Chapter 9

Behind me, I heard nothing. No footsteps, no calls for me to stop, no sounds of pursuit. Just silence, as complete and absolute as the darkness of the forest I was running toward. But somehow, that silence was worse than any chase could have been, because it meant she was letting me go. It meant she could have stopped me if she'd wanted to, but she'd chosen not to. And that thought, more than anything else that had happened that night, terrified me beyond words.

I crashed into the forest without looking back, branches tearing at my clothes and face as I ran blindly through the darkness, with no idea where I was going and no plan beyond getting away. The rational part of my brain knew this was stupid, knew I was more likely to hurt myself running through an unfamiliar forest in the dark than I was to actually escape whatever danger I thought I was fleeing. But rationality had long since abandoned me, leaving only pure animal panic in its wake.

I ran until my lungs burned and my legs trembled, until I could barely see straight from exhaustion and fear, until I finally collapsed against a tree trunk and slid down to sit in the dirt, gasping for air and trying desperately not to throw up. My whole body was shaking, my clothes soaked with sweat despite the cool night air, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was probably in shock. What had I just escaped from? What kind of person was that woman? And why, despite everything I'd seen, despite the blood and the impossible strength and the wrongness of it all, did some small, stupid part of me still want to go back?

I sat there for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, trying to get my breathing under control and waiting for my heart to stop trying to hammer its way out of my chest. The forest around me was still eerily quiet, none of the usual night sounds that should have been there, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Every shadow seemed to hide something dangerous, every rustle of leaves made me flinch and press myself harder against the tree trunk. I needed to move, needed to find my way back to the party and the safety of other people, but I was so disoriented I didn't even know which direction to go.

Then, cutting through the oppressive silence, I heard it. The distant pop and crackle of fireworks, followed by cheers and music. Marcus's birthday party. It had to be well past midnight now, the fireworks probably marking the final countdown before everyone headed home, and the sound was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. I forced myself to my feet, my legs protesting every movement, and started moving toward the noise. I didn't run this time, couldn't run, but I walked as fast as my exhausted body would allow, using the intermittent bursts of fireworks as a beacon to guide me through the darkness.

The forest seemed to go on forever, every step feeling like it took me nowhere, but gradually the sounds of the party grew louder and the trees began to thin out. I could see lights now, the glow of the bonfire and the string lights Marcus had hung up, and the sight of them made something tight in my chest finally start to loosen. I stumbled out of the tree line and back into the clearing where the party was still going strong, though I could tell from the scattered cups and the way people were starting to pair off and drift away that things were winding down.

I didn't feel annoyed by the party anymore, didn't feel that desperate need to escape that had driven me into the forest in the first place. Instead, I felt grateful, felt safe in a way I hadn't thought possible just two hours ago. These people, with their loud music and their drunken laughter and their mundane concerns about work and relationships, represented normalcy. They represented a world where women didn't keep liters of blood in their laboratories and didn't break door locks with their bare hands like it was nothing.

Marcus spotted me from across the clearing and waved, his grin wide and slightly unfocused in the way that meant he was pleasantly drunk. "Hey, where'd you run off to? Haven't seen you all night, man." He made his way over to me, and I found myself grabbing him in a tight hug before I could think better of it, my arms wrapping around him and holding on like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly stopped making sense.

He stiffened in surprise for a moment, then relaxed and patted my shoulder, his voice taking on a note of concern. "Whoa, okay. What's going on? You alright?" He didn't push me away, just stood there and let me hold on, and I was grateful for that even though I knew I probably looked ridiculous.

I finally let go and stepped back, shaking my head and trying to pull myself together. Marcus was looking at me with worry now, his earlier cheerfulness fading as he really looked at me and saw whatever it was that showed on my face. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to explain about the castle and the woman and the blood and the impossible strength, wanted to share the burden of what I'd seen so I wouldn't have to carry it alone. But even as I opened my mouth to try, I knew how it would sound. Crazy. Paranoid. Like I'd had too much to drink and let my imagination run wild in the dark forest. No one would believe me, not even Marcus, and I couldn't blame them because I wasn't sure I believed it myself anymore.

"I'm just tired," I said instead, forcing what I hoped was a convincing smile. "Got turned around in the woods for a while. I think I'm gonna head home." It wasn't a lie, exactly. I was tired, bone-deep tired in a way that went beyond just physical exhaustion, and I desperately wanted to be in my own space, behind locked doors, where I could try to make sense of everything that had happened.

Marcus nodded, still looking concerned but accepting my explanation. "Okay, yeah. Get some rest. Text me when you get home, alright? Make sure you made it safe." He pulled me into another quick hug, and I returned it gratefully before turning to make my way toward the road.