The Bedlam Boys: Complete Series

Prologue

Branches snatched and tore at me, ripping red seams on my arms, cheeks, and exposed legs.

Legs? Why were my legs bare?

I jumped off a landing, splashing down in a puddle of mud that clung to cover my pale skin, and I still running, running, running.

Why were my legs bare?

Because I ran.

They came and I ran so far and fast, I had no time to put on pants. The kettle left screaming on the stove. My phone charging by my bedside. My sister soundly asleep in her bed. All left behind.

Why? Why am I running?

The thought passed and I picked up speed. Muscles burning, lungs aching, my feet dotted barely there imprints on the soft earth. I was flying. Flying away from the monsters.

Who?!

Who was chasing me? Why was I running?

I snapped my neck around, searching the endless dark for shifting shadows. Who was coming for me?

Cold bit into my skin, freezing the mud that was my only cover. No owls to chant my way. No creatures to skitter from my presence. I ran too far into the forest—farther than the animals dared to tread, and where the trees drew closer together as if to share warmth.

I had to be safe. No one would come this far. No one was chasing me.

I slowed, stumbling out into a clearing, the release from the pressing trees that open their arms to the edge of the cliff.

I stepped to the rim, peering down to the gawping abyss below.

This cliff has a name. A funny one that always made me laugh.

I laughed then. Huge, racking guffaws that stole the little air left in my aching chest.

I was fine. I was safe. Whatever was chasing me was gone now. I could go home.

I turned, and walked into their arms.

A hand clamped on my mouth, penning in the cry before it could leave my lips.

“Does the kookaburra laugh or does it scream?” Their mouth pressed to my ear, pouring their words directly into my soul. “Does the mighty kingfisher cry or does it dream? Where are you, kookaburra?”

“Please, stop,” I rasped. “I didn’t mean to. I never wanted this.”

They couldn’t hear me. Their hand swallowed my plea as the rest of them took everything else.

“Tell me, oh, tell me,” they whispered. “Why is nothing as it seems?”

Hands cradled my back and shoved. I soared over the edge. For a short, glorious moment, I was flying.

Then I fell. Fell to the bottom of the cliff with the funny name.

And I laughed.