Demon of Dreams (Vesperwood Academy: Incubus #1)

3. Cory

3

CORY

F rom Mason City, I hitched a ride to Waterloo.

That took me back south, but a little farther east towards Wisconsin. I got to Waterloo at midnight and thought I’d have to sleep under a bridge somewhere, but I stumbled upon a couple who were driving overnight to Prairie du Chien, which zigzagged me north again, and at least got me over the state line.

I had no idea what to do once I was in Wisconsin, though, and I was incredibly tired. I found a little park with a picnic area and a bathroom with composting toilets. Not the most pleasant place I’d ever spent a night, but better than sleeping outside.

I curled up on the ground and hoped like hell I’d lost those monsters back in Iowa. I drowsily tried to come up with a plan if they found me here—trick them into falling down the toilet shafts?–but dropped to sleep before I could finish it. For once, my sleep was completely dreamless.

I woke up around seven, as the bathroom interior oozed from pitch black to predawn gray. On my walk back to the main road, I pulled my phone out. The battery was running low. I studied the pictures on the mood-board post. There was one with a bronze statue of a leaping stag chased by two wolves. Maybe someone would recognize that, if I showed it to enough people. It seemed like a stretch, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. And I needed to figure it out fast, if those things were still after me.

The attendant at a gas station where I bought a Snickers scratched his chin and thought hard when I asked if he’d ever seen it.

“Don’t think so.” He frowned. “Why? Is it some kind of tourist thing?”

“Maybe.” I felt as lost as he looked. “I’m from out of town. I’m just trying to find out if anyone recognizes it.”

“Maybe try one of those tourist places, with maps and stuff?” he suggested. “They might know.”

That was a good idea. “Is there one of those around here?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Good luck, though.”

The next ride I hitched took me to Madison. I was willing to go anywhere that might have a slightly bigger population. The woman who picked me up gave me a couple of ostentatious whiffs as she drove, and when she dropped me off near a strip mall a few miles out of town, I ducked into a Target and bought a three-pack of underwear, deodorant, and a toothbrush and toothpaste.

I considered springing for a fresh pack of socks and a new T-shirt too, but I had $219 in my bank account—$217, after that Snickers—and I had no idea how long that would need to last.

I headed into the bathroom to get cleaned up. I felt as grimy as the floor I’d slept on. Tonight, I had to find someplace I could shower.

A guy with red hair and freckles eyed me from two sinks over as I brushed my teeth. I wondered if I was offending him, but decided that if he was already staring, I might as well ask him a question.

“Do you know if there’s a tourism office around here?” I asked after spitting out my toothpaste.

His eyes widened, like he was surprised I was addressing him.

“No, sorry.” He cocked his head to the side. “If you’re not from around here, though, I can try to help. What’re you looking for?”

I pulled my phone out and tapped on the image of the statue to enlarge it. “This?” I said, already bracing for another no .

The guy barked a laugh. “Actually, I do. That’s at one of those resorts up by Namekagon. Silver Waters, I think it is.”

“Oh. That’s awesome.” I hadn’t been expecting that. “Um… where is that, though?”

“You know, up near Drummond.”

I looked at him blankly.

He tried again. “Bayfield County?”

I shook my head. It all meant nothing to me.

The guy pulled his phone out and opened up a map, zooming in to an area as splattered with lakes as bacon grease on a hot pan. He pointed to a resort on the shore of a particularly large and twisty lake.

“That’s Silver Waters, right there. Your statue’s out front.”

“Oh wow, thank you so much.”

Excitement rose in my chest. Of course, there was still a chance that all of this was meaningless. That the picture of the statue meant nothing, that the whole post meant nothing, and Vesperwood was just some fantasy book or something. But I’d gotten this far. I wasn’t going to stop now.

“You know it’s like, five hours from here, right?” the man said as I headed for the restroom door. “There’s a storm coming in. You should be careful.”

I waved a hand to him in thanks and slipped out the door. Those were slightly ominous last words, but I wasn’t going to let them get me down. I was headed for Silver Waters resort.

It took most of the day to get there, and as my final ride dropped me off in front of a massive timber lodge, the bronze statue out front, my excitement began to wear off. What was I supposed to do, now that I was here?

