Page 113 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
I’m not fleeing to the cottage. I’m finding Ben. Smits said that the nekkers would take Ben when they came at full dark. That means he isn’t dead. Not yet.
Smits has put Ben somewhere to be taken by the nekkers. Not killed by the horseman, because Ben never hurt me. Instead, Smits must be using him as a sacrifice, following the ritual in the book. Ben is out here, on the property, probably near the shore, immobilized and waiting for the nekkers.
Waiting for full dark. Which is coming fast.
I race for the lake and burst out of the trees, hoping to see that it’s lighter here. It’s not. The sun has fallen below the horizon, and its light is sliding from the world.
“Ben!” I shout.
If Smits left him awake, he would have gagged him, but if Ben hears me, he can make a sound. A muffled cry. A kick against driftwood. Something. Anything.
I run blindly along the shore, knowing I need to slow down and search properly, but I can’t. The sun is gone. The moon is out. Ben ishere, somewhere, about to suffer the same fate as the others, dragged into the lake to become a nekker, like his brother.
He didn’t do anything,I want to rage. He has done nothing except suffer for what happened all those years ago, with Austin, and he did not deserve that either.
He is blameless. But so was Josie. So was Gail. So was my father.
So was everyone dragged into the lake. All those people that Smits killed for my mother.
He also murdered my father. On my mother’s orders.
I can’t process any of that. Focus on finding Ben. Get to Ben before—
A shape rises from the water, less than a hundred feet away. A figure, a little shorter than me, huge eyes fixed on me as he bears down.
Austin.
Thirty-Four
I backpedal. Austin keeps coming, and I want to turn and run, but Ben is here somewhere, and if I run, Austin and the other nekkers will kill him.
“Austin,” I say, and my voice wavers and cracks.
Austin left those animals for me. I might have accused Smits, but he’d had no reason to lie when he denied it, and my gut says it was Austin.
Smits said the nekkers’ souls—consciousness—were gone. Was that a lie? Either way, something remained, enough for Austin to lay out those dead animals for me.
Enough for him to attack me?
He keeps coming, and I inch back. Then I stop myself.
No more running. Not from Austin. I did the right thing to run as a child, but I am not a child now.
I reach down and scoop up the biggest rock I can fit in my hand. Then I wait.
Austin continues his relentless trudge my way. His gaze never wavers from my face. He sees his target. He has always seen his target, and I don’t know what I did to deserve being it.
Nothing. I did nothing. I was a child. I didn’t “lead him on.” I didn’t even want to be his friend, something inside me always waryaround him. Others—my mother, my grandparents, Austin’s parents—pushed me to be nice to him. Was that why he targeted me? Because I’d shown him some attention? Or had they pushed me to be nice to him because he’d already targeted me, and oh how cute, Austin has a crush on Sam?
What matters is that I did nothing to deserve the hell he put me through, and now I stand there with that rock, ready to do what I wished I could have done fourteen years ago. Drive him away. Hurt him, if I need to.
I feel terrible that he died because he hurt me, but I didn’tmakehim hurt me. I did everything I could to stop him from hurting me, and my father did, too, and yet Austin would not stay away, and he died for it, and I will not take responsibility for that. Or for whatever I need to do to protect myself now.
He stops in front of me, and it is so strange, looking down at him. He’d been growing fast at thirteen, towering over me. Now I look down and I see a boy. Nothing but a boy.
His gaze lifts to mine, the hate blazing. My hands tighten around the rock. But he just stands there, glaring, and even as hatred pulses from him, it’s empty and unfocused. As if he knows he hates me… but doesn’t know why. Doesn’t know what to do with that.
When he moves toward me again, I take a deep breath and stand my ground. Is he a threat? He doesn’tfeellike one anymore. Just a lost and angry little boy, needing a target for his rage and seeing me and… somehow no longer able to connect the two. Whatever remains of Austin in there, it’s not enough for him to understand why he hates me.
