Chapter 34 Winona Bishop
Chapter thirty-four
Winona Bishop
nothing feels the same — sevenlies
The skies are an enchanting mix of blue and champagne. Still bright, but with a hint of the afternoon sun peeking through the puffy clouds. Trees overhang the plunge pool, encircling it like a fence. The misty sprays of the waterfall are persistent, calming, and burbling.
My fingers strum the wind as I take deep breaths, letting myself enjoy this.
For the first time in a while, nothing crosses my mind.
I’m simply happy.
A smile spreads across my lips, curves around my cheeks, and I feel it reaching my eyes.
I didn’t have to bury my husband far away, along with endless memories. I found him instead. I knew that if I signed this contract and came here, he would come after me if he were alive.
I pull myself up from the towel, stretching my arms above my head. My eyes fall on the duffel bag and widen at the moth resting on top.
My lips part in shock.
No way.
Black witch moth.
I glance from side to side as if the forest has eyes and ears, and it’s just as excited about this as I am. I’m about to shout Reeve’s name when a loud grunt echoes from afar.
My words catch in my throat and are swallowed with a hard gulp.
I roll onto my stomach immediately, kicking my feet to get up. I grab the rifle and clutch it tightly as I press the butt to the crook of my shoulder.
It could be the bear throwing a tantrum. He’s quite sassy when he wants to be.
But most importantly, where is Reeve?
He said he’d be right back, and it’s been a solid fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, since he left.
I cock the rifle.
Maybe he wants to play another game?
Reeve.
I swear, if he makes another trap just to mess with me more, I’m going to unleash all my ninja moves on him, mainly because it’s fun and sexy when he looks up at me while his strong body is between my thighs.
I stop beside several trees with thick trunks and look up into their branches. A sudden chill rakes through me as the treetops turn out to be empty one by one. A shadow spreads across the forest, darkening everything as the sky loses some of the magic it had moments ago.
Reeve is capable of anything, but something feels off.
It’s one thing to play games, but another to leave his radio tossed on the ground. I bend down to pick it up and find a Joker card underneath.
Is that a sick joke?
I replay the conversation with Grandma from the day I signed the contract.
She places a deck of cards on the desk, facing downward.
“Let’s play a game I like to call tricks and punishments. Pick one,” she prompts.
My finger hovers over the cards until one feels right, then I pull it out.
A joker.
“If I flip all these cards around, you will see that each one is a joker,” she smiles, facing them up one by one.
“The thing with jokers is that they’re unreliable.
Unpredictable. Some individuals aspire to become one because it makes them look…
entertaining. Crazy. Tricky. Out of reach.
Homicidal sociopaths. But in reality, we all need a brilliant disguise—a recognizable one that will deliver the message. ”
True.
Jokers carry the element of chance and surprise.
“So, what kind of a joker are you?” I ask playfully, my eyes locked on hers. Romina Bishop can be all of them without batting an eyelash.
“Which one are you?”
My eyes widen as I search for mischief in her eyes. “So what is the punishment?”
She sighs. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
I glance around me again.
Reeve’s silver ring rests among the tall blades of grass. He hasn’t taken that ring off the entire time we’ve been here. I pick it up and notice a carving on the inside.
Sweet Death, I’m coming to collect my reward.
Confusion floods me, and a restless feeling stirs in my stomach.
I’ve seen those words before and heard them coming from his mouth, and I wish they didn’t feel so ominous and dark right now because they seem to take on a new meaning—sacrifice.
Knowing Reeve, he always seems to know something I don’t, yet he constantly leaves a trail of clues and coded words behind him.
What are you up to?
The keys hanging from the necklace around my neck jingle as I straighten up. My fingers instinctively reach up to rub them.
I run back to our camp. Carefully, I remove the moth from the duffel bag, place it on the ground, and then stuff our things inside. I sling it over my shoulder and head back to my tower.
I wave off the buzzing sound next to my ear and shake my head from side to side. I hike up the mountain, hoping I’m going in the right direction. Rows of trees pass me by as I push forward.
Nerves twist inside me.
I’m worried about Reeve and terrified I might get lost when he needs me most.
Something buzzes near my ears again, and I wave it away. The sting that comes afterward stops me in my tracks. My hand jerks up to cover my neck.
Bees.
My EpiPen is in Reeve’s thigh bag.