The rest of the pictures on the mood-board were either generic woodsy pictures or photos of homey things, like coffee mugs and slices of pie and an old bell tower. Nothing particularly recognizable, in my opinion.

There was nothing for it but to start asking people if they recognized the name of Vesperwood Academy. God, I was going to feel so stupid if this turned out to be some show on the Disney Channel that I’d never heard of. With a sigh, I headed inside the lodge.

There were two women at the reception desk, one with long brown hair who looked about my age, the other with curly gray hair and a grandmotherly air. The younger one waved me up, and I took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing my story.

“I’m so sorry to bother you.” I gave her a sheepish smile. “This is probably stupid, but is there any chance you’ve heard of a place called Vesperwood Academy? It’s supposed to be around here, I think.”

The girl’s eyebrows drew down in thought. “Vesperwood Academy? I don’t think so. Why?”

I’d been thinking about my answer for a while. “This is going to sound weird, but I’m doing an online scavenger hunt. We’re supposed to follow clues leading to a secret location, and whoever gets there first wins a thousand dollars. And bragging rights. I’m already a day into this thing, but I think I’m getting close.”

I gave her another abashed smile, hoping it made me look naive and harmless, and that my cover story helped explain the eau-du-bathroom-floor that clung to my body.

“I know I’m not going to win,” I added, “but I just don’t want to be the last person to get there, you know?”

“Oooh, I like it.” She tapped a finger to her lips, her bright green nail polish glittering. “I feel like I should recognize that name, but nothing’s ringing a bell.” She paused for a second. “I’ve only been working here for five months, though. Before that, I lived in Green Bay. Maybe you need—”

“Kelsey, are you helping this young man check in, or are you just talking his ear off?” the older woman said suddenly, walking over to join us.

“I’m not—uh—not trying to—” I began, but Kelsey cut me off as she jumped and clapped her hands in excitement.

“Gloria! You’re a genius. You’re just the person he needs to talk to.”

Gloria gave Kelsey a doubtful look. “Don’t tell me you’re having trouble logging into the system again. Isn’t your generation supposed to be the tech-savvy one?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s way better.”

I watched with trepidation as Kelsey burbled to Gloria about my supposed online scavenger hunt. Gloria looked skeptical, and a little annoyed, but when she finally accepted that I wasn’t trying to check into a room, she seemed to soften a little.

“Never heard of a place called Vesperwood, though,” she said when Kelsey finished. “You say it’s a school?”

“Maybe?” I shrugged apologetically. “Like I said, it’s this online thing with clues we’re supposed to follow. I’m not actually sure what it is.”

“What are the clues?” Kelsey asked, her eyes alight.

“Um, well, they’re—I mean, I guess I can just show you.” For what felt like the two-hundredth time that day, I took my phone out and pulled up the mood-board. I was down to ten percent battery. I passed my phone across the desk for Kelsey and Gloria to see.

“Oh, this is hard.” Kelsey frowned at the screen. “I don’t recognize any of that.”

“I hope you’re not serious.” Gloria shook her head, pointing at the picture of the statue. “That’s right outside. If you’ve never noticed it before, you need to have your eyes checked.”

“Is it?” Kelsey’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, wait, yeah. Of course it is. I’m so stupid.” She frowned down at my phone again. “But I’m like, pretty sure I’ve never seen any of these other things.” She glanced up at me. “I wish we could help you more.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gloria said tartly. “You may not be able to help him, but I can.”

“Wait, really?” I said at the same time as Kelsey.

Gloria nodded, then tapped a finger against one of the pictures. “I’d bet anything that’s a piece of cherry cream pie from the Balsam Inn. I’ve known Lola for thirty-eight years, Lord help me, and the woman is so proud of her pies I could smack her.”

Kelsey gaped. I did too.

“Brings one to every damn bridge night, then expects you to stand there, praising her to high heaven, like she hasn’t brought the same pie every second Saturday for three decades. Refuses to talk about anything else until she’s wallowed in compliments like a pig in mud.”

I looked at the picture Gloria had tapped—it showed a slice of pie, red cherries glistening, with a sky-high heap of whipped cream balanced perilously on top.

