Page 46 of Foresyth Conservatory
I could easily say no to her, go up to my room, and close the door, but I’d be alienating her, after the friendship and trust she had shown me the past few weeks. Including access to her lab.
But hadn’t Aspen said I ought to suspect her? Maybe this would be a way to let her guard down so I could ask her about the night Julian died.
Nina nodded, her spikey strands of dark hair swaying across her shoulders.
“Very well,” I said, stepping out from the threshold of the House. It was starting to rain, and the air was cooling. It actually felt pleasant against my hot face.
I started after Nina, tracing her steps along the small dirt trail that went around the edge of the House.
“Here. It’s to the left.” Nina’s mouth twitched upright, and a tiny pang of worry formed in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to follow Nina. But a part ofme was glad to be out of the House and didn’t want to go back in—not just yet. My mind felt clearer somehow.
“Are you going to tell me at least where we’re going?” I asked, but Nina was too far ahead of me.
“Northeast quadrant,” she sang.
I ran after her as she slipped through a crack in the iron fencing that circumscribed the House, sucking in my breath to fit through the rails. We were definitely not supposed to be out here.
We traced the side of the forest facing campus for a while and then turned to enter deeper into the thicket. Having completely deviated from the path against the railing, we whacked our way through bushes of dried sweetgum and poplar as leaves squished beneath our feet.
“Are you sure this is okay, Nina?” I asked, swiping dead branches from my eyeline. “I don’t see any trail.”
“It’s here don’t worry; I know my way around these woods. Trust me,” she replied, motioning me to follow her.
We walked through the wet foliage for another quarter mile until we approached a tall oak tree with a single, faded white marking painted onto its stucco truck. “This is it. This way.” Nina disappeared behind the trees and I lost sight of her.
“Nina?” I called.
I rounded the tree, careful not to trip on the thick roots that broke from the soil underneath. The lights from the House had faded and the only source of illumination were the thin slivers of moonlight that fell through the dead branches overhead. An almost imperceptible buzzing was starting to bud from the base of my skull.
“Nina?” There was a slight shake in my voice.
Behind the tree there was a narrow path, just wide enough for one hiker to follow, tracing uphill. I followed the worn-down trail, feeling the blood rushing to my legs from the strain.
“This isn’t funny, Nina. Where are you?” I called again, hunching over.
I heard a faint rustle of tree leaves behind me and turned around, but there was no one there. I continued the steep climb until I finally saw a clearing at the top and picked up my pace. The buzzing started getting louder as I followed the rustling shadows. My legs were burning and aching for me to stop, but then I saw the silhouette of a lone figure at the top of the hill.
I broke into a sprint.
“Nina!”
I was gasping in greedy breaths, expelling plumes of moist air once I got to the top of the hill. I braced my hands against the tops of my knees and lifted my head toward the figure. The rain had stopped but the ground was wet, and my heels sunk into the mud. I lifted my gaze. Nina was standing at the edge of what seemed to be a circle of barren dirt, inexplicably dry. I had the sudden realization of how strange that was—to find an empty plot of dry land like that in the middle of a wild and thick forest. It had stopped raining just a minute ago.
“This is it, Dahlia. This is what I wanted to show you!” Nina turned around to face me. In the clearing, unabashed from the trees, the moon shone brightly, and I could see a wild glint in Nina’s dark eyes as a smile curled on her lips. The buzzing in my ears had turned into a fever pitch.
“This is the Devil’s Tramping Ground,” she said. “Nothing can grow here in this circle. Local legend says that Satan himself visits this circle and tramps it down bare with his hellish hooves, plotting and planning his sinister deeds against humanity. Everything that’s laid to rest here in this circle is said to disappear.” Nina’s eyes sparkled as she recounted the story. A jolt of fear shot up through my ribcage.
“Nina, I think we should—”
“But it’s a misnomer, you see. It’s not theDevil’sTramping Ground.” Nina shoved her hand into her pocket and fumbled for something.
I walked over to her slowly, wanting to grab her by the shoulder and lead her away from the circle before she got any closer. I wanted to run back down the hill and down to the safety and warmth of the House. We weren’t supposed to be out here.
The bevel of a shiny pocketknife caught in the moonlight as Nina unfurled it from her pocket. She crouched down low onto her hinds like a dog and shifted the hair away from her face before she ungloved her other hand.
“I thought it was really strange that I kept finding dead animals around this area. But now I know why. This circle—it doesn’t belong to the Devil.” Nina toyed with the blade of the knife, twisting the point at the center of her palm.
This wasn’t the dark pixie Nina I knew who got excited over brine baths and monster lore; no, this version was darker.Somuch darker.
