Intertwined

By Jenn Marie

Quiet seventeen-year-old Elizabeth Parker is looking forward to another mellow summer with her goofy relatives, sun tanning at the beach and staying out of trouble. Which is why the thought of her younger cousin participating in what is, clearly, a setup disguised as an initiation, worries her to the point of intervention.

One that backfires ... big time ...

Mistaken for her cousin, Elizabeth finds herself transported to an abandoned plantation, a place deeply haunted with unresolved mystery and where horror reigns every summer between July 20 and August 13.

It is there, locked in the pitch dark, where she finds herself paired with the strange and mysterious Adam Hunt—an unexpected trespasser with his own agenda. Together, they find a list of instructions—follow the clues to various possessions in the house, store them in the backpack provided, and find the key that will grant escape.

Having snuck in to document the haunting, Adam offers to help her find the key so long as she helps him record paranormal activity along the way. But as they make their way through the house, they soon discover unexplained anomalies ...

For the first time in the plantation's recorded history, the haunting deviates from its known cycle of events, thrusting Elizabeth and Adam in a series of perilous circumstances that ensue long after the night is over.

As the last day of the haunting draws nearer, and as forces beyond their control ignite their growing attraction, Elizabeth and Adam must work together to uncover the plantation's mysterious past before its too late.

Or die trying.

Warning: Occasional coarse language. Intended for Mature Young Adult audience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenn Marie
• Release date: Jul 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310808784

Jenn Marie

Jenn is a full-time author who loves reading, writing, journaling and all things books! Currently, Jenn is working on the third and final installment in her Young Adult Paranormal Romance series and aims to publish it by the end of the year so she can take a break and travel with her husband before diving into her next series. Traveling has been a huge source of inspiration for her books. She feels there’s no better way to expand your horizons. Getting out there and seeking your next adventure is what it’s all about. She urges everyone to take risks and pursue what they love. It’s the best way to live!

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

My cousin’s hand dipped toward the tarantula. As she dropped a couple of crickets in, I flinched like the spider was right in front of me instead of clear across the room, encased by a thick wall of glass.

"How do you sleep at night with that thing less than ten feet away from you?" I asked her.

Soundly and contentedly, April said, shutting the cage.

Weirdo.

I prefer adorably bizarre, but thank you. She disappeared into her closet.

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. My cousin, although two years younger than me, had more personality in her little pinkie than most people I knew back home. I loved spending my summers with her. And even though it was a far cry from the lively atmosphere of New York City, I loved the quiet simplicity of Wilmington, North Carolina. Which was why, every summer when it was time to return home, I begged my parents to move here. It was futile. My parents were big-time executives at a big-time marketing agency, and uprooting our lives was never an option I thought they’d actually consider, but still, I tried.

You’ll cover for me, right?

Oh. Right. The initiation. A function unconventional April would never think to participate in, let alone lie to her mother about. It was so unlike her. April, are you sure this is a good idea? I thought hazing was illegal.

She poked her head out. "Would you keep it down?" Yeah. Like Aunt Millie possessed superhuman hearing and could eavesdrop on our conversation all the way from the kitchen.

Well, isn’t it?

Not technically, April said.

What does that mean?

There are different kinds of hazing. You wouldn’t understand. You don’t go to high school.

I leveled her with an affronted glare. "Yes, I do."

You know what I mean, April said, vanishing into the closet again. "Homeschool doesn’t technically count as going to high school."

Uh, ‘technically,’ yes it does. And, ‘technically,’ I’m not homeschooled.

Whatever. Virtual high school. Same thing. April emerged wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a green-striped sweater, her chestnut hair twisted up in a messy bun. She faced the mirror above the dresser and dabbed her lips with Chap Stick. You don’t have to worry about me. Other sophomores will be there too. Besides, they do this every year and nothing bad has ever happened. How dangerous can it be?