“Really?” I repeated. “You’re sure?”

Gloria made a vexed sound in the back of her throat. “I’m sure. You’d be sure too, if you’d been forced to choke down that tooth-rotting excuse for a dessert as many times as I have.” She looked up at me. “Lola Lonergan works the lunch shift at the Balsam Inn in Pointe Claudette, right up there on the lake. Does all the baking. I’d bet money that’s one of hers.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said. “That’s—that’s amazing. Seriously. I didn’t expect anyone to know—”

“Do you think it’ll help you win?” Kelsey interjected.

“Win?” I blinked. “Oh, right. The scavenger hunt.” I’d forgotten my story for a second. “Um, I don’t know. I guess it depends on how soon I can get there. I should probably head back out to the road and see if I can find anyone heading that way.”

“ Or you could wait twenty minutes and let me take you when my shift ends,” Kelsey said, grinning.

“Do you live in that direction?”

“No, but honestly, I don’t have anything better to do.” She laughed. “You just have to promise to tag me in your post if you win. I’m trying to build my brand.”

I didn’t even use social media, but now didn’t seem like the right time to mention that. I just nodded and agreed, and an hour later, we were pulling up to the tiniest town I’d ever seen–which was saying something, considering where I’d grown up.

Pointe Claudette, Wisconsin consisted of a general store, a gas station that had already closed for the day, and the Balsam Inn, a ramshackle wooden building that looked like a cross between a Swiss chalet and a haunted dentist’s office. It also looked like it might fall over in a stiff breeze.

Deep snow blanketed the roof, and icicles hung off the eaves. A set of rickety wooden stairs led up to a screen door with torn mesh on the second floor—God, I hoped that wasn’t where the rooms were, if I ended up staying the night.

A faint, flickering green sign announced that the inn had vacancies. A second, much brighter sign announced that they had Bud Light. I supposed that was probably the bigger draw.

Kelsey had gotten a text from her boyfriend on the drive, so with a final wave and a promise to add her to my online contacts, I hopped out of the car and watched her disappear back the way we’d come. I was alone in the dark, just me and the Balsam Inn and a night wind that promised snow.

A smaller, just as rickety set of three steps led to the main entrance. I climbed them, and the smell of fryer oil hit me as soon as I opened the door. It was disorientingly familiar at first, until the scent of sawdust and spilled beer invaded my nostrils too. That wasn’t quite so reminiscent of Carla’s Diner.

The Balsam Inn was as much a bar as a place to spend the night, I realized as I stepped inside. There was a pool table by the far wall and a dart board underneath a taxidermied stag’s head in the corner. There was only one patron, other than me—a greasy-looking man at the far end of the room, with chin-length dark hair that clung to his neck. He was smoking a cigarette, and he stared at me balefully when we made eye contact.

I jerked my gaze away and looked at the bar instead. There was a display case of baked goods at one end, and a big, old-fashioned cash register at the other. The wall behind the bar displayed rows of liquor bottles and a massive coffee urn. The two taps I could see advertised Miller and Leinenkugel. So much for that Budweiser sign.

A little bell had jangled as I’d opened the door, and the man behind the bar turned to wave at me cheerfully. He was much older than the greasy guy. Seventy, maybe, with white hair and a big, bushy beard.

“Hey there, traveler,” he said as I approached. “What can I do you for?”

His tone was jovial, and between that and his pot belly, he looked like nothing so much as Santa Claus—if Santa Claus wore Hawaiian shirts.

“How do you know I’m a traveler?” I asked, suddenly wary.

“‘Cause we’ve got seventy-three full-time residents in Pointe Claudette, and you ain’t one of ‘em.” The bartender grinned.

That was a good point. I slid onto a bar stool. “Fair enough.”

“Want a beer?” he asked, picking up a pint glass and nodding at the taps.

I flushed. “I’m not twenty-one.”

“An honest one,” he said with a laugh. “That’s a rare commodity these days. Well, how about a pop, then?”

I agreed. He was so friendly, I would have felt bad saying no. Besides, aside from the packet of cookies Kelsey had given me from the reception desk at Silver Waters, I hadn’t had anything to eat since the candy bar this morning. I could use the energy.

