of this the next morning, so he sat in silence while he ate his breakfast.

When he turned ten, however, he had seen the monster hurt his mom; it struck her across the face with its sharp fingers, cutting her cheek up nice.

Mommy cried for a long time after that.

As Lee got older, he was able to separate make believe from reality, and he saw the monster for what it really was; a drunken, stumbling, angry mess of a person.

Daddy was the monster all along.

Mommy was never the same.

She wanted to take Lee away, so daddy couldn't find them.

But when Lee was seventeen everything changed.

He put a stop to all of it as his dad slept in the reclining chair, three empty beer cans in his lap, and the TV remote dangling from his hand.

A switchblade, which had been given to Lee by his father when he was eleven, was used well.

Daddy never hurt them again after that.

I stood with my back to the wall and looked around at all of the people in those chairs. I remembered when we used to be called here to sit and listen to whatever announcement was being made. I never really paid attention anyway. Well, not until now.

In the far left corner of the auditorium, a man stood up. I watched him point at something but he didn’t say a word. I followed his hand and my eyes widened. I felt my stomach twist unpleasantly as I looked up at the stage.

Tied to the rafters was a woman: brunette, half-clothed, and dead. Blood dripped down from the present bullet wound in the middle of her forehead, her mouth open in a scream I’m sure she was never able to utter.

Something that truly terrified me were her eyes.

The sockets were empty.

My knees buckled and I fell, using my hands to brace myself so I didn’t hit the cold ground. I gasped for air, my mind filled with the image of the woman, and I shut my eyes tightly.

I heard the door open to my left and someone asked me a question.

“Are you ready to see the doctor? He’s waiting for you.”

I turned my head, my eyes on the woman who had spoken. She was dressed in a nurses uniform and holding a clipboard. I dared a glance back at the others in the room and felt the bile rise in my throat at what I saw.

Some were lying in the middle of the aisle, some were draped off the backs of the chairs, and some were spread across the stage. But they all had one thing in common; each looked like the hanging ornament with hole above.

“Emmy?” the nurse muttered. She crouched down and touched my shoulder. When I didn’t reply, she hoisted me up and led me out into the lobby.

Only it wasn’t the lobby I had known when I was younger. It wasn’t a lobby at all. It was a long, white hallway.

“You told me you were ready,” the woman replied before I could say anything. “It will be all right. I promise.”

Not far down the hall there was a room, which she led me into without discussion. She instructed me to sit on the bed. As I laid my head back against the pillow, I watched her face turn grim.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but this is for your own good.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely steady. My heart slammed against my chest at the sight of the needle she held.

“Please,” she murmured soothingly. She lowered her hand. “It’s the only way.”

Her free hand touched my face, then, cold fingers caressing, reassuring. When she turned away, I felt relief wash over me. But the feeling was short-lived as she went to the door and opened it, revealing another person beyond it.

It was a man, the doctor I presumed. He came toward me and put a hand on my arm. He smiled down at me; his blue eyes cool as he spoke.

“Do you feel better since they’re dead?”

“Who?” I blinked, watching him carefully. Panic slipped into my body and I felt a way of nausea hit me.

He chuckled and sat in the chair beside the bed. “Those people. All of them.”

“The people in the auditorium?” my throat tightened. “Why would I be happy that they’re all mangled and bloody? What the fuck is going on?”

“I’ll ask you to watch your language, Emily.”

My head was spinning. “How do you know my name?”

“Oh, I know quite a bit about you,” he said, flashing a smile. He ran a hand through his brown hair and shrugged. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

“Please.” I sat up but he touched a hand to my face and slammed me down. As he spread his fingers so they were across my cheeks, but kept clear of my nose, his own facial features changed.

“No more,” he hissed. I watched as he beckoned the nurse over and grabbed the needle from her hand. “I cannot allow this horror to continue.”

I felt something slid around my wrists, binding them to the bars attached to the bed. It took me half a second to realize they had been there the whole time. I had been so frantic to figure things out that I didn’t notice.

As the nurse stepped away from my left side, she shook her head sadly. I looked at the doctor as he secured the second set of straps. Then he slid his other hand over my mouth and pressed down. I thought he was going to suffocate me. I shut my eyes.