I’m confused. Aren’t initiations for freshmen? Like a rite of passage? And why are they doing this in the middle of summer and not at the beginning of the school year? Seems backward. Don’t you think?

April met my eyes in the mirror. They were bright with mischief. Too bright. My insides clenched. I knew that look—trouble. The same look she always wore when she was about to divulge a secret. I wanted nothing to do with it. Where April was a thrill-seeker, I was anxiety prone. I had no idea why I was such a worrywart, but I’d always had a tendency to panic at the slightest prospect of danger or wrongdoing. There was no reason for it, nothing wrong with my home life to warrant such anxiety. I had incredible parents. A wonderful home. A privileged upbringing. My life was perfect. I had no cause for fear, and yet I feared everything.

I have to tell you something, April said. But you have to promise you won’t say anything. I mean it, Lizzie. As my cousin, you’re sworn to secrecy. Promise?

Oh, no, I said. The last time I covered for you, I broke out in hives and ended up in urgent care. Whatever it is, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.

Liz, c’mon. You’re too young to be this agoraphobic. And this is coming from someone two years younger than you. Lighten up. Live a little.

I’m not agoraphobic, I grumbled. I was lying on my stomach at the foot of April’s bed, my gaze still fixed on the tarantula like it might leap from its cage and somehow land on my face without ever touching the floor.

Prove it, April said. Read this and tell me what you think. She crossed the room to hand me a piece of paper. It hung in the air between us. A challenge.

Fine. I snatched the paper. Fashioned to look like an admission ticket, spindly branches fringed the edges of the gold parchment paper, giving it a creepy, vintage feel. The left side depicted a rundown mansion with narrow steeples, backlit by a huge full moon, while the rest of the ticket supplied the details of the invitation.

Haunted House, it read in black capital lettering across the top, and below that, Initiation Ceremony in bold orange. The location was listed as the Jefferson Plantation; the date read, Thursday, July 20, 1905. I frowned. Today was the twentieth, but it was Sunday, not Thursday. And what was with the year? It was 2014, not the beginning of the twentieth century. Wait at the end of your driveway at 9 p.m. sharp. Crammed in fine print were two warnings: Attend at your own risk and Enter if you dare.

Well? April prompted.

Very official, I said, handing the ticket back to her.

That’s it?

Yup.

None of this information alarms you?

Nope.

Not even a pea’s worth of anxiety?

No, April.

The place is haunted. That doesn’t bother you?

No.

Or that it’s abandoned?

That wasn’t mentioned on the invitation, but nope, that didn’t bother me, either. You can stop the twenty questions now.

How about the fact that I won’t have cell service?

Nope—wait, what? How do you know? April hesitated, like she was afraid I might curl up in a ball and start sucking my thumb. April, for crying out loud. Just tell me.

Okay, okay. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she hugged a pillow to her chest. Just don’t freak out, okay?

Fine. Freak-out mode disabled. Go.

I’ve been there before.

There, as in …

The Jefferson Plantation. Behind her black-rimmed reading glasses, April’s eyes were huge with excitement. Oh no, this can’t be good.

April, what did you do?

She worried her bottom lip. I sort of … maybe … trespassed.

I slapped a hand over my face.

It’s not as bad as you think. People do it all the time. I swear.

That doesn’t make it okay, April. Lemming. Cliff. Ringing any bells?

It was a stupid dare, and my friends and I were bored, and you know how much I love hauntings. Besides, nothing happened. We went during the spring.

I grimaced. What does that have to do with anything?

There’s only activity during the summer.

What kind of activity?

Pilates and kickboxing, April deadpanned. Ghosts, Lizzie. Haven’t you been listening?

Chills pricked my spine. I don’t believe in ghosts, I lied. Because lying was easier than admitting my fears.

Oh, they’re real, April said. Trust me.

Why? I thought you said nothing happened.

"Well, nothing happened, per se, but we did discover this." Rising from the bed, she crossed the room to rifle through her desk. Doubling back, she handed me another piece of paper, this one sheet protected.