“Tom,” the man said, sticking out his hand.

“Cory,” I said, taking it. “Nice to meet you.”

“So what brings you up here, Cory?” Tom asked as he set a bottle of cherry cola down on the bar. “You don’t look like much of an ice fisher.”

“Yeah, not so much.” I swallowed. There was no reason not to ask straight out. I just had no idea what I’d do if Tom said no. There was nowhere else to go.

“I uh—well, this might sound stupid, but I’m looking for—that is, have you ever heard of a place called Vesperwood? Vesperwood Academy?”

Tom went silent, giving me a long, appraising look. Finally, he nodded.

“Shoulda guessed.” His voice was soft. “Don’t know why I didn’t. Ain’t the right time of year, but anyone with eyes can tell you’re not here for snow-mobiling or hunting or any of that stuff.”

“Should’ve guessed what?” I asked.

“Unless you’re one of those hunters,” he continued, a wry smile on his lips. “Don’t much like them, to tell you the truth. But I suppose it’d be better for you if you were. Better than being the ones they hunt, anyway.”

“Hunt?” I said, gaping. I’d finally found someone who knew what I was talking about, and I was even more lost.

“If you want to get out there tonight, though, you’d better get going. Big storm coming in.”

Tom gestured towards the window and I turned to look. Fat flakes were swirling down outside. A shiver ran along my spine.

“Make it out where?” I asked, wariness creeping into my voice. All his talk about hunting had set me on edge.

“The school,” he said, giving me a quizzical look. “That’s where you’re going, ain’t it?”

“I…guess?” I grabbed the bottle to give myself something to do, then set it down immediately. I was too confused to drink. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Is the school Vesperwood Academy? Is it close to here? Who are the hunters you’re talking about? I’m definitely not trying to hunt anything. I just—see, there were these pictures, and I was trying to find where they lead, but I…”

I pulled my phone out, then trailed off. I wasn’t sure if showing him the pictures would clear things up, or just make everything more confusing.

“Oh, you are a new one.” Tom let out a quiet laugh. “I always forget how green some of you are, when you first arrive. Here, let me see that.”

I extended my phone across the counter, but he shook his head and walked around to my side of the bar.

“Better light over here,” he said, coming to stand just to my left. I tipped my phone towards him, illuminated in the yellow light of the fixture above us.

“Right there.” He jabbed a finger at one of the pictures on the mood-board. “Those pines. They’re just up the road, on the right. Just before it swings down to Angler’s Rest.”

I stared. The picture Tom was pointing at was of two clumps of trees, swirled in mist. There might have been a road, or path, between them, but it was so foggy, it was hard to tell. I’d thought it was just one more moody photo of the woods.

He kept talking, his voice faint enough that I didn’t think anyone more than two feet away could hear us. Certainly not the man on the other side of the room.

“That bunch on the left has three trees growing so close together, you’d swear they were one organism,” Tom said. “And that one on the right was hit by lightning. Split the trunk in half, so long ago that nobody alive now remembers it ever being different. You can’t miss the entrance. Well, if you’re meant to see it, that is.”

“Meant to—”

“Aftershave?” Tom interrupted with a complete non-sequitur.

I turned to him. Was he standing closer to me?

“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly.

“You’ve got this sort of…scent about you,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself. “Can’t quite put my finger on it. Like cloves, maybe. Or pipe smoke. Pipe smoke and black coffee, on a rainy morning. That’s it.”

“I’m sorry?” I was utterly baffled. Not to hear that I smelled. I knew I did, after the past twenty-four hours I’d lived through. But I couldn’t imagine I smelled anything like cloves , or anything else he’d mentioned.

“It ain’t a bad smell.” Tom paused, then looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. His pupils were dilated, and he inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling.

“Ain’t a bad smell at all,” he repeated. He took another step towards me, so close we were almost touching.

Out of nowhere, I realized I was hard again. My cheeks flushed. If Tom looked down, there was no way he wouldn’t notice.

Please don’t look down , I begged silently. Please don’t look down. Please…don’t…please…

The thought disintegrated in an eddy of smoke, my brain as foggy as a bathroom mirror after a shower, and I found myself spreading my legs wider on the barstool. A drowsiness was creeping over me, making the whole evening feel vaguely dreamlike.

