The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,102

too late. That you’re not too broken.

I leave a note in the tree and text Ashton to make sure Brendan checks it immediately. He’s not one of my approved contacts, so this is the only way I’m able to contact him other than through Ashton. But I don’t want her knowing where we’re going in case it goes wrong and we get busted.

I scoop up my backpack and walk through the administration building, where Grant is waiting to check me out.

“Ready for this?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply, determined. I look up at him. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

“I’m glad you asked.” He gives me a quick kiss before I get in the car.

“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask as he pulls out of Blackwood.

“Yeah. Sawyer told me where to park.”

“How is he? Did he, or should I say, did his parents decide to enroll him in Printz-Lee?”

“Uh … he’s actually moving into Blackwood next week.”

“Blackwood?” I question in shock. “What makes him qualified for Blackwood?”

“I don’t know, but he’s obviously hiding something.”

“Aren’t we all?” I mutter, then look to Grant. “Except you.”

He shrugs, accepting that he’s an open book.

It doesn’t take us long to find the remote dirt road we’re meant to park along. It’s a dead end with nothing built along it, like they had a plan but then abandoned it.

Grant pulls off the road and backs within a grove of trees. “Just in case,” he tells me.

“In case of what?”

“Exactly,” he answers with a wink.

I laugh, not understanding how his over-prepared brain works, but appreciating it all the same.

Now that we’re off Blackwood’s property, I turn on Joey’s phone, hoping Brendan will contact me. As soon as it powers on, I receive a text.

Be there in fifteen. Don’t bring your Blackwood phone.

I eye the message curiously. Now who’s being paranoid? I pull the Blackwood phone out of the side pocket of the backpack and leave it in the glove box.

“What was that about?” Grant asks, waiting for me outside the car with some sort of tarp.

“I don’t know. Brendan told me not to bring it. Don’t ask me why.”

I watch Grant cover the car with a tan tarp. Guess paranoia is in the air today.

We head back to where the dead end runs into the woods and search for the yellow strips of plastic tied to branches and bushes, leading us to the barn. I’m not any more coordinated walking through the woods in the daytime than I am at night, even with sneakers on. I stumble over roots and stub my toes on rocks regardless. Grant turns every time it sounds like I’m about to fall on my face.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, amused.

“Just … keep going. Don’t look back unless you hear me scream,” I urge, frustrated with my clumsiness. I am not usually this uncoordinated. I swear these woods have it out for me.

Grant laughs and continues in the direction the yellow ties indicate.

“I didn’t realize it was this far out here,” I say, sighing when we’re still not at the barn twenty minutes later.

“Sawyer said it’s about a half-hour walk,” Grant tells me, pulling out a bottle of water. “Want a sip?”

I take it from him and tip back a long swallow.

When I hand it back to him, I get a whiff of … smoke. “Do you smell that?”

Grant tilts his head, sniffing. “Smoke? Maybe someone’s camping out here?”

My gut twists. “That would be weird, right?”

“I don’t know. It is Vermont. People camp everywhere.”

Within a minute of walking, dark clouds of smoke start billowing above the tree line. A lot of smoke.

“Um, that’s not a campfire,” I say, my heart picking up pace. “Grant, I think that’s the barn.”

He glances at me. We must share the same thought because we take off running toward the fire at the same time.

Grant is much faster than I am, and by the time I reach the blaze, he has his hands cupped against a window, trying to see inside.

The back of the barn is in flames, but it’s crawling along the sides up to the roof quickly. I rush to the large sliding doors; they’re chained and secured with a padlock. A good one, not the kind I can pick easily. Especially under pressure. “Grant, is he in there?”

“Shit,” he mutters. Then he looks to me, his eyes flickering in panic. “There’s someone lying on the floor. It might be Brendan. I can’t tell. We need to get in there.”