Shadow Pact Book 2

“This place won’t be the same without you,” said the middle-aged Bradley Campbell with a sigh and a touch of regret.

He leaned one heavy elbow on the bar and gave Lyric a sad little smile. Her last paycheck was in his hand, held out for her.

Lyric untied the strings of the hideous green apron she’d worn while waitressing nearly every night for the last few years.

She threw it on the bar in a puddle of fabric and took the envelope with a nod of thanks. “You’ll have a new girl hired in a week and forget all about me,” she said with a chuckle.

He fixed her with a serious stare over his small glasses. “I’ll hire someone soon enough,” he agreed. “But there’s no forgetting you.”

“Hard to forget about the crazy girl, huh?” she teased, trying to break the solemn atmosphere.

She hated goodbyes. Her eyes already stung with the threat of tears.

This was a good thing, she reminded herself.

She was leaving this horrible town behind and starting fresh—giving herself a clean slate. She was going where no one knew she heard a voice in her head.

Bradley’s face slid into a disapproving scowl. “You’re not crazy,” he said. “You hear voices because you’ve been through a lot. A hell of a lot,” he amended. “And these small-town big mouths didn’t help matters.”

“That’s the thing about small towns,” she said with a shrug that was supposed to be carefree but came out closer to dejected. “They have memories that go on forever and nothing spreads like gossip.”

He gave a snort of agreement and lapsed into a protracted silence. “Just promise you won’t take it with you,” he said a moment later. “Your brother’s grown. You did your duty and raised him into a good man. You were still a kid yourself. That’s something to be proud of.”

He waited for her weak smile of acknowledgement. Tears were stinging worse than ever, and she knew she wouldn’t get through this with dry eyes. Sure enough, a single tear slid down her cheek.

She brushed it away impatiently.

“Don’t take the words of these idiots with you. You lost more than your parents in that accident. You lost your free years of being a young girl with nothing more to worry about than—” he hesitated uncertainly and gave a small chuckle. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Hair and boys, I guess.”

Lyric laughed with him through her tears, thankful for the small bit of levity.

“Go reclaim your life,” he continued. “Leave the past here and never look back.”

“I won’t,” she promised, and meant it.

“Good. Take care of yourself.” He cleared his throat and gave her a fatherly smile.

“Thank you,” Lyric said, reaching out to grip his hand earnestly. “For everything.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said.

Lyric gave him a final smile and a nod of thanks, then turned and walked away.

It was surreal to hear the little bell chime above the door and know she’d never hear it again. For five years she’d been listening to the annoying sound so often that she sometimes heard it in her sleep.

Knowing this was the last time seemed discomforting, somehow.

Not that she was having second thoughts.

Since her younger brother, Sean, had gone off to college, there was nothing left for her in the little town except bad memories and rumors. God knew she’d had enough of those. More than enough.

Besides, she couldn’t shake the urgent feeling something was after her and it was closing in. Fast.

Sometimes, she could swear she was being watched.

Her doctors were convinced it was just the paranoia acting up, but she was sure it was something else. For nearly two weeks, she’d been on the edge of panic with no obvious cause.

Changes in her routine hadn’t helped, and she wasn’t going back to the hospital.

Never again.

Sean was gone. Her responsibility was fulfilled. If it was insanity stalking her, she’d fought the good fight. It was time to see where insanity would lead.

Her beat-up, dilapidated car waited for her, loaded down with the few things she was taking for the trip. Everything else was in storage.

She made her way across the darkened parking lot, listening absently to the crunch of gravel underfoot. The driver’s door gave a familiar, reluctant groan when she opened it.

She slid in, tossed her purse into the passenger seat, closed the door with a squeaky slam, and started the engine. The headlights came on and cut through the darkness directly in front of her.

Something bright caught her attention and she stopped, staring through the windshield.

The figures blended too well in the night and her headlights weren’t bright enough to give her more than a vague shape.

But whatever they were, they were big.

For a long moment, she sat frozen like a rabbit in a snare. All she could do was watch those eyes, her brain unable to process what she was seeing into something that made sense.

None of them moved or seemed to blink. They just stared at her endlessly.

After a couple of tense heartbeats, she gave a small, nervous laugh and shook her head slightly without taking her eyes from the ones looking back.

It had to be something simple and silly.

Hadn’t she seen something on Facebook where someone put big, scary eyes on an old tree and frightened a bunch of people? It had to be something like that.

Surely her mind wasn’t cracking up, once and for all.

The doctors warned her it might get worse at some point.

She swallowed the thought.

No, she told herself firmly, dragging her eyes away from the scene and back to the inside of her car. Sitting around worrying she’d lose her sanity was a surefire way to make herself go insane.

She was not a full-blown basket case. Someone was clearly trying to play a prank.

Cautiously sure of her reasoning, she pulled the car into reverse and backed up a little more quickly than usual under the flickering light of the single streetlamp.

Without warning, something hit the passenger door with enough force to rock the little car. Hard. She yelped in both fear and surprise and stomped the brake, jerking to a sudden halt.

Her heart jumped into her throat. She scanned around frantically, but her vision was limited to the small, illuminated space. She squinted into the darkness but couldn’t see anything.

A sinking feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach when she realized she couldn’t see the eyes in the field any longer.

With slightly unsteady hands, she pulled into drive.

A flash of movement in the rearview mirror caught her attention. She turned to look but saw nothing through the back window that didn’t belong there.

For a few seconds, she continued to stare, trying to stay calm. There had to be a rational explanation—she tried to convince herself.

She turned back toward the front of the car and found herself at eye level with something huge and hairy.

Glistening amber eyes set into a massive dog-shaped face stared at her through the driver’s side window.

Her mouth opened in a high-pitched scream of sheer terror. Without taking her gaze from the creature, she hit the gas, and the car lurched forward. Something heavy landed on the hood with a crunch.

She looked up to find another one staring at her through the windshield—impossibly long teeth bared. With a vicious snarl, it threw itself against the glass.

The windshield gave a horrifying crack and spider-webbed. Lyric slammed the brake and sent it flying.

Suddenly, her car was being hit from every direction, rocking wildly until it threatened to overturn. She didn’t have a clue what was happening and had no intention of sticking around to find out.

With a light thump, the gas pedal hit the floor. Her tires squealed in protest as the car moved with far more speed than she’d known it was capable of.