Page 42 of Somewhere Without You
A cold breeze slipped past me, raising the hair on my arms. I stared at the door.MaybeIhadn’tlatcheditproperly. Iwassure Ihad, but the old lockwasn’texactlyreliable.Maybea strong gust of windhadpushedit open.
Itwasa weak excuse, but itwassomething.
Still, I forced myself to step forward and yank the door shut, bolting it tight before hurrying back upstairs.
Sliding into bed, I gripped the candlestick against my chest. The logical part of me said itwasjustthe wind, but the scared partwasn’tso sure.
Every creak of the house, every shift of the wind outside, made me flinch. I squeezed the candlestick tighter.
“Be brave,”I whispered over and over until, somehow, Ifinallydrifted off to sleep.
Twenty Five
TheHarrisonCountyAnimalShelter sat on the outskirts of town, half-hidden by overgrown weeds. It resembled more of a neglected barn than a refuge, and could be easily missed if you weren’t looking for it.
I stepped out into the glare of the afternoon sun, cicadas buzzinglazilysomewhere off in the distance.
“Thislookspromising,”I murmured, eyeing the chipped paint and grimy windows.
After last night,I’ddecidedthatthe whole“living alone”thingwasn’tfor me.Maybeitwastime togeta roommate—one with fur and a bark loud enough to let meknowif someonewascreeping around.
I pushed open the heavy front door, the bell above it giving a half-hearted jingle. A chorus of barks erupted from somewhere down the hall, where a tall, slender woman appeared, lookingslightlyannoyed.
“Don’t mind them,”she said, sliding into a worn-out chair behind a cluttered desk. “We don’tgetmany visitors here.”
Her jet-black bob framed her faceperfectly, but itwasthe vivid tattoos trailing down her arm and across her chestthatcaught my attention. At her feet, a hefty orange cat wovelazilybetween her legs.
“This is Henry,”she said, scooping him up.“He’s nosey as hell andhassome. . . personal space issues.Buthe’s neutered, so at least he won’t pee on your pillow.”She set him back down, scrunching her nose in a waythatmade the silver hoop in her nostril glint in the light.“He alsosmellskinda funky. It’s a genetic thing—I think. He’s been here a while, so he might have a hard time adjusting, but if you’re interested, I’ll waive the adoption fee.”
Henry blinked at me, his butterscotch eyes narrowing before he let out what sounded like a disgruntled sigh.
“Uh, thanks,”I replied, glancing between her and the cat.“ButIwaskind of leaning toward a dog.”
“Oh!”the woman sprang up from her chair soquicklyit startled Henry, who darted down the hall. She extended her hand toward me with a grin.“I’m Danielle, but everyone calls me Dani.”
“Emily,”I said, shaking her hand as we made our way toward the back of the building.
The insidewassurprisinglyin much better condition than the outside appeared to be. Thelargetile floors gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, and the lobby shelveswereneatlystocked with leashes, food bowls, and other essentials for new pet owners.
“So, do you live in town?”Dani asked, glancing back at me as we walked. The barking grew louder, forcing us to shout as we turned down another hallway.
I adjusted the strap of my purse. “Sort of. I’m staying at the Magnolia House—”
Dani whirled around, her green eyes bright with excitement.“Shut up! You meanthatcreepy old farmhouse at the base of the mountains?”
I groaned.“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“That’s so cool!” she gushed, practically bouncing. “Iheardthe woman who livedtherewasa witch, and nowthatshe’s gone, the place is supposed to betotallyhaunted.”
I thoughtbrieflyof last night,thenquicklyshoved it away.
“Thatwitchwasactuallymy grandmother,” I said,hesitantly. “She passed away a few weeks ago, so now the house is mine.Asfar as Iknow, it’s not haunted—justold and kind of creepy.”
Dani stopped. Turning to face me, her expression shifted.“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s fine,”I said, waving it off.“Honestly, I’m used to it.”
A grin tugged at her lips.“Between you and me, I lovethatshit—witches, ghosts, all of it. I bet your grandmotherwasa total badass.”
