Page 89 of Into the Dark, We Go
"What’s inside?" his sister was already tugging at the door. But it was secured with a metal deadbolt and a padlock.
"No way we’re breaking in without leaving a trace," Mitchell asserted.
"Who cares?" June said dismissively.
"We don’t know who might care. That’s the whole point."
"What if the grimoire is in there?" June asked, pressing her face against the wooden panels to get a glimpse inside.
"I doubt that," Mitch said, but walked along the wall of the shed regardless.
June knocked on the door and listened for a response. None came.
The sudden appearance of a man-made structure in the woods unsettled me, like stumbling upon a witch’s house. My whole body tensed, half-expecting someone to step out from behind the trees. Someone who had probably been watching us all along.
June was already by the big stone.
"Looks like an altar," I cringed.
"That’s creepy," the girl agreed.
I noticed something on the stone and leaned in to see better. A dull, reddish-brown discoloration nestled in the crease of the facade.
"Is this…blood?" Mitchell leaned over next to me and picked the stain with his nail.
"Now,thatis creepy," June repeated, drawing out each word like it left a bad taste.
Her brother pulled out a ziplock bag and a knife from his backpack. Like a detective from a movie, he carefully scraped some of the blood into the bag and sealed it. Then, he folded it neatly and tucked it away.
"Okay, well. At least we know the location now. And we can keep an eye on it," I said.
"It’s a bit of a walk to keep an eye on it. But we should come back before the full moon and see if anyone else shows up," Mitchell suggested.
We explored further and confirmed that the clearing was indeed surrounded by the carvings in the trees, enclosing the place in a circle.
"You said they were protecting something? What?" Mitch asked Nick.
"I’ve no idea."
"How did you know that?"
"Just a guess. We should get back. It’s going to get dark soon."
But darkness fell earlier than expected, as rain crept in and shrouded the woods. Mitchell rummaged through his backpack and produced a raincoat, handing it to his sister without hesitation. Walking through the woods, trying to outrun the encroaching gloom, felt deeply unsettling. I kept sensing someone’s eyes on our backs, and despite Mathilda’s warnings, glanced back a few times—only to see the dismal trees looming behind us.
Though the feeling persisted, I kept it to myself, fearing that speaking aloud would only make things worse and that the nightmare inside my head might spill into the world around us.
In the car, June asked, "Do you think Amanda was there? In that shed?"
Mitchell kept his eyes on the road. "I don’t know," he said.
"Maybe it was her blood on that stone."
"I don’t know, Junie," her brother sighed.
The darkness in my head stretched, whispering that it could have been Lucas’s, too.
I closed my eyes and silently pleaded it wasn’t.