Read it. Her voice was ominous, unusual for April. Whatever it was must be legitimately disturbing. Would you stop being such a scaredy-cat? It’s a piece of paper. Not a voodoo doll.

Scowling, I snatched the paper from her. It was tattered, more yellow than ivory with trails of black ink. As I focused on the words, I felt a slice of discomfort. The calligraphic lettering was slightly jagged. Like they’d been difficult to write. A date occupied the top right corner—July 20, 1905. The same date listed on the invitation. What was the significance of this date?

I read the entry aloud: ‘Midnight is nearly upon me. Every muscle in my body screams. Every touch is tender to the welts mapping my skin. It will never stop. Lost in the hour of darkness, I wrap my blanket firmly around my soaring heart, begging midnight to perish. But it never relents. Silence ceases. Voices echo. It begins again. And I hate the man who makes midnight evil.’

For a long moment, I was silent. The words were heartbreaking, yes, but it was more than that. They were private. Raw. A glimpse into someone else’s pain and suffering. And even though they were written over a century ago, reading them felt wrong somehow.

I handed the paper back to April. Where did you find this? I asked.

In one of the bedrooms of the house, April replied. But I haven’t told you the strange part yet. When we found this, it was face down on the floor. And when my friend Brittany bent to pick it up, her hand swiped straight through it.

But you’re holding it right now.

"That’s the strange part, April exclaimed. None of my friends were able to pick it up. Only me. She paused, awaiting my reaction. Like what she said was entirely plausible. I know what you’re going to say. You don’t believe me, and that’s fine. But I’m telling you the truth. Ask my friends. They’ll tell you the same thing."

If you’re the only one who can touch this piece of paper, explain why I can do this? I grabbed the paper and waved it in her face.

April’s eyes narrowed. I was getting to that, but thank you for pointing out the obvious.

She reclaimed the paper midswipe. When I took the paper and we left the plantation, it became … tangible somehow. Suddenly, my friends were able to hold it, and even weirder, only outside the plantation gates.

How do you know that?

We went back to test it, April said. As soon as we stepped through the gates, the paper was intangible to everyone but me. Like the property was protecting it.

By placing it in your wayward hands? Doubtful.

Ha ha. Very funny. April shoved a pillow in my face. Can you be serious for five seconds? I just told you I can touch untouchable objects, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.

I’m sorry. I just don’t know if I …

If you believe me, April finished, clearly annoyed. She rose from the bed, taking the paper with her.

April, I’m sorry. It’s just hard for me to wrap my mind around this kind of thing. Again, I lied. It wasn’t difficult to believe. It was difficult to accept. Accepting led to a much scarier question. Why April? C’mon, I coaxed. Tell me the rest.

Across the room, April fiddled with a lamp tassel. You promise to listen and not make me feel like an idiot?

I promise, I said.

April smiled, practically flying to the edge of the bed. So, it gets even weirder. My friends and I found an entire blog dedicated to this haunting. There are reports dating back to the late nineties, documenting the experiences of different people all around the world. Videos, pictures, electronic voice phenomenon, you name it. Liz, all of them reported the same thing—they couldn’t touch this piece of paper. What’s even weirder, though, there are other belongings inside that house that can’t be touched.

And it was suddenly clear. Why April was so eager to participate in this so-called initiation. That’s why you’re doing this. Isn’t it? You want to go back so you can collect the other belongings.

Well, don’t you think it’s weird I’m the only one who can touch them? Maybe I’m supposed to take them.

And do what with them?

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll know when I have them all. And at the very least, it’ll prove I’m not a liar. You should’ve seen the comments when they posted my— April slapped a hand over her mouth.

April, I ground out, "please tell me you did not contact that blogger."

I did not contact that blogger, she mumbled through her fingers. Nor did I ask him to post my findings and specifically credit me as the first person to take an untouchable item.