I walk past the trap Reeve set for me. Leaves and grass crunch under my boots as I rush to the tower. I have a short window before my allergy worsens.
Sprinting up the incline with short breaths, I finally see the tower coming into view.
I’m almost hyperventilating.
My throat tightens.
The waves crash against the rocks as I tilt my gaze downward.
Where does it end?
My head is spinning.
Shit.
Am I hallucinating?
No.
No.
I need to find Reeve.
He needs me.
“Reeve!” My voice comes out in a raw gasp. I zigzag my way toward the tower when I spot an EpiPen on the ground. I pick up my pace. Just inches from it, I collapse onto the ground. With my arm extended, I reach out, stretching my fingers to their maximum.
Please.
Please just come to me.
“I’m here. It’s going to be okay,” says a soft, manly voice as my vision blurs completely. His shadow gradually approaches as blackness swallows me.
I flutter my eyelids open and wake up as if I had drowned and been brought back to life; a deep breath rushes into my lungs, and my body jerks upright.
“I think there’s more to these notes.”
“They could be a warning.”
“Maybe they are connected to the games Third Eye forced kids to play. The Halloween Killers have been doing it for years, and they work together.”
“This seems like the next level, not something they’ve already done.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.”
Two familiar voices debate.
“So it’s still a game of survival,” one says decidedly.
“Like zombie apocalypse,” the other continues excitedly.
“Fuck no, I don’t want to be part of those games in the real world.”
There’s no time.
We have to find Reeve.
I know something is wrong.
I can feel it gripping my bones, pulling the muscles and tendons tightly around them.
I press my palms flat against the rag I’m sitting on and carefully lift myself up. Still dizzy, I try to find my balance as I stand.
“Listen to this note,” the softer voice between the two begins, “Four elements. Choose wisely. Do you want to be destructive or play kindly?”
My notes.
“Okay, so this person is a lunatic.”
“That’s not helping. Let’s get inside their heads.”
“Fine. I choose air.”
“Why air?”
I focus on their figures. They wear dark techwear, vests, combat boots, and rifles slung over their backs.
Blonde mullet guy shoves a magazine into his gun.
His tone is playful. “Maybe being invisible has its perks. The air is a force of nature that can’t be wrecked because it has the element of surprise.
One day, it can be chill and friendly. The next day, it can be a hurricane or a tornado.
” He tucks the gun into his holster and lowers his forearms onto the counter, leaning on them as a grin follows.
Mitch.
“So, you’re telling me to become unexpected.” The green-haired one questions with a sassy smirk behind a laptop screen, typing a mile a minute on the keyboard. His hazel eyes widen with alarm as the minutes tick away.
Braxton.
“It’s all up to you, but never be predictable,” I reply, inching forward and grabbing the glass of water on the counter. I chug it down in seconds. “Reeve taught me that.”
Rule number two.
“Winona, are you okay?”
“Do you need something?”
They ask in unison, backing away from their spots, and move closer to me. They exchange a knowing glance before shifting their gaze back to me.
Their concerned eyes silently plead, communicate, and ask for something they refuse to say or simply can’t. A promise to someone we both know.
Reeve.
They know something; otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.
“I’m good,” I reply.
“God, you and Reeve have nine lives, don’t you?” Mitch jokes right away, attempting to lighten the tension hanging over us. I’ve been told he’s the chatterbox who can talk nonstop.
I give him a small grin, my eyes flick to Braxton, and amusement tinged with annoyance radiates from him.
They’re not my friends; they’re Reeve’s. He claims he trusts them, so let’s see if that holds true.
“I have a black cat energy,” I reply to Mitch, placing the glass of water back on the counter. “Where is he?”
They exchange another loaded look. Braxton’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck while Mitch takes a few steps back and slumps against the nearest wall, his eyes fixed on the floor.
“Spill,” I demand. My voice is smoky and strained. My throat is sore.
“He told me to show you this,” Braxton says first, fishing a phone from his front pocket. “He made a video for you.”
I don’t like those words at all.
My brows furrow in confusion. Agitation gnaws at me. I feel panicked, stressed, terrified, and…
I ball my hands into fists at my sides in anger, nails digging into my skin.
Braxton presses play and turns the phone toward me. Reeve’s face appears. The background looks just like his room in the tower. The platinum blonde streaks falling to his forehead seem fresher.
This was taken a couple of months ago.