Chapter 12
Jillian
––––––––
The second crack of thunder didn't sound like thunder at all. It was deeper and lower, as if the ground itself groaned beneath Everstill. Jillian jerked her head toward the window. The sky, moments ago a dull gray, had an amber hue.
Moe was already moving.
He grabbed his jacket, then hers, tossing it to her with a sharp, "We need to go. Now."
Her pulse raced. "Is this—?"
"The storm," he said, voice tight.
Another rumble rolled through the town, shaking the walls. The lights flickered. The air thickened, heavy and electric, like the moment before a lightning strike.
Moe took her hand and pulled her toward the door.
"Get your shoes on," he said. "We're taking the Harley."
She shoved her feet into her sneakers, fingers trembling. "But how do you know where to go?"
"We need to get out in the open, on the street, away from the center of town. It hits hardest there."
Hits? Like a thing? Like a force?
The wind slammed against the house, rattling the windows. She screamed, startled by the violence. The sky swirled, clouds twisting into a spiral that made her stomach drop. It was just like when he'd kidnapped her, and they arrived in Everstill.
Moe yanked open the door. The wind ripped it from his hand.
"Stay close," he shouted, linking his fingers through hers. "Don't let go of me."
The wind whipped her hair into her face and dust stung her skin. The storm held the whole town in its grip.
Moe pulled her toward the motorcycle parked at the curb. He swung a leg over and pulled her in front of him.
"Jillian, now!" He grabbed her leg, lifting it over his lap.
"I can't." She sobbed, fighting to turn around.
"No." He lifted her until she spread her legs. "I need you facing me. Wrap your arms around my waist and bury your face against my chest."
She scooted closer until she slid off the gas tank and rested on his thighs. The moment she touched him, she clung to him. The wind screamed, the sky churned, the world tilted on its axis, but Moe was solid, warm, and unmoving in the storm.
And deep in her chest, that strange, impossible certainty that if the world split open beneath them, he'd still find a way to keep her from falling.
Not because he promised. Not because he said the right words. But because something in him recognized something in her, like two pieces that had finally found where they fit. She didn't understand it.
"I trust you," she yelled over the noise.
Moe kissed her forehead and then jerked his head to the side. Unable to process the kiss, she followed his gaze.
A figure stumbled out of the swirling dust. She squinted. It was Copper.
His coat snapped violently in the wind, his hair whipped back, his eyes wide in his hurry to reach them.
"Moe," Copper shouted, voice nearly swallowed by the storm. "You're making a huge mistake."
The motorcycle vibrated to life underneath her. Moe grabbed the handlebars.
"No, I'm not," he shouted.
Copper staggered closer, fighting the wind. "You don't understand what it wants!"
Jillian's blood ran cold. What it wants?
The wind howled, rising to a pitch that made her ears ring. The sky above them pulsed. Once. Twice. Almost like a heartbeat.
Copper pointed toward the swirling clouds, his voice straining over the noise. "It's not stable. You take her through now, and you won't—"
A blast of wind cut him off, shoving him back a step.
Moe revved the engine. "Hold on to me," he yelled over his shoulder.
Jillian tightened her grip, heart pounding so hard it hurt. The air around them crackled, the pressure building until her skin prickled.
Copper's voice tore through the storm one last time. "Moe, don't!"
The sky split open.
A column of dark fog rolled down from the clouds, slamming into the center of Everstill with a loud enough sound to crack the street in half.
Moe gunned the engine. She held on, trusting him as the storm swallowed them whole.
He took them straight into the shadow.
Disoriented from the darkness, she squeezed her eyelids shut as the wind roared around them. A weight pressed down on her skin, her ribs, her lungs.
She couldn't breathe.
She couldn't think.
She couldn't hear anything except the storm screaming in her ears.
The motorcycle bucked beneath them, skidding sideways as if the ground had vanished. Jillian's arms tightened around Moe's waist, fingers digging into his jacket. He twisted, bracing her with one arm while fighting the handlebars with the other.
"Hold—" he shouted, but the wind tore the words apart.
The air thickened, turning syrupy, dragging at her limbs. Her stomach lurched as if she were falling and floating at the same time. The pressure built around her, squeezing her chest, her skull, her thoughts.
Something brushed against her.
Not wind. Not air. It was cold and caressed her.
It slid along her skin. A whisper of sensation like fingers trailing through her mind, searching, testing, tasting.
She gasped and clutched Moe harder, lifting her chin to see how he was faring against the storm.
His face was a blur of determination and fear. She locked her ankles behind his back, gripping tighter to the one thing in the world that made her feel safe.
"Jillian!" His voice was raw, torn by the storm. "Stay with me."
She tried with everything she had, using her desire to see her mom again. She locked herself around him. But the darkness swallowed everything—the motorcycle, the road, the sky, even Moe's outline. The only assurance that he was still with her was his solid body pressed against her.
The pressure intensified, crushing and pulling at the same time. Her ears popped. Her vision blurred. Her heartbeat stuttered, then raced, then stuttered again.
Something inside the storm pulled at her.
Not her body. Her self.
Like it was trying to peel her away from her own skin.
She cried out, but the sound vanished into the shadow.
Moe's arm circled her back painfully. "I've got you."
The storm didn't like that.
It yanked harder.
Her thoughts scattered like leaves in a gale. Memories flashed—her mother's smile, the smell of coffee, the feel of Moe's hand in her hand, the sound of her name, the comfort of a hug.
The storm tugged at each one, as if deciding which pieces to keep.
Jillian's vision dimmed. Her fingers slipped.
"Moe!"
He roared and hauled her against him, bending her backward and pressing her against the gas tank of the bike, shielding her with his body as the world convulsed.
The blackness shattered.
The pressure vanished.
The ground slammed up beneath them.
Jillian screamed.