April! Scooting to the edge of the bed, I started pacing. Do you have any idea how stupid— And then a new thought dawned on me. What if April wasn’t invited? What if she was selected? April, who gave you that invitation? I demanded.

She shrugged. A boy from school.

And do you know this boy?

She shrugged again. I know of him.

April.

He’s a senior, she explained impatiently. His name is Jack Callahan. He gave me the invitation, told me it was a secret, and that it was invitation only. That’s it.

And you don’t think the timing is at all suspicious? I asked. "That you would be invited after posting that poem, or whatever it is, online for the entire world to see? April, for all you know, this initiation is a sham. Who else was invited? Did you even bother to ask?"

Of course I did, April said, standing from the bed.

And?

And, like I said, it’s a secret. They’re not allowed to tell. She grabbed a pair of sneakers from her closet and placed them on the vanity bench.

What about your friends? I pressed.

They said they don’t know anything about it, April admitted, loosening her shoelaces. But that doesn’t mean no one else was invited.

Are you listening to yourself? Doesn’t this sound sketchy to you?

Here we go again. April groaned, shoving her foot in the sneaker. Like always, jumping to conclusions, assuming the worst, and convincing yourself that something awful is going to happen. Liz, why are you so paranoid?

I’m not paranoid. I’m worried about you.

Well, stop. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s harmless fun, okay?

I glanced at the iPod radio clock. Quarter to nine. Time was running out. Can’t you go another night? Like with your friends? People you trust?

Believe me, I’ve tried, April said. But I don’t have a license—or a car for that matter—and Sarah’s older brother, who’d driven us to the plantation in the first place, decided to spend his vacation in Lake Michigan this summer. She patted her pockets. Where did I put my cellphone?

Panic rose in my throat. I’ll take you, I blurted.

April froze midstep. You’ll take me?

I have a license, don’t I?

April read the fear in my eyes. What good is a license without a means of transportation? She resumed searching, lifting pillows and pulling the covers back.

I was losing her. I’ll borrow your mom’s car, I lied again.

And what? April asked, sifting through her laundry. Tell her we’re going for ice cream? Liz, I love you, but you’ve never told a lie that didn’t result in high doses of antihistamine. And my mom is a human lie detector. One hive and we’re done for. Besides, I already told her I’m spending the night at Sarah’s.

Wait, you’re not coming back tonight?

Nope, April said, now digging through her vanity drawers. For all I know this initiation can take all night, and I don’t want my mom waiting up. Don’t worry. I told her you were too tired to be any fun tonight, which is why you’re not joining me.

Throat clenching. Stomach tightening. April, I promise I’ll take you. Just not tonight. Any night but tonight.

No can do, cuz, April called from the bathroom. Tonight is kind of a big deal. It’s the first day of the haunting and there’s no way I’m missing it.

I frowned. First day?

Remember how I said there’s only activity in the summer?

Yeah.

That’s because it’s an imprint haunting. It begins on the same day every year—July 20. And from what I’ve read, the first night is extremely active.

Extremely active? This wasn’t good. I’d been so preoccupied with the logistics of the initiation that I hadn’t considered the dangers of the haunting. "April, I get that you’re into this paranormal stuff, and while trumping an episode of Ghost Adventures may sound like the thrill of a lifetime, it can also be really dangerous."

Thought you didn’t believe in ghosts. April ducked her head under the bed.

Well, I don’t, but—

Liz, it’s an imprint haunting. These ghosts don’t know they’re dead. They’re leftover energy or whatever. They can’t harm anyone. Then to herself, Where’s my damn cellphone?

As soon as she said it, I spotted it under a pile of toppled books. I inched my way toward it. What happened to these ghosts? I asked, trying to distract her. When she entered her closet, I dashed to the fallen books. Grabbing the cellphone, I stuffed it under the waistband of my shorts.

