Beauty In Her Madness (Winterland Tale #3) - Stacey Marie Brown Page 0,4
wanted to ensure we could pay the bills, have a cushion in our bank account for an emergency, and save for our future house. We were responsible and determined.
And now we did have an apartment in Hartford, a car, food, money to go out on the weekends, we were going to university…everything I said I wanted. So why did I feel I was living someone else’s life?
A tingling feeling skated down my neck, and I twisted my head around the room, picking up on the utter silence. The music in the cottage was set on repeat, and by the end of the season, you were ready to take a bat to it, but now nothing came from the speakers.
Setting down the box of decorations, I headed for the small employee area, my feet halting at the window. The brightly lit tree lot, usually blinding to look at, was in complete darkness. Like they had closed up and gone home, but I knew they never turned the lights fully off. A few of the brothers had trailers and stayed the season at the lot, next to the father’s house. The tree lot was always lit.
As I looked out, everything was black. Did the electricity go out? Fuse box? The lights were still on in the cottage, though.
Peculiar.
I opened the back door, peering out into the cold, dark night. “Gabe? Do you know—” I stopped, noticing he was not in his usual spot. “Gabe?”
A prickle of warning rushed over my shoulders and up my throat, singing with alarm.
“There’s a perfectly good explanation,” I muttered to myself, listing the reasons. Making lists always calmed me down. The fuse box was probably overloaded and went out over on the lot, and Gabe went over to help them.
It sounded like a good enough explanation, except the cottage still had electricity, and I knew from experience they were on the same lines. Also, Gabe would never willingly help out if he didn’t have to. He did as little as possible, and he wasn’t a big fan of the brothers.
The silence from the huge lot wrapped another layer of apprehension around my throat.
“Gabe?” I stepped out, my shoes jingling, the wind brushing up my neck and through my hair, a shiver rushing down my spine, though I didn’t feel cold. I was one of those who didn’t mind cold weather. I tended to run hot and loved going for a jog on icy mornings, the air snapping in my lungs, making me feel alive. “Hey, boss man, where did you go?”
Moving around the cottage, I peered around, noticing the parking lot was mostly empty. A fog had slithered in, drifting close to the ground in the woods right behind the lot. Spikes of fear shot through my body, and I darted toward the house to find help. The two youngest boys and the father were always here.
“Hello?” I called out, but not one voice or any movement came from the place. Alarm swarmed in my stomach like bees. The deep instinct to run tapped at my legs, but I shushed it. There’s a logical reason. My mom always said I was like the Nancy Drew character; I would not stop until the problem was solved.
“Come to me, Dinah.” A howl of wind sounding like a woman stopped me dead in my tracks. My entire body flushed with terror. My head snapped around, searching for the voice, my heart thumping in my chest.
It was just the wind and your imagination. You’re still spooked from earlier. I tried to reassure myself as I fought the growing desire to beeline it back to the cottage. Taking in a strong breath, rolling back my shoulders, I directed myself toward the house.
“Dinah.” A woman’s voice sent shivers up my spine, and I spun with a yelp. I frantically scanned the area, not finding anything.
Something moved in the forest, a dark silhouette, but I could feel its eyes on me. A peculiar sensation twitched my limbs, as if I needed to follow it. My feet stepped forward as though I were in a trance. What the hell are you doing, Dinah? Run! A voice clipped in the back of my head. Switching my logical brain back on, I turned to run.
“No!” The voice felt like strands of air wrapping around my ankles and wrists similar to spiderwebs, not letting me escape. “It’s time.”
There was no way; it wasn’t possible. But the more I struggled, the less I could move.