I struggled to think clearly. What the hell was I doing? Flirting with Tom? More than flirting, even, and in public? What about the other guy in the bar? What if he noticed?

Tom stepped into the space I’d created with my legs, and I found it hard to remember my objections. God, I was tired. All I could think about was how close he was, and how badly I wanted a nap. I shrugged out of my coat, letting it hit the floor. Tom brought a hand to my thigh.

Please look down , I thought, then blinked. What? No, that wasn’t what I’d meant. That wasn’t what I wanted at all.

Or was it?

“You’re not in a hurry, are you?” Tom asked.

I opened my mouth to say that I was, actually, that I had somewhere very important to be, something I was running late for, in fact, and thanks very much for the pop but I needed to be going.

“No, no hurry.” The words rolled off my tongue, languid and sleep-laced.

Dimly, I sensed that this was weird. It was like some alien part of my brain had taken over. But I couldn’t quite muster the energy to fight it.

I wasn’t attracted to men, and I certainly wasn’t attracted to a man I barely knew, a man older than my father. A man who kept talking about hunting in a way that made me pretty sure he wasn’t talking about deer.

Except, fuck, maybe I was? I couldn’t deny that my cock was aching, straining up against the denim of my pants. I bit my lip and smiled, looking into Tom’s eyes. His hand slid northward, then palmed my cock through my jeans, and I swear I almost came. What I did do was moan, loud enough that the greasy guy definitely heard it, but I found I didn’t care what he might think anymore.

“That’s good news,” Tom said, giving my cock a squeeze. “Just what I wanted to hear.” His hand slid farther up, reaching my waist, then dipping underneath the hem of my sweatshirt. “Just give me one minute to close up, and you and I can continue this someplace a little more comfortable.”

His hand touched my stomach. It was colder than I expected, and I jumped, suddenly free of whatever spell I’d been under. I scrambled off the stool.

“Uh, sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—that is—it’s not you. I just—” I looked around the bar wildly, not even sure what I was looking for. The door came into view. An exit. That was what I needed.

“I just realized I need to—that is—th-thank you!”

I dashed across the bar and threw the door open, running down the wooden steps to the parking lot before stopping short. Fuck, it was cold out here. There was an inch of fresh snow on the ground. I’d forgotten my jacket inside, but there was no way I could go back in and get it right now. Not with my head this fuzzy.

My eyes caught sight of a sign that said RESTROOMS , with an arrow pointing around the corner. Praying the restrooms weren’t locked, I jogged to the back of the inn. Two doors indicated bathrooms, men’s and women’s, on the back of the building. I tugged on the men’s room door. It opened with a loud creak.

I slipped inside, then turned around. No lock on the door. Shit.

The bathroom was all one room, with a sink, a urinal, and a single stall in the back corner. Stall it was. I hurried inside it, flipped the lock, then leaned up against the cold brick wall on the far side.

That stall lock wasn’t going to do much good if someone was determined to get to me. But I wasn’t scared of Tom. Or at least, he wasn’t my biggest fear. My biggest fear was myself .

I didn’t trust myself to stay away from him. From any man, at this point. My dreams were bad enough. At least I could blame those on randomly firing neurons. But I was awake right now. I pinched the inside of my wrist and yelped, looking down at the angry red marks left by my nails.

Yep, definitely awake. And definitely still hard, I realized with a sinking feeling. Why was I suddenly hard all the time? Around men, in particular?

I’d never been that sexual a person before. Never even had much interest in jerking off. But for the past day—well, week—I mean, okay, the past few months, if I were being honest—I’d found myself wound tighter and tighter, a hair-trigger away from getting hard all the time.

What was happening to me? Why was I like this? Why did I like this?

Because that was the crux of the issue. It might be freaking me out, might make my skin crawl, imagining what my dad would say if he knew, but…I liked this. I liked it.

‘ It ’ being…men.

My stomach knotted in shame, but my hand was already moving to unzip my jeans, freeing my cock. God, I was so hard. So close to the edge, from nothing more than the presence of another man, and a single squeeze to my cock.