Total mystery, April said. Something major went down in 1905. Two family members disappeared one night and were never found. Well, that explained the year on the invitation. April reappeared, grey-blue eyes scanning the room. "If my mom calls in the morning, and I don’t answer, she’ll call Sarah’s house, and if her mom answers … " She bit her lip, looking stumped.

Keep looking. I backed toward the door. I’ll check downstairs. I quickly fled the room and ran down the hallway, my steps soundless as I descended the stairs to the foyer. I shoved my feet in a pair of sandals.

Flinging the door open, I slipped outside. Remembering what the invitation had instructed, I scurried down the porch steps and across the brick path, halting at the end of the driveway. Apart from the moon’s silvery glow, the night was dark, the air thick with humidity. A couple of darkened lampposts scraped the sky on either side of me, the street uncomfortably still.

I glanced at April’s cellphone—8:51 p.m.

Any minute now, April would come flying out the door.

I jittered where I stood. My plan was to send them away. Whoever they were, they weren’t taking my cousin, not if I could help it. It was either that or tattle to Millie. And I couldn’t do that. April would kill me. I glanced over my shoulder. C’mon …

Strong arms gripped me from behind. I squealed, dropping April’s cellphone. I tried to twist around, but a hand smashed my mouth, pulling me away from the curb. A loud ripping noise rose above my frantic screeching—tape? Oh shit, oh shit! It happened fast. One second I was flailing with all my might and the next I was wrestled into submission, my shriek smothered in my throat as darkness plunged over me.

CHAPTER 2

Behind the burlap, everything was dark.

White noise and blustery wind pounded my ears, the surface beneath me hard and cold, designed with uncomfortable ridges that met with every sharp point of my spine. Though the air was warm, my arms were sheathed in goose bumps. Where was I? I stretched my legs, my feet touching the inside of a—tailgate? I must be in the back of someone’s truck. The tires veered, rolling me across the bed of the truck where pain punched me between the eyes. I wanted to rub the spot, but my wrists were duct-taped behind my back. I was in the worst position imaginable. No sight, no hands, no way of knowing where to brace myself, or even when for that matter.

This was bad. Who were these people? Some jackass had taped my mouth shut, shrouded my face, and threw me in the back of his vehicle before I could get a word out. Didn’t they realize they had the wrong girl? Had it been that dark?

The vehicle lurched, toppling me back to the opposite side of the truck. The wind now carried a strange echo, and combined with the occasional dip in the road, it almost sounded as though we were crossing a bridge—the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge? As I’ve crossed it several times during my summers here, I knew it was the only one this close to April’s house.

Think, Elizabeth, think. They had to uncover me at some point, didn’t they? But what if they did? If they wanted April—because of her ability to take the possessions—then going back for her would be a certainty. And it wasn’t like April wouldn’t go. She’d probably tie her own hands behind her back. Shit. Okay. Calm down. April would have to tell her mom where I was. She’d have to tell her the truth. And then we’d both be safe. Right? If only I hadn’t dropped April’s cellphone. Not that it mattered—according to April there’d be no reception, but still, it would’ve been better than nothing …

Twenty minutes later, tires screeched, the once-smooth road now turbulent, jostling me from side to side. The vehicle lurched to a halt. My cheeks stung, the wind like a distant echo on my skin. Were we here? The engine idled before shutting off. A door opened. Gravel popped and crunched. Dread rippled down my spine. When I heard the tailgate unlatch, I screamed as loud as I could through the duct tape.

Man, that girl’s got a pair of lungs on her, someone called from a distance.

I was thrown by the direction of the voice—had it come from behind me?

Yeah, someone else said. Didn’t peg her for a screamer. For some reason, they chortled at this, and I realized they must’ve been referring to April.

I resumed screaming, though it sounded more like a shrieking groan with my lips taped shut.

Jesus, put a muzzle on her.

The bed of the truck bounced. I thrashed, fending off the groping hands.

C’mon, girlie, said a deep voice. You’re coming with me.

I’m not April! I tried to squeal through the tape.