As I brought my legs up to fight, he climbed on top of me, his weight enough to hold me down. I continued to struggle, refusing to die like this. A muffled cry erupted from my throat but it died in his warm, sweaty palm.

He brought his unoccupied hand up and the tip of the needle gleamed as it hovered over me. Another hand gripped my face, gripped my eye, forcing it open. Terrified, I cried into his hand again, the tears welling up as the tip of the instrument penetrated.

**

The scream I heard was horrible. It echoed in the dark as I shot up and listened, my breathing ragged. It wasn’t until I finally stopped shaking, sometime later, did I realize the sound had come from my own throat.

I was covered in sweat, drenched, my body aching as if I had run a long distance. Terrified but not willing to allow this nightmare to consume me, I slid out of bed and doubled over.

“God,” I whispered into the blackness. “Fuck.”

Trembling and nauseous, I was finally able to regain my balance. I trudged to the bathroom, flicked on the light and winced. I hesitated as I looked at the mirror above the sink. My heart hammered in my chest, so hard that I thought it would break through.

“It was just a dream,” I whispered. God, my voice sounded pathetic. “You’re okay. Just go over there and look or you’ll never go back to bed.”

I had to coax myself like this a lot. This nightmare wasn’t the first. The very first was one I never liked to think about. This current one was tame compared to the others.

Taking a breath, I stepped up to the mirror and looked in; my red hair was knotted and messy, my skin pale, and my lips cut from where I had obviously bit into them at some point during the night.

Nothing seemed to be out of place except for the discoloration and mark under my left eye.

It looked like a thumbprint.

He remembered the first time he encountered them. They had come through his window one night, when the moon was at its highest.

“Hello, Charlie.”

The twelve year old lowered his blanket. Two girls and a boy stared at him. The dark-haired girl grinned at him, her brown hair in a messy knot. There was blood along her cheeks and on her neck, the flesh cut open.

But Charlie wasn't scared. He had seen enough horror movies to know that monsters didn't exist. “Hello,” he replied softly. “How did you know my name?”

The other girl smiled, her blonde hair glistening in the moonlight. Her smile was so big that Charlie could see her teeth. No – her fangs. She crouched down and examined a toy truck on his floor.

“We know a lot about you,” the boy said, coming forward. His shaggy hair fell into his strange, yellow eyes. “We've picked you, Charlie. You're special. We've been watching you. You're smart, resourceful.” The boy grinned, his teeth normal. “I'm Liam, and this is Olivia and Carly.” He indicated the blonde, then the dark-haired girl. He peered at Charlie. “You're not afraid of us.”

It wasn't a question.

“No,” Charlie answered bravely. “You're not real.”

“Are you sure?” Carly wondered. She tried to wipe the blood from her face. “It itches,” she told him. Sitting on the edge of his mattress, she looked around. “You have a nice room.”

Charlie didn't answer. He was too busy looking at her neck. At the wound that now seemed too real. And she smelled, he noticed. She smelled so bad that he needed to cover his nose and mouth. She was putrid, rotten.

She reeked of death.

Olivia smiled again, her sharp teeth startling.

Charlie had always been fascinated with vampires – and now there was one in his room. He couldn't wait to tell his friends.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Liam said. “They'll just think you were playing a prank. Remember, vampires, werewolves and dead girls don't exist.”

Charlie took a deep breath, and reached out to touch Carly's hand. It was cold. So cold that he pulled away. When he spoke, his voice was trembling and full of fear.

“Oh my God.”

That was when Charlie screamed.

**

From that first night when he was twelve, and the three had come crawling through his window, Charlie Cross was marked. For years afterward, it was the same as if he had stepped back in time.

They looked exactly the same.

They asked the same thing of him.

Always the same thing.

“We chose you. We want you to join us. We want you to kill with us, Charlie. So we can stay here. Won't you do it?”

And he always refused, terrified of what would happen if he didn't. Would they ask him to kill his parents or friends?

“They're important to you,” Liam told him. “But we need you. You're the fourth.”

Olivia slipped her arms around Liam, her chin on his shoulder. “We'll just keep coming, you know.”

They had kept that promise. When Charlie turned sixteen, he thought somehow he was safe, that he had reached the age where nothing could get him. He was wrong.

