Page 8 of The Last Fire

The others start forming a circle, and I drop down on my knees, ready to fight my way through and get to my mom.

“Becca, watch out!” My mom’s desperate voice echoes as she remains on the ground.

I raise the bat, swirling it in the air, ready to strike, as another dude tries to sneak up on me. I grip the handle tighter, hyper-aware of their movements. My heart refuses to listen. Adrenaline surges through my veins, my breath erratic and wild.

I’m desperate.

A noise distracts me, and I see my oldest nightmare emerging from behind our car, dragging a bat across the parking lot. The sickly green lights flicker as if in the most horrifying movie I’m living.

A human body with a pig’s head.

It’s one of the Crasnics of Matlock.

It’s him, the Crasnic who wore a school uniform on the night of the Last Fire!

With his short boar-like teeth and flattened snout, he’s now suited up and probably has these people wrapped around his little finger.

My palms are sweating on the bat’s handle, and my legs are starting to shake.

I know that mask way too well, and just the realization is sending me into overdrive.

He’s the most dangerous one among the bunch. I freeze, and it’s way too late when I see the shadow of a bat rising behind me, above my head.

“Rebecca, watch out!” My mom throws her hand up in my direction, but I’m too slow.

I get hit square in the back, and the bat slams into my torso, knocking the wind out of me. At the same time, the Crasnic’s bat rises, and before my legs give out, in that split second, the image of my unconscious mother being dragged into a car with tinted windows reflects in my eyes.

CHAPTER 2

Nine years ago

Rebecca

Okay, stay still!” I tell him, and my palms start getting sweaty.

Keeping still isn’t much of a challenge for Sami. He’s a pretty laid-back kid, except when he’s sprinting ahead of everyone in the gang or climbing a tree to get a glimpse of some curious owl. He doesn’t stand a chance of actually catching one, but he never gives up. I admire his determination; he’s like a role model to me. Along with his brothers, they made a stupid bet that whoever brings back two feathers from an owl’s tail wins a whole pack of Kinder Surprise. So, Sami made up his mind to bring back the entire owl.

“What’s up, Becca?” Samael grins, and my ears start burning.

He looks around, stopping on the second stone in the druids’ cave where we took cover from the rain.

“I’m drawing you,” I reply, pencil in hand, trying to find a good angle.

“But you suck at drawing!” he chuckles, revealing a slightly crooked canine peeking out from his perfectly contoured lips.

I freeze, unable to tear my eyes away from his mesmerizing smile.

Did I mention how much I like his smile?

It’s like a rare gem; he hardly ever flashes it, but when he does, it’s absolutely stunning.

It’s a rare sight; he doesn’t flash it often, but that’s precisely why it holds such beauty.

Oh, and did I mention that my drawing skills are atrocious?

Samael is well aware of this, ever since that final year of kindergarten when I was still a newcomer, while he was about to level up to third grade. We had a friendship circle with all the groups, and Samael teamed up with me. He was the one who taught me that in coloring books, you start with the inside of the outline, not the outside.

Undoubtedly, Samael is a smart boy.

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