Think maybe she’s chickened out?

Fingers gripped my ankles, sliding me down the truck bed. Sorry, girlie. Once you’re in, you’re in. No backing out. And I was flung over a shoulder. Shit! They couldn’t understand me. An arm locked around the back of my knees, hampering my frantic squirming. Let’s go, he said. A light blinked on, creating a dim glow within the fabric. And we were on the move.

***

My knees hit the ground. A quick tug relieved the pressure on my wrists. As my hands yanked free, I wrenched the burlap off my face. It was pitch-black. Where was I? I ran my fingers over my lips, but the tape was wrapped all the way around the back of my head with no detectable endpoint. The ground shook in the wake of a loud boom. What the—? A metal jiggling noise. Like the sound of a key turning inside a lock. A door! A door had slammed.

Scrambling to my feet, I crashed against the door. My hand grasped the latch, but it wouldn’t give. I banged my fists, screaming and yelling—or at least tried to—but no one responded. Could they not hear me? Were they already gone? God, no. Please no.

I banged harder, but it was no use. Even if they heard me, they couldn’t understand me. I was alone. Trapped. I sunk against the door, hands pressed flat on either side. Don’t panic. Stay calm. They had to come back at some point. Right? They couldn’t leave me here forever. My fingers curled, sounding a loud crinkle. I stiffened. What was that? I pulled away from the door, hands groping in the darkness. Paper. It was paper.

Pinned to the door? Why? Was it a message?

If so, there must be a way of reading it. My eyes panned the darkness. The lights couldn’t possibly work. The place was abandoned, wasn’t it? I fumbled along the walls, feeling for a switch. My foot brushed against something soft. Stepping back, I squatted, inspecting the item. It felt like maybe a backpack or a satchel. My fingers found the zipper and tugged. It gave way easily. I slipped my hand inside, extracting a slim object. A protrusion jutted along the side. I clicked it. Light burst forth.

From the ceiling, light glinted off the tear-shaped crystals of a beautiful chandelier. For a moment, I couldn’t move. My hand quivered as I cast the flashlight slowly, illuminating my surroundings. In the corner loomed a rustic grandfather clock, while centering the space was a grand renaissance staircase, made grander still by a decorative rug. The walls were little more than patches of cracked plaster, the bone-dry floor coated in flaking paint.

Fear slithered in my veins. The placed looked as though it might cave with the slightest breath. I rose on shaking limbs, pointing the light at the door. A sheet of paper clung to the wood by four pieces of tape. It read:

Dear Initiate,

On every floor, you’ll find several strategically placed flags. Each flag contains a clue and each clue contains the whereabouts of the object you need to find. In total, there are ten flags, each labeled with its designated number. If you haven’t already guessed, the clues must be deciphered in chronological order. First flag one, then two, then three, and so forth. To keep you on track we’ve made sure the clues only make sense in the correct order that you read them. The tenth flag contains the clue that will lead you to a code. This code will grant you access to the digital lockbox securing the front door. Inside, you’ll find a key—your only means of escape. Remember—you cannot leave until all objects are in your possession. Store them in the backpack provided. And find the code. Good luck.

Shit. I was right. They’d wanted April all along. Not wanted—needed. April was the only one capable of collecting these items. That had to be it. Why else create this challenge? And disguise it as an initiation?

I stepped away, my body shaking.

But they had the wrong girl. I couldn’t complete this challenge even if I wanted to. And without the items, I couldn’t escape. Or could I? I pointed the light at the door. Looped through the handle was a digital lockbox. What about the windows? Could I break the glass and climb out? I redirected the light, shocked to see two windows on either side of the door boarded up from the inside. No. This wasn’t happening.

I backed away, passing the beam to my right where the wall opened in a wide arc to frame the entrance of what appeared to be the parlor, though, in the dark, I could discern little more than silhouettes of furniture. Here the windows were also boarded up, and on the left as well where the dining room resided.