He was sitting on the couch, remote in hand, after everyone had gone to sleep. He kept hearing footsteps upstairs, and assuming it was his parents, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

But he had barely closed his eyes when a familiar voice called his name. He sat up, eyes wide. But he wasn't afraid. He knew they would come again, just like before. He was stupid to think they were still imaginary, even after all this time.

That was when he saw her, standing by the TV. She twisted her long blonde hair around a finger. Her brown eyes fell on his startled face, and she smiled. “Hello, Charlie,” she said softly.

“Olivia,” he said. “Hi.” He looked around. “Where are Liam and Carly?” He thought it was strange that she was here, alone, a week before Halloween.

As she sat next to him, he caught a scent that made his stomach churn. Blood. He knew that smell all too well. He wanted to ask her about it, but thought better of it.

“Don't kill him, Liv.”

Carly emerged from somewhere in the darkened room, making Charlie wonder if she had been there the whole time. He never got used to the sight of her slashed neck, or the smell of rotten flesh.

“I was just talking,” Olivia said. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“You're trying to persuade him.” Liam put a hand on Olivia's shoulder, his nails digging in. “Aren't you, sweetheart?”

“Of course not,” Olivia said. “Charlie can make his own choices.”

“It's not Halloween,” Charlie reminded them. “And I'm not going to help you, I'm sorry. I won't kill anyone.”

Olivia's eyes darkened and she scowled. “Yes, you are.” She slid her nail along his arm, some blood trickling down his skin. “You refuse us again and you'll be sorry.”

“Olive!” Carly shouted. “No, we talked about this. We need him, so you cannot hurt him. He's the fourth.”

“The fourth what?” Charlie asked. “You said that before. I don't know what you mean.”

“One more person makes us stronger,” Liam answered. “Each of us needs to feed on someone to continue to gain access to this world during Halloween night.”

Charlie shook his head. “This is such a nightmare,” he whispered.

“Only it's not,” Carly said, sitting on his other side. She glanced at the others. “We have to tell him.”

They nodded.

“Tell me what?” Charlie asked.

Liam spoke, his voice apologetic. “This is your last year to refuse us. You won't get another chance next time.”

Charlie swallowed, his pulse racing. “What are you talking about?”

“We've lived so long because of others. Eventually, before their sixteenth year was up, they agreed to help us.” He cast a glance at Olivia. “Until she decided we didn't need them anymore.”

Now he understood.

Every year for as long as Charlie could remember, he'd heard the stories. Halloween had come and gone, and with it, another body. Everyone thought some troubled teen had decided to take off.

But Charlie knew the truth now.

And he prayed he wouldn't be next.

“You're not serious,” Charlie muttered, looking at them. “Oh, shit. You are, aren't you? You're the reason all of those kids went missing.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Oh my God. And now you want me to help you. No. Fuck you. No way.”

“You don't have a choice,” Liam answered. “We told you that.”

“Why?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “Why do I have to help you?”

“You're not afraid of us,” Carly said. “All of the kids we've encountered were terrified at first. But once they realized that we were real, and we weren't going to hurt them, they accepted their fate.”

“Fate?” Charlie's voice turned hard. “Their fate was not to die. It wasn't to help three monsters murder another human, only to be killed themselves because you decided they were worthless after they served their purpose.”

His last words were directed at Olivia, who only glared at him. She stood, bared her fangs, and hissed. Liam pushed her back down as Carly gripped her arm.

“You have a very strange way of looking at the world,” Liam told him. He sat on the armrest of the couch. “You value human life, mainly because you don't know any better. But I've seen the way people treat each other.”

“I would never hurt anyone,” Charlie snapped.

Olivia's hand wrapped around his. It was cold, like Carly's, but he knew the difference. She looked at him, and in the light of the TV, he could see her eyes darken. She ripped herself from Carly's grasp and stood. Her fingers slipped around his neck, and she squeezed lightly.

Leaning over, she whispered, “You don't want to help us? Then you won't mind if I kill you right now.”

His eyes slid to hers, then he shut them. He braced himself, but the pain never came. Instead, her hands left him, and warmth enveloped his body once again. He let out a breath and opened his eyes.

Liam stared at him, yellow eyes glowing. “You're the only one that can help us, Charlie. We've found someone worthy of death. Once you help us, you'll go on living a normal life for many years. But we won't exist in them.”

