Page 98 of Into the Dark, We Go
"Coming here was a mistake. I’ll text you when I get there."
"Get where? Where are you going?" she asked, letting her arms drop to her sides.
Back to where I never should have left in the first place.
I dialedMitchell’s number again and again. His phone kept ringing, but no one answered. That went on for two hours straight. Even though Mitchell didn’t always pick up right away, I took it as a bad sign, especially when he still hadn’t called back.
I tried June next, but got the same result. Each unanswered call tightened my grip on the wheel, my frustration morphing into fear that something terrible had happened.
After another half hour of relentless attempts, I tried Mitchell’s number again. To my surprise, someone finally answered.
"Hello?" came a panicked reply.
It wasn’t Mitchell.
"Who is this?" I asked, unable to discern their identity.
"Nellie? Thank goodness it’s you!" Mathilda’s voice trembled like a leaf in an autumn breeze.
I pushed aside my relief and focused on the urgency in her tone. "Tilly, what’s going on? Why do you have Mitchell’s phone?"
Mathilda’s words were high-pitched and frantic. "You gotta get here! They know. They saw me. They’ll come for me!"
My heart sank like a stone. "Who’s ‘they’? Where are June and Mitch?" I asked, but the woman was too hysterical to answer.
"Please, come quick! I’m in the shop!"
"I’m on my way," I promised, trying to sound calmer than I felt. I was still more than an hour away. If Mathilda were in immediate danger, I would be powerless to help her in time.
"Can you call someone? Are you there? Hello?" The phone beeped, signaling that the call had disconnected.
My mind was spiraling, racing through worst-case scenarios faster than I could stop them. I gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles ached, fighting the urge to slam the gas pedal and just go. But somewhere in the back of my head, a small voice broke through the noise, reminding me that if I got into a car accident, I’d be no help to anyone.
Something bad was happening, and I could barely stay calm.
Even though I had promised Mathilda I’d go straight to her shop, I decided to make a detour to the cabin to check if Mitch and June were there. It was almost on my way, and, truthfully, I cared far more about my friends than I did about the witch.
The secondI turned onto the road leading to the cabin, a tight knot of dread twisted in my gut. My heart pounded like a drum during the drive up, a growing sense of foreboding creeping over me. Dark thoughts clouded my mind. What if Mitch and June were...
No, I couldn’t let myself think that.
The door was unlocked, which wasn’t like Mitchell at all. He was adamant about keeping it secure. I stepped inside, my senses on high alert. With the world around me coming to a halt, I felt the same way I had when walking into Duane’s house. I tried to push the morbid thought away, convincing myself that Mitch and June were safe. Mitchell was skilled with weapons; he had a gun and knew how to handle himself.
Our once-cozy refuge lay in shambles: cushions torn apart, drawers emptied, their contents scattered. Books had beenthrown off shelves, pages ripped from their bindings. My heart pounded as I scanned the wreckage, hoping against hope that Mitch and June had escaped before whoever did this arrived. The destruction was so methodical, it felt impossible for one person to have done it alone. They must have taken their time, going through every piece of furniture. Even the AC vents had been torn open. I grabbed a kitchen knife from the floor, holding it tightly in front of me, and forced myself to continue searching the rest of the cabin.
I scoured every room, but there was no sign of Mitch or June—not a forgotten toothbrush, not one of June’s horror movie t-shirts left behind, nothing to suggest they’d ever set foot in the place.
This wasn’t the first time someone had broken into our place. The same thing happened in that hotel room when we were away. That thought gave me a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the siblings hadn’t been there during the break-in. But who had done it and why? Were they looking for the photos? I’d left those with Mitch and June, since they were staying behind to continue the search. Or were they after something else? Something we’d dismissed as mere legend, but that Mathilda had wanted badly enough to risk coming here for?
The grimoire.
The front door creaked, and I jerked rigidly, my heart skipping a beat. Every instinct screamed at me to get out, and fast. I made my way back to the car, my eyes scanning the surroundings with every step. Only when I was back on the road, speeding away from the deserted house, did I relax a little.
The sound came from the front tire on the driver’s side. Before I could focus on it, trying to figure out what it was, the rhythmic thrum against the asphalt grew louder and more insistent. The car veered to one side, and I nearly lost control, but managed to bring it to a stop on the grassy verge of the road.I stepped out of the car and circled it in a panic. The tire was completely flat.
"Fuck!" I muttered, on the verge of tears.
Today was a day of reckoning, and I was paying the price.
