Chapter 10

I pulled out my phone and opened a rideshare app, my hands still shaking slightly as I typed in my address. The wait for the car felt eternal, every shadow making me jump, every sound making me spin around to look behind me. But finally, headlights appeared on the road and a black sedan pulled up, and I practically threw myself into the back seat.

The driver tried to make small talk at first, asking about my night and whether I'd had fun at the party, but I must have given off some kind of vibe that made him stop because he eventually fell silent and just focused on driving. I watched the trees pass by outside the window, watched the forest give way to suburbs and then to the more urban streets of the French Quarter, and tried to convince myself that I was safe now, that whatever had happened back there was over and done with.

By the time we pulled up outside my apartment building, the sky was starting to lighten with the first hints of dawn. I checked my phone as I climbed out of the car and saw that it was nearly four in the morning. I'd been gone all night, had lived through what felt like a lifetime of terror in just a few hours, and now I was back to the ordinary world like nothing had happened.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor slowly, my legs feeling like lead and my whole body aching from the running and the climbing and the sheer stress of it all. I was so focused on just putting one foot in front of the other that I didn't notice Mrs. Rodriguez sitting in the hallway until I was almost on top of her. I jerked to a stop, my heart leaping into my throat for what felt like the hundredth time that night, before I recognized my elderly neighbor and forced myself to relax.

She smiled apologetically and pushed herself to her feet with a slight groan. "Good morning, Lysander. Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Can't sleep much at my age, you know. Figured I'd come out here and enjoy the cool morning air." She looked me up and down, taking in my disheveled appearance and the dirt on my clothes with the kind of knowing expression that seemed to come with years of life experience. "Out late, huh? Must have been quite a party. Was it far from here?"

I nodded, fumbling for my keys and trying to end this conversation as quickly as possible without being rude. Mrs. Rodriguez was nice, always had been, but right now I just wanted to get inside and lock the door and maybe never come out again. "Yeah, friend's birthday party. It was out by the old campgrounds, so pretty far. I'm beat, Mrs. Rodriguez. I should probably get some sleep before work tomorrow."

I turned toward my door, key already extended toward the lock, when Mrs. Rodriguez spoke again. "Was that your girlfriend? Or just a friend?" Her voice was casual, curious in the way that neighbors always were about each other's business, but something in her tone made me freeze.

I turned back slowly, my hand tightening around my keys until the metal bit into my palm. "What?" The word came out rougher than I'd intended, my throat suddenly tight with renewed fear.

Mrs. Rodriguez pointed down toward the parking lot, her expression puzzled by my reaction. "That woman who was just standing down there. Very pale, that one. Too pale, I thought, like she might be sick. She was watching you when you got out of the car, just standing there staring up at the building. I was going to call down and ask if she needed help, but then she was gone. Moved awful fast for someone who looked so delicate."

I followed her pointing finger with my eyes, looking down at the parking lot that was now completely empty except for the few resident cars that were always there. There was no one standing there now, no pale woman watching and waiting, but I could feel her presence like a physical weight pressing down on me. She'd followed me. She'd known where I lived, had followed me all the way home, and she'd been standing down there watching me like a predator watches prey.

My hands were shaking again as I turned back to my door, shoving the key into the lock with more force than necessary. "I don't have a girlfriend, Mrs. Rodriguez. I don't know who that was. I need to go now. Have a good morning." I didn't wait for her response, just pushed my way inside and slammed the door behind me, my fingers fumbling with the deadbolt and the chain lock and wishing desperately that I had more locks, better locks, locks that could keep out whatever that woman was.

I stood there with my back pressed against the door for a long moment, breathing hard and trying to convince myself that I was safe, that she couldn't get in, that the locks would hold. But I couldn't forget the image of her casually destroying that castle door, couldn't forget the way she'd climbed that wall in silk pajamas without making a sound, couldn't forget the liters of blood sitting in beakers in her laboratory like some kind of sick science experiment.

Eventually, I forced myself to move away from the door and into my bedroom. I set an alarm for seven, knowing I'd need to be up in just a couple of hours for work but too afraid to try sleeping without one. I didn't bother changing out of my dirty clothes, just collapsed onto my bed and curled up under the covers like a child hiding from monsters, my phone clutched in one hand in case I needed to call for help.

Sleep, when it finally came, was fitful and restless. Every time I woke up, which was often, I found myself listening for sounds outside my door, half expecting to hear that soft voice calling my name or the sound of locks being broken.

When my alarm finally went off at seven, I felt like I'd barely slept at all. My body ached, my head pounded, and I had dark circles under my eyes that made me look like I'd been in a fight. But I dragged myself out of bed anyway, because what else was I going to do? Call in sick on a Monday after being out late at a party? That would look great during my probation period.