Okay. I was officially panicking. Leaping to the nearest window, I gripped the board, heaving with all my might. I grunted between stymied breaths. Bracing one foot on the wall for leverage, I lost my grasp and tumbled back, hitting the floor with a bone-jarring thud. The light winked out. Shit. My hand fumbled for the flashlight. Where did it go?

Movement from behind.

Creeeaaak.

I whimpered, groping the floor with frantic fingers.

Creeeaaaaaak.

I twirled, a scream stifled in my throat.

There—dark, lone, and eerily still—loomed a black shadow.

CHAPTER 3

A muffled screech burst through my nose. The shadow shot toward me.

Shhh! A hand closed over my mouth. I’m not going to hurt you, whispered a low voice. Just stay still and be quiet. Like I could scream. Couldn’t he feel the tape? I flailed, elbowing my captor in the ribs. "Christ, he hissed, I said stay still." His arm wrapped me from behind, holding me against his chest. And that’s when I heard it.

A soft click echoed through the room. I stilled. Only when it clicked again did I recognize the sound as mechanical. Where was it coming from? The grandfather clock? But that was impossible. It was like a thousand years old. It couldn’t possibly be—

The gears turned again, sounding an ominous ticking, and with the vibration of a gong, the clock chimed the hour. I yelped. The boy tightened his hold. Static prickled, igniting a violent tremble in my bones. At the end of every clang, my heart stuttered, only to pick up in double time. When at last the final toll droned out, I was nearly hyperventilating. The boy released me.

I jumped to my feet, gesturing frantically at the door. So blinded by fear, it didn’t occur to me that he couldn’t see what I was pointing at.

Calm down, the boy said, standing in full height before me. Even in the dark, I could tell he was much taller than I was.

Dropping to all fours, I patted the floor, feeling for the flashlight. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs were shrinking. So were the walls. The light flicked on. I gasped as my fingertips met the toes of black grunge combat boots.

Looking for this? the boy said, sounding older, even for a senior—assuming that’s what he was. Dark-wash jeans covered the length of his too-long legs, but the rest of him was hidden in the blinding glow of the flashlight. I scrambled back on my haunches, shielding the light with my forearm.

Hey, take it easy, the boy said. I’m not going to hurt you. Ironically, he said this at the exact moment he withdrew a pocketknife from the back pocket of his jeans. I squealed, my heart jumping in my throat. It’s to cut the tape, he said quickly, lowering the knife to the floor. Here. He kicked it toward me. I stared at it.

When he didn’t move, I picked it up. Unfolding the blade, eyes locked on his shins, I raised the knife to the back of my head and maneuvered it under the tape, slicing it outward from my skull. The tape ripped in half. I wrestled it out of my hair. Air gushed in my lungs, and only then did I realize how loudly I’d been breathing through my nose. Open it, I choked out, getting to my feet. Please.

Calm—

Don’t tell me to calm down, I snapped. Just open the damn door.

Whoa, hold on a sec—

What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see you have the wrong girl?

The wrong girl?

I’m not April. I threw my arms out. As if it wasn’t already obvious.

Who?

April! I shouted at him. I’m not April! You have the wrong girl!

Slow down, the boy said. I don’t know who you are, and I sure as hell don’t know who April is. Frankly, I don’t care. But if you don’t keep it down, you’re going to fuck up this investigation, and I really don’t like wasting my time.

Investigation? Who was this guy? Another initiate? Seizing the flashlight, I pointed it at his face. Words caught in my throat as I took in the boy’s features—sharp, angular, and, if I were being completely honest, very attractive. Dark brooding brows. Jade-green eyes. Chiseled cheekbones. And thin, oddly crooked lips, a tiny defect in the corner of his mouth that both chilled and fascinated me. On anyone else, it would’ve looked unattractive. But on him …

As entertaining as this is, he said, crossing his arms over his chest, I’m really not following you here. So, unless you have something more coherent to share …

I frowned at him. Aren’t you here for the initiation?

