Page 107 of Liars and Liaisons

Shit.“Okay, well, that’s fine. I doubt we could use it right now anyway.” I fold Elena’s knife into her hands, turning it so she sees the whole piece. “This little button at the side opens the blade. If you use it, keep your wrist turned out. That way, if you’re attacked, they can’t just bend your arm and stab you.”

She swallows, followed by a curt nod. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I have elbows of steel.”

I ease open the pantry door, scanning the room quickly. This time, I don’t even look at Micah at all, unable to let myself be dragged back down to a place I’m useless in. Willow whimpers behind me, and I squeeze her hand.

“You’ll do her memory no good if you die too,” I hiss, low so the sound doesn’t travel.

We tiptoe into the kitchen, and I grab a knife from the block on the island. The handle is sticky and warm, and I wonder where the blood came from.

Micah or her attacker.

Did she try to fend him off?Maybe she got to the block and was pulling out a weapon when he reached her.

Did he even care when she begged for her life?

My throat burns, acid churning in my stomach as we reach the doorway across from the patio. The one not soaked in our friend.

“The barn is on fire,” Willow says, the orange glow seeping in past the curtains. “I don’t know where Faun went.”

I just nod. Now, I’m fairly certain it isn’t just the barn. Smoke clings to the air around us, polluting the haunted halls, and it’s starting to get thicker. Heavier, like the source is close.

We take off down the hall, the dark paint and floors bathed in the apricot sky outside. Our backs stick to the walls, stuck in the shadows, giving us at least the advantage of not being sneaked up on. Our steps are slow, cautious, and it feels like a hundred years pass before we’re out of the staff wing and back in the main portion, heading for the front door.

On the stairs, up at their peak, something slips against the floor. A scuffing sound echoes out, like the low battery on a smoke detector, and we freeze.

Sweat drips down my forehead, and I can feel Willow’s uneven breathing on the back of my neck.

“What was that?” she whispers, stepping closer. She’s trembling, her fear permeating the smoky air, mixing with mine, even as I try to shove it down.

My eyes slide up while my face remains on the front door. The stained glass bars our view of just how much of the outside is burning down.

Anxiety solidifies into a vat of toxic waste in my stomach when my gaze stops roaming.

At the top of the stairs—a masked figure.

Themasked figure who murdered Micah. It’s likely they started the fires, too, in an attempt to divert emergency sources if they showed or to trap us inside.

“Willow,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We need to run.”

She exhales and gives my hand a little shake. Confirmation.

Things move in a blur after that. I don’t see the figure upstairs run down them, but in an instant, we’re reaching the door at the same time. Panting, Willow and I scramble back a few steps, keeping our eyes on the monster looming before us.

That goat mask sits securely on the man’s face, but he’s no Grayson.

Not even Nate.

When he lowers the hood covering his head, revealing gray hair I’ve never seen in person, terror ignites anew in my body.

As shock and fear give way to dreaded realization, Grayson’s father smiles.

Then, he lifts his arms and swings his walking stick right at us.

It catches me on the arm as we stumble back again, sending a splinter of searing pain radiating from my elbow up. The knife falls as my fingers spasm, releasing it from my grip as I turn, shoving Willow ahead of me.

Adrenaline pulses like electricity through my bloodstream, propelling me forward down the hall—away from the front door, our easiest course of exit.

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