Whispered Darkness by Jessica Sorensen Page 0,21

shake my head. “No. I’d never do that.”

We trade a look that reads, Then how the heck do they know where I live?

“Maybe they don’t know where I live?” I suggest. “Maybe there’s a statue in the park in their town that looks like ours?”

“Maybe.” He sounds doubtful, though.

The feeling is mutual, since it’s a really weird statue.

“What should I do?” I hover my fingers over the keys. “I mean, I think I should reply, but should I agree to meet them? I think maybe I should. The meeting place is in a park, and it’s at two thirty, so there’ll be people there.”

“This whole thing makes me uneasy,” he admits. “And I honestly think you shouldn’t go, but if you want to, we can figure out a safe way for you to do this. Maybe have Porter come, too, to keep an eye on things, and I can come with you or stay close by.”

As inappropriate as it is at this moment, I find myself smiling. When he notices, he looks totally perplexed, which is completely understandable.

“Why’re you smiling?” he wonders.

“It’s nothing,” I say with a shrug. “I just really like that you didn’t just try to tell me what to do. That you discussed it with me and wanted my opinion.” I shrug. “It’s nice not to have someone trying to control me and make all decisions for me.”

“No one should ever try to control you. But I really want to stress that this thing”—he gestures at that computer—“makes me uneasy.”

“It makes me uneasy, too. But like I said, it’s in the middle of a public place where people hang out. Plus, you’ll be there, and I know you won’t let anything happen to me.”

“You’re right; I won’t,” he promises. He didn’t need to say the words aloud, though.

I know he won’t.

I know it in my half soul, in which he carries the other half.

He needs to know something, too, though. Something important.

“And I’m not going to let anything happen to you, either. I’m going to figure out a way to save these girls. I’m not gonna let you fade.” Then I kiss his cheek.

As soon as my lips leave, I focus on what to type in the email, mostly because my heart is racing inside my chest so forcefully that I feel a bit lightheaded.

“All right, now I just need to think of the right reply,” I say, feeling his gaze burrowing into me. “What?” I finally ask, turning my head toward him. “Why are you staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face or something?”

“No.” He stares at me for a slamming heartbeat longer before redirecting his attention to the computer. Then he reaches over and pushes a few keys, typing: See you there.

“That work?” he asks with his brow lifted. “You can type more if you want, but I figured, with how sketchy this all is, being vague is probably a good thing.”

“You’re probably right.” I hit send. “I guess that’s that.”

It feels so simple, yet I have a feeling it won’t be. At all. Just like none of this has been. Something I’m reminded of when Beth briefly materializes in the corner of the room, whispering a few ominous words.

“Be careful, Harlynn,” she warns, flickering in and out of focus, like she’s about to fade. “The shadows are everywhere, lining the path to the truth.”

5

Kingsley

After we send the reply to Death, Harlynn tells me she should probably go home.

“If my mom realizes I’m not in my bed, she’s going to flip out. And I don’t even have my phone on me.” She stands and stretches her arms above her head.

I try not to stare, but my eyes stray to the sliver of skin peering out between the hem of her tank top and the waistband of her pajama shorts.

She’s so beautiful. I’ve been observing her for years, from a distance, and from what I can tell, she’s completely oblivious to her beauty. Foster played a part in that by keeping her to himself, using her kindness to his convenience and messing with her mind. I’ve seen him do it, heard him talk about it when he thought no one was listening. And I wanted to stop it, protect Harlynn from him, but once his darkness wove inside her mind, he polluted her thoughts like he did everyone else’s.

That’s the thing about people like Foster. They appear perfect on the outside, controlled and collected to the point that a lot of