Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(12)

“Maybe we should sleep out here every night,” Angie said.

“Well, let’s not be getting too hasty there, Miss Angelica,” Lauren replied. “The night is still young.” I snorted. “But, I’ll concede,” she went on, holding up a hand in the air, “I am more optimistic for a good night’s sleep tonight than I have been since we arrived. This netting is quite comforting.”

“I would’ve sold my brother for a treehouse like this, growing up,” Angie said wistfully.

“You would’ve sold him for much less,” I chuckled, recalling how mad her little brother used to make her. Up until the age of twelve, his favorite pastime had been setting booby traps for her around their house, which more often than not resulted in her showing up to school late, with globules of glue in her hair, or in some other similarly unfortunate state.

“Okay, probably,” she conceded, “but my point stands.”

“We actually had an old treehouse in our backyard,” Lauren said, “at least, in the first house we lived in. My parents are the literal opposite of handy, though, so we never got it fixed up.”

“You wouldn’t have had much of a view anyway in that place,” Angie added.

Lauren laughed. “Heh, yeah that’s true. Just the train tracks.”

My two friends continued their small talk for a bit, before falling quiet, allowing me to relish our surroundings. I listened intently, and discovered that the chirping of crickets was only the surface of the myriad of sounds that ruled the night. A soft, gentle cooing drifted over from the direction of the woods, along with the creaking of tree trunks and the whispering of leaves. I could even make out the tinkling of chimes in the distance—coming from Mr. Doherty’s home.

I let my eyes fall closed as I dug deeper into the layers of serenity, trying to identify each unique sound, each instrument in the night’s chorus. Mr. and Mrs. Churnleys’ snoring soon became a part of it.

And then a loud shout pierced the air.

At least, I thought it was a shout. It was a booming, yet short sound, which had just been too humanlike to be a bark.

I was turning over to look at my friends when I heard it again, but louder and longer this time, drifting over to us from the woodland area.

“You heard that, right?” I asked, staring at Lauren and Angie.

Their eyes were wide, concern etched across their faces. “Yeah,” Angie said. “Someone shout—”

It came again, longer and more urgent than before.

We all stood up and moved over to the window. “It’s coming from that direction, isn’t it,” Lauren murmured, pointing toward the mass of trees.

“Yes,” I replied. “I wonder who—”

When it happened a fourth time, it was closer to a scream than a shout, and there was no doubt in my mind that whoever was making the noise was definitely in pain. The near silence of the night amplified the noise, carrying it to us with unnerving clarity.

“Who else would it be but one of those guys?” Angie said after an anxious pause. “I think we should go and check it out. Make sure they’re okay.”

Lauren and I looked at her, and I swallowed, gauging the distance between our treehouse and the beginning of the fence bordering off their patch of forest. It was really no more than a ten-minute walk, and we had our flashlights out here already.

“Okay,” I said. “I think we should too.”

Lauren bit her lip. “Shouldn’t we let the Churnleys know first?”

We paused again, looking toward the farmhouse.

“Honestly,” Angie replied, “I feel bad about waking them up. If it’s serious, we’ll obviously rush back and figure out how to get help to him, but—let’s just find out what’s wrong with the guy. I mean, for all we know, it could just be a really bad stubbed toe…” She gave us a sheepish smile, and I grinned in spite of myself.

“Okay, I guess that makes sense.” I raised a brow at Lauren, who was still looking dubious. “What do you think, Lauree?”

“I guess I’m just a little nervous about wandering around out there in the dark.”

“Well, you don’t have to come,” Angie said, already rummaging around for our flashlights. “You can leave the initial recon mission to Riley and me.”

“No way,” she replied, frowning. “If you guys are going, I’m not gonna be left behind.”

“Okay, well—let’s get going then,” Angie said, handing Lauren and me our flashlights. Lauren readjusted her dark hair in a tight bun, as if she was preparing to go to war or something, and then grabbed the waist bag Mr. Churnley had brought us and fastened it around her waist. “In case we need water.” She flashed us a knowing look before we piled out of the treehouse and clambered down the ladder.

There was definitely no harm in bringing water, given how sticky the night was, but I didn’t anticipate our being gone for much more than twenty minutes. Especially if we jogged, which I suspected we would, given how intense the shouts were becoming.

As we touched down on the ground and hurried toward the gate, I had to wonder if the noise would end up waking up the Churnleys after all. Then again, they were deep sleepers, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they slept through it.

We pounded down the track leading to the woods, aiming our flashlights ten feet ahead of us, though the moon on its own was almost bright enough we didn’t need the flashlights.