My cock, which was currently begging for attention. I couldn’t stop myself from giving it what it needed. My mind ran back over the past few minutes. Tom’s sturdy shoulders. The thickness of his arms, the weight of his belly. The way he’d looked at me so hungrily.

Fuck, it felt good to be wanted.

What if I hadn’t run away? What if I’d had the courage to stay, to admit what I wanted? The courage to admit it to myself, and someone else?

I stroked myself fast and hard, eyes closed as I reimagined the scene. Tom’s hand on my cock, then sliding up my shirt. In my mind, I didn’t jump. I spread my legs wider, then pulled him close, bringing my hands to his husky chest. He knew what I wanted, without me even having to say.

He picked me up and laid me down on the bar, pulling my jeans and boxers off in one smooth motion. One hand went to my cock, the other slid in between my legs, back between my ass cheeks to—

A crash brought me back to reality, and I realized someone else had just opened the bathroom door. There was thumping, and fumbling, and a slick, wet noise, followed by the low rumble of someone’s voice, too quiet for me to hear clearly.

Oh, shit. What if it was Tom? What if he’d come looking for me after all? What if he was slicking his cock up right now, and he was about to burst into the stall and make this all too real? It was one thing to fantasize about it, but to really do it.

And I couldn’t. I needed to get out of here, before he could get close to me and mess with my head again. I stumbled to the stall door and threw open the lock, then stopped in surprise.

It wasn’t Tom.

It was two men, in fact. One of them was the greasy-looking guy from the bar, a fresh cigarette tucked behind his ear. The other was a man I’d never seen before. Early thirties, maybe, and tall, with shoulders that made him look like a lumberjack. The flannel and five o’clock shadow didn’t hurt either. And his face—it was almost hard to take it in, how masculine he was. And handsome.

Handsome ? The question flitted across my mind. Since when do you find guys handsome ? But I was too caught up to care. The guy was gorgeous, with high cheekbones that looked carved out of wood, a hawkish nose, and dark brows over deep hazel eyes. You could have gone rock-climbing on his jaw.

But that wasn’t even what I was staring at, not truly. No, what had really caught my attention was what the two men were doing. Because I knew what was making that slick sound, now. It was the greasy man, down on his knees, with the lumberjack’s cock in his mouth.

The greasy man paused for the briefest second, flicking a glance in my direction. The lumberjack’s hand was tangled in his hair, and he tugged on it, bringing the man’s gaze back to him.

“Did I tell you to stop?” he asked, his tone emotionless.

The greasy man cast an angry look first at the lumberjack, then at me. But a second later, he went back to sucking off the lumberjack like I wasn’t even there.

“Good boy,” the lumberjack said, and the greasy man’s cheeks turned pink. He looked pleased in spite of himself.

I just stared, not able to process what I was seeing. This wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fantasy. It was really happening, in front of me, right now. Chills and heat washed across my body at the same time.

I was so embarrassed. For myself, for the lumberjack, and definitely for the greasy man on his knees. But at the same time…

At the same time, I wanted that.

Wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. To be in that man’s place. To be down on my knees, sucking off the lumberjack, sweet humiliation running through me. I wanted to be the one bringing him pleasure.

Wanted to be told I was good.

The lumberjack didn’t seem bothered by what was happening at all. If anything, he seemed amused. He stroked the greasy man’s neck and looked directly at me.

“Are you next in line?” he asked, his voice like honey over gravel.

I came on the spot.

Hands-free, which I hadn’t even known was possible. I hadn’t quite tucked myself away before opening the stall door, and the tip of my cock was still poking out of my boxers, my jeans still loose around my hips. Ropes of cum splattered onto the floor.

“If you’re going to join us,” the lumberjack said, “you’ll need to get on your knees. You’ll get hard again soon enough.”

I pushed past them and ran out of the bathroom, the lumberjack’s amused laugh echoing behind me.

Shoving myself back in my jeans, I made it to the front of the Balsam Inn. I turned in a circle, wondering what to do. I couldn’t go back into the bathroom. I didn’t want to go back in the bar either. But I couldn’t stay here.

Vesperwood. Just up the road, on the right. You can’t miss the entrance. Well, if you’re meant to see it, that is.