“No one is worthy of death.”

“Yes, they are,” Carly said softly.

Charlie glanced at her. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Liam sighed and sat onto the couch next to Carly.

“His name is Ash,” Liam said, his voice a growl. “He's the man who killed Carly.”

Carly stiffened at the man's name. She touched her neck, but no blood came off on her hands. She looked at Charlie and lowered her eyes. “Now do you see why we need to dispose of him? You have to help us.”

“I'm sorry that happened to you,” Charlie said, sitting next to her. “But I'm not going to help you kill someone, no matter how much they deserve it.”

From across the room, Olivia groaned. “You're such a good boy, Charlie. It's really quite disturbing how you can hear something that fucked up and not want revenge for your friend.”

“Look,” Liam started, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder, “stop, okay? We decided a long time ago that Charlie was a good kid, a kind soul.” He glanced around the room, yellow eyes narrowed. “But right now we've got to find Ash. It'll be up to you whether you want to help us.” He looked at Charlie, smiling, his canines sharp.

“But if you back out, I'll make you pay.” Olivia swept from the room, her voice cold.

“Don't listen to her,” Carly said, standing. “You do what you think is right. With or without you, we can get rid of Ash.”

Charlie nodded as Liam spoke quickly, ushering them to the front door.

“You should realize that if you help us just this once, that's it. That's all we need, to stay here for another year. If you don't, well, then we'll say goodbye to you tonight. But don't let Olivia's attitude sway you. It's taken me a long time to see that she's not in charge, that she shouldn't have killed all those kids, just because they were useless to her. That wasn't right.”

“Why are you here now?” he asked. “Halloween isn't for another week.”

Carly frowned. “That was Olive's idea. She's all talk, as you can tell. She just wanted to spook you.”

“I don't spook easily,” he replied, opening the door.

“That much is clear.” Liam chuckled and stepped into the night. He shut the door behind him and looked around at the front yard. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Charlie stared at the sky; it was dark, ominous. He nodded.

**

Ash Terrence lived in the woods by Charlie's house.

“What are you going to do?” Charlie asked.

“He's going to know what it's like to beg for his life before he dies,” Carly answered. She didn't sound like herself. She was angry, and with good reason.

“Easy,” Liam said, putting a hand on her shoulder. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. He looked at the house. “It's time.”

Olivia chuckled and stood next to Carly. She smiled. “Oh, darling. We've been waiting for this moment.”

**

Ash had been drinking a beer when the window to his house exploded. A giant dog had come through, the glass raining down on its back. It took Ash a moment, just a moment, to realize the beast before him wasn't a normal dog, but a wolf.

He cowered from his chair, and lodged himself into a tight corner, screaming. When the wolf didn't advance, but changed right in front of him, Ash cried out. The boy smirked, his yellow eyes radiant in the soft glow of the lamp on the side table.

“Hello, Ash,” he said, his voice cold. “I'm sorry for the intrusion, but we need to speak. It's quite important. Also, I have someone here who would like a word with you.” He looked out the broken window. “Come on, darling.”

Ash tried to control his trembling body, but found it useless under the circumstances. He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, and shut them again. Again and again. Because there was no way, no fucking way that this was happening. He was either dreaming or severely drunk that he was hallucinating.

“You may be drunk,” said the boy, flashing his canines, “but I can promise you, this is real. It's real and now you're going to pay.”

“Pay?” Ash said, his eyes wide. He clutched the beer bottle tighter. “Who are you?”

“My name is Liam,” the stranger said. “And my dear friend Carly would like to discuss something with you.”

Ash wanted to ask who he was talking about - he didn't know anyone by the name of Carly. But when the girl stepped over the window frame and into the house with her savaged neck, ripped clothes and blood streaked face,that was when he remembered. The memory tugged at him, forced images.

She had been crossing the road, and his brain never told him to stop. He was so wasted that he never registered her until his car slammed into her. Her body flew into his windshield.

Once he opened the door, he vomited. Wiping his mouth, he rushed out into the cold to check on her, already fearing the worst. The fog was so thick that he could barely see his hand in front of his face, but when he approached her, he had to will the second round of vomit down.

The girl lay across the hood, her body broken, mangled, and dead. She was dead. He'd killed someone. Her blood was on his hands, he saw, as he looked down. He blinked, and the blood vanished. Her blood was all over him. All over his car. He swallowed and lifted her, and then he heard it.

