Autumn Storm (The Witchling #2)(28)

They disappeared into the forest, only for the routine to start anew. She sensed they were acting out some bizarre scene. It was like the corridor; unfamiliar and scary. Was this a memory of the air magick, projected into the field? Like the earth showed her?

The dark-haired ghost reached the other side of the snowy clearing. Autumn trailed again, watching as the girl’s form disappeared into the forest.

This time, the ghost didn’t wait for her at the edge of the trail where the forest fell away and the cliff overlooking Miner’s Drop. As Autumn watched, the ghost approached the edge of the canyon. She stood still for a long moment.

Fear rose fast and cold within Autumn. She quickened her pace, uncertain why the idea of a hallucination – probably brought on by her pain meds – jumping off a cliff affected her at all.

Don’t. She willed the girl. Just wait!

If the ghost heard, she gave no indication. Autumn limped free of the path into the snow. Black fog swirled around the ghost. She was gazing down into the canyon. Autumn drew abreast of her, taking in the pale face once more. There was sorrow in the girl’s dark eyes, and Autumn followed her gaze. For a long moment, she couldn’t breathe.

On the snow-covered slope far below, the girl lay unmoving. Her body was bent at angles that told Autumn she didn’t survive the fall. Blood pooled around her, glimmering red-black amid the black shadows milling around her form. Both were a stark contrast to the snow.

A tremor of distress went through Autumn. She glanced at the girl beside her. The apparition was gone. She was alone on top of the cliff. Her body shook from something she couldn’t identify. Emotion? Memory? Whatever it was, it was buried. The scene before her meant something to the part of her she couldn’t access. It made her breathing harsh and uneven.

As she watched, the body in the canyon faded and dissipated like smoke. No sign of what happened remained.

But Autumn knew. She understood why the path to Miner’s Drop was off limits. The dark-haired ghost haunting her had showed her. She fought the darkness of her memories, struggling to recall why the ghost had chosen to follow her from the hospital to bring her here, tonight, and remind her what happened.

Her head began to pound. The harder she fought the blocked part of her mind, the sharper the pain grew, until she was dizzy. She needed to know, but fighting her mind was a losing battle resulting in a migraine.

She just couldn’t remember.

“You keep following me.”

Decker’s voice made her jump. Autumn winced and touched her temple. She drew a few deep breaths before turning to face him. He stood a few feet away, gaze on the sky. She focused on him, frowning. His words were slightly slurred and his eyes unfocused. The allure she’d barely escaped by day was intensified by night. Shadows didn’t just trace his movement, they swirled at his feet and wrapped him in a cloak.

“I don’t mean to,” she replied.

Her voice drew his attention. His gaze remained glazed. She wasn’t certain if she was relieved he couldn’t focus his intensity on her or scared he’d be like the college boys that pushed her around.

“Are you okay?” she ventured.

“Fine.” He glanced down at himself, as if to double check.

Autumn’s gaze swept over him, settling at the small pool of blood beside him. She looked harder for some sign of an injury. His hands and clothing were wet with blood.

“It’s not mine,” Decker said, aware of her gaze.

“Whose is it?” she whispered.

“The bus comes Thursdays. You just got here?”

She nodded uncertainly.

“Amber showed you the Light orientation.” He snorted. “You have no clue about the other side of the story.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you the quick version. There’s Light, and there’s Dark. Beck is Light. I’m Dark. His job is to protect those in the Light, and mine is to enforce the laws of both.” He lifted his hands. “This is how I do it.”

A chill went through her. She’d thought him dangerous, but this was entirely different than what she expected.

“You … you kill people?” she managed.

“Witchlings that go Dark. Only those who warrant it. Sometimes those who probably don’t.” He shrugged. “I don’t believe in second chances.”

Drugged and unguarded, Decker’s human side was exposed. Horrified by his words, she nonetheless sensed there was a pain as deep hers lurking beneath the shadows. She hated the idea of someone else suffering as she did, even him.

“I do,” she said, uncertain what else to say. “I had one. Maybe you will, too.”

“What?” His gaze sharpened.

“Nothing, I just …”

For once, she prayed Beck stumbled upon her again. Decker was staring at her hard, the shadows around him stilling in what she took to be warning, like a hunter about to pounce. The whisper of air magick grew fearful, alarming Autumn. What kind of magick did an element fear?

“There are no second chances.” His tone was hard, his voice inhuman. “Remember that, if you choose to go Dark.”

The shadows around him began to shift again. Autumn swallowed hard. If she could run, she would. Instead, she was trapped here with the panther, hoping it didn’t attack her.

“I…I meant to thank you for what you did at the football game,” she said, trying to ease the tension between them.