This Poison Heart (This Poison Heart #1) - Kalynn Bayron Page 0,82

you think. You seen Get Out?”

“Yes!” I was excited that we had a similar taste in movies. “Not gonna lie. When we first got here, that’s all that was going through my head. ‘Please don’t let an old white lady take over my body.’ ”

We laughed ourselves to tears as we pulled onto Market Street, parked, and got out. Trees draped in strings of white lights lit up the block.

I felt the familiar urge to bind myself, to be hyperaware of every single plant or tree in my immediate vicinity. As we walked along Market Street, the trees rustled but didn’t make too much of a fuss and I wondered if it might be because I was more at ease with my abilities than before.

“Here it is,” Karter said.

I stopped and looked around. I didn’t see a marquee or a ticket window.

“Here what is?”

“The movies.” Karter gestured between two of the houses that had been turned into shops. Spanning the alley was a metal sign that said Theater, and beyond it was a set of double doors leading into what looked like the back of an old house.

“For real?”

“What? You were expecting something else?”

“Are you telling me this theater is in someone’s house?”

Karter laughed. “Come on.”

We passed a few people who were gathered outside on our way into the lobby, which wasn’t much more than a small room. A guy was working a popcorn machine that looked like it was made at the same time movies were invented. When he saw us, he quickly walked behind the counter.

“Vampires?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” said Karter. “You seen it? Is it any good?”

“It’s really good,” the guy said. “A little bloody but in a really artistic, thoughtful way.”

I glanced sideways at Karter and he grinned.

“Let me get two tickets, then,” Karter said.

I took out my debit card to pay but Karter was already handing the guy a couple of twenties. “I got you.”

He paid for our tickets, two small bags of popcorn, and two bottled waters, since apparently soda wasn’t allowed in the theater.

“Enjoy the show!” The guy gave an awkward salute and went back to tending the popcorn machine. He clearly took his job very seriously.

We went down a short hallway decorated with posters of old movies and vintage film reels.

As we entered the seating area I glanced at Karter. “There are, like, twenty seats in here.”

“Twenty-four,” Karter said. “And all empty. Take your pick.”

There were four rows of six seats each, and the screen was so close I could have thrown a piece of popcorn and hit it. I picked two seats in the middle of the second row.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”

Karter chuckled and leaned back in his seat. “It’s nice though, right?”

I looked around as two guys came in and sat in the last row.

“It’s different,” I said.

A few minutes in, the lights dimmed. The screen lit up as the movie started. I picked at my popcorn. It was too buttery, and I really wished I had a cold soda to wash it down.

Karter finished his popcorn and kept looking at my bag.

“Want some?” I whispered.

He laughed. “Sharing is caring. Thanks.”

We huddled together, trying to keep our laughter as quiet as possible, especially since the character on screen was being torn to shreds by some kind of undead creature. Bad timing, but I was feeling happier than I had in months.

Halfway through the movie, the door at the back of the theater opened and two more people came in. They were dressed in dark clothing and one of them wore a baseball hat, the bill covering his face. They sat directly in front of us.

“What’s the point?” Karter whispered. “Movie’s halfway over.”

One of the men in the back row cleared his throat. I turned to look at him, but he stared ahead, avoiding my eyes. The theater turned pitch-black as the characters on screen entered an underground crypt. As my eyes adjusted to the dark and Karter finished off the last of my popcorn—muttering things like “hell nah” and “stupid” under his breath—I noticed that one of the men in the front row wasn’t paying attention to what was happening on the screen. He had turned so that he was looking toward the side of the theater, his left ear tipped toward me.

The screen flickered, bathing the seats in bright light as the characters moved back outside. The man turned to the screen, pushing his hat low on his forehead. I gripped Karter’s arm. Something

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