A flat black cap is on the man’s head, creating a shadow over his eyes. Worn black leather gloves are on his hands, which are at his sides, and he stands only a few feet away, wearing a creaseless black trench coat. I have a feeling he’s staring at me, but I can’t tell due to the brim of his hat being so low.
“Who are you?” the man asks, voice gruff.
His voice. I know that voice. I just heard it moments ago, in my apartment. It’s deep, an English accent—a dialect I’m not familiar with. I’ve heard many people with all kinds of accents, thanks to my line of work, but not his. His is different and hard to forget—a voice that has haunted my dreams and played tricks with my mind.
I try to find the words to speak, but my tongue feels like a dead fish in my mouth.
The man moves forward, only now his hands aren’t empty. There’s a silver handgun in one of them, and he’s pointing it right down at me. The