It was all I had. I started down the road, settling into a steady jog. It was freezing, literally, and another inch of snow covered the ground. Wherever I was going, I’d better get there fast.

At first, I worried about getting hit by a car. The road wound up and down in the rocky terrain, and there was no shoulder. But after a few minutes, I began to wonder when the last time was that anyone had driven down the road. There were no tire marks in the snow. For all I knew, I was the only one out here for miles.

How far away was this place, anyway? Tom hadn’t actually said. Had I passed by those trees already? Were they still up ahead? And what had he been getting at, with his ‘ if you’re meant to see ‘em ?’

A thunderclap went off in the sky above, a crack followed by a low boom. Thunder in a snowstorm. I hadn’t known that was possible either. Maybe it was a car coming up the road, or a truck backfiring, or—

Fuck.

It wasn’t a thunderclap at all. It was the same sound I’d heard last night, outside of Red’s Motel. And sure enough, when I looked back, I could see a dark figure on the road behind me, its cape or smoke or whatever it was swirling against the white blizzard. As I watched, wings stretched out behind its back.

It saw me at the same time I saw it, and it came for me.

Oh, fuck.

I sped up. I should have just stayed at the Balsam Inn. Or in the bathroom. Or back in Kelsey’s car—I should have just been an awkward third wheel with her boyfriend. Any of those situations would have been better than this one.

A sick feeling of dread filled me any time I looked at the monster. I wanted to shriek. To cower in terror. To disappear.

I couldn’t let it catch me. Couldn’t let it touch me.

I’d been jogging before, but I was outright running now. It was dangerous. Forget cars—the road was slick enough now that every few steps, my feet slipped sideways. It was an open question, whether that thing would catch me or if I’d fall and crack my head open first.

Where was that raven when I needed it? Had I offended it last night, not saying thank you? Was it an Iowa-specific species? Or worse—had I imagined the whole thing?

You’re crazy, you’re crazy, you’re crazy , chanted the little voice inside my brain. How do you know any of this is real, how do you know you’re not in an asylum somewhere, making this all up ?

And then I saw it—a curve in the road and an opening to the right, underneath a dark canopy of evergreens. I couldn’t see the path or driveway or whatever it was through the snow. But there was a break in the trees, at least, and they matched what Tom had described. Three in a clump on the left, and a lightning-split trunk on the right.

I could hear the monster gaining on me, hear it growl something in its guttural language. It was going to catch me. I had no idea where the path between the trees went, but there was no way I could get to the end before that thing reached me. It was going to catch me, touch me, use its claws to do unspeakable things.

My mind gibbered in fear as I sprinted toward the gap in the trees, but at the last second, my left foot slipped out from under me. I fell, my body hitting rough gravel instead of asphalt. Gasping for breath, I turned and tried to push myself up—and stopped.

The monster was gone. I couldn’t hear it, couldn’t see it. There was nothing. The road behind me was empty.

I didn’t wait around to make sense of that. Twice now, it had appeared out of nowhere, intent on killing me. Who was to say it wouldn’t come back a third time, and bring its friends? Who was to say that next time, it wouldn’t use those wings to snatch me up and fly me God knew where?

I pushed myself up to my hands and knees, then rose unsteadily to my feet. I was shivering now, my teeth chattering. I tried to start running again, but my steps felt heavy. My lungs were starting to seize up, each breath a shard of ice in my chest. My heart felt like it would burst if I didn’t lie down right then.

A shape loomed up out of the snow. A massive shape, a building, with a grand entrance in the center of its long rectangular bulk. Torches burned on either side of a set of broad stone steps. I shuffled towards them, my legs barely functioning anymore. My arms were aflame with cold, the folds of my hoodie stiff with frozen sweat.

I reached the bottom step, got one foot up onto the stone, and my body gave way. I collapsed in the snow, my vision going black around the edges. Despite the cold, I was starting to feel strangely warm.

Something round and dark hovered above my face. A person, shrouded in a hood, I thought vaguely. It was my last coherent thought.

As I drifted into unconsciousness, a cool and measured voice spoke.

“Welcome to Vesperwood, Cory. We’ve been waiting for you.”