The what?

I cast the beam at the door. The boy squinted, turning to face the sheet of paper.

What’s this? he asked, reading the instructions. After a moment, he turned. April? As in the girl who took an item from this house? That April? Wait. Where had that come from? And how did he know about that? Had he read the blog? Was he making the same connection I’d made after reading the instructions? When I didn’t respond, he tore the paper from the door. Who brought you here? he demanded.

You tell me, I shot back.

Whatever’s going on here, I have nothing to do with it. I was here long before you showed up.

Then why did they trap you here with me?

Because they don’t know I’m here. And his words stunned me cold. I retraced our conversation. Thought back to his earlier confusion. He was a trespasser, I realized. Not a participant.

How’d you get in?

Door was open. Or it was when I got here.

When was that?

Couple hours ago.

And did you see anyone else?

Like another initiate? He indicated the paper. I think it’s safe to say this isn’t an initiation.

My eyes narrowed. How do you know my cousin?

April? I don’t. We go to the same school, but I only realized that after I read about her online—which, by the way, was pretty ballsy. Blogging about a possession she took—one no one else has been able to take. Probably not the smartest idea.

Why? I asked, even though I shared his suspicion. Who are these people?

If I had to guess, I’d say the Callahans are behind this. He indicated the paper again.

The Callahans?

You’ve never heard of them? He raised a dark brow, as though taking me in for the first time. You’re not from around here, are you?

I flushed under his perusal. I stood there in my pajama bottoms and T-shirt, utterly aware of how ridiculous I must look. What makes you say that?

Small city. Big name, he said. If you lived here, you’d know who the Callahans are.

Well, now that he mentioned it …

Who are they?

They own the place.

But I thought it was abandoned.

It is. He jerked his chin at the paint-chipped ceiling. But they still own it. Weird, right?

Callahan … why does that name sound familiar? Jack, I blurted. Jack Callahan. He’s the guy who invited April. But it was more than that. I felt like I’d heard the name before tonight, gossiped among the locals during my countless summers here. It was a name everyone seemed to know. Never having been one for petty gossip, I couldn’t recall even the vaguest detail of who the Callahans were. A scowl curled his upper lip. You know him?

Unfortunately. There was an edge to his voice. If he’s after these possessions, he’s up to no good. He wouldn’t go through all this trouble otherwise. Which means, sorry to say, you may be in for a long night.

The thought of spending the entire night trapped in this crumbling hellhole made me weak with nausea. "I need to get out of here. Like now. Right now."

Relax, the boy said. We just need to find the code.

That could take all night! I screeched. There has to be another way.

There isn’t, he insisted. I’ve combed the place. There’s only three entry points into this house, and the other two are chained up.

What about the windows? Can we pry a board loose? I knew it was pointless, but I tried again anyway.

Stop. The boy seized my arm. You’re wasting your time. The boards are hammered in too deep.

Pulling free of his grasp, I thudded on the door. Open the door! I’m not April! You hear me? You have the wrong girl! Please!

Hey, the boy said, sounding bored, you can either pound on the door and hope someone lets you out, or you can follow the instructions and find the code. That’s it. Those are your options.

But I told you. I can’t collect these items.

You don’t need to. You just have to find them, he said. And when they lead to the code, you can unlock the door. Problem solved.

I fretted my bottom lip. Who was this guy? Why was he helping me? Who are you?

Name’s Adam. That wasn’t what I meant.

Why are you here? I tried again. Though his face was cast in shadow, I sensed his hesitation.

See for yourself. And he walked away, taking the light with him.

CHAPTER 4

As Adam disappeared around the banister, I scrambled after him. Rushing past the grandfather clock and down the hall, I found him in the doorway of a small, rundown library. Glass-fronted bookcases glinted in the passing beam of my flashlight. It was hard to see in the gloom, but where Adam crouched on the floor I saw the legs of a torn leather couch.