The flesh of her neck had gotten caught on something and torn. Blood spraying.

Holding the dead girl in one arm, he rummaged through her pockets. For her wallet, an ID, anything that would help him know who she was. He needed to know who she was. And then he found it.

Carly.

Sixteen.

Oh God.

Shoving the wallet into his jeans, he carried her toward a field he'd passed. Dumping her body seemed terribly cruel, but what else was he going to do?

He took out a small knife from his jacket and pressed it to the wound on her neck. Pressed hard and dragged until more of her flesh split.

He stood and waited for another car.

He would claim to have found her.

Murder, he told himself.

He was a murderer.

He would pay for his sins.

He knew she would come for him one day.

“You've come,” he whispered, voice strangled with anguish and fear. “Oh God, I'm so sorry for what I did to you.”

Carly blinked at him, then her eyes grew glassy, hard. “You should be. Because I wasn't dead when you left me there in that field.”

Silence filled the air.

“We're here to give you what you deserve,” a new voice said. Female.

Before Ash closed his eyes, he saw a boy standing over him. A normal boy. A boy who looked afraid, but determined. Then the pain came. It came from everywhere. It exploded inside of him and he couldn't stop it. He screamed and screamed.

And then he didn't move again.

**

Ash Terrence had died a marked man.

“Clean off your hands before you go home,” Olivia told him. She licked the blood from the corner of her mouth, and smiled. “Wouldn't want your mom to see what you've been doing.”

Charlie nodded, his eyes on Carly. “What's going to happen to her?”

Liam followed his gaze: Carly was sitting down, her back against the couch, eyes fixated on the destroyed body of Ash Terrence.

“Hopefully her unfinished business is through,” Liam said quietly. “Then she can go home. We all can. Her final wish was that we helped her, and we have.”

“You'll be free of us soon enough,” Olivia replied, walking over. She looked at her friend. “She's full of regret.”

“Regret?” Charlie answered, and he couldn't believe it. “For what? He left her to die!”

“Easy there,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes. “I don't think that goes away. She wanted to hurt him, because he deserved it. An eye for an eye, isn't that the saying?”

“A life for a life,” muttered Liam.

“Basically.” Olivia frowned. “Hey, why do you look so sad? You got your revenge. You should be celebrating.”

“I killed someone,” Carly answered, her voice hoarse.

“He left you for dead, and correct me if I'm wrong, but you did die. He ran away, without taking you to a hospital. With their care, you could have lived. As far as I'm concerned, and you should be too, Ash Terrence is a murderer.”

It was Charlie who spoke. After hearing everything, he couldn't feel anything for the dead man, whose blood covered his hands. It was thick and warm, and to the untrained eye would have been mistaken for paint.

They had caused more carnage than Charlie had ever seen in his life; Liam, taking charge, had changed back into a wolf and ripped out Ash's throat, killing him instantly, and spraying the rest of them with his blood.

None of this appeared wrong to the human boy, Carly noticed, when Ash took his final, choking breath. Charlie had stood over the mangled corpse, taking it all in.

This worried Liam, too, as he watched the scene in his fur, his brain struggling to understand the strange expression on Charlie's face. But when he was in his skin again he heard a thought that rattled him.

Charlie Cross would become a killer.

I couldn't breathe.

The air was too tight, and my throat was raw, weak from all the screaming. I had stopped that some time ago, knowing it was useless. It would not help.

He was still out there, just waiting.

He was always waiting.

Always watching.

He had taken me away at my most vulnerable, when I had too much to drink. He dumped me in his car, not caring if I broke a bone from the way he dropped me.

He wanted me to suffer.

"Please," I muttered, "let me go."

Silence.

It seemed like hours and hours before he replied, his voice deep and bitter.

"I'm never letting you go."

I shook my head, trying to move my arms to touch my face, to rub the tears from my eyes. They, my hands, were bound by shackles.

Panic spread through me like a virus and I started to cry again, louder this time. I dropped my head.

The door opened slowly, and as his footsteps came closer, I felt his hands on me. He grabbed my face with rough hands and forced me to look at him.

I knew then that I would not live to see the next sunrise. I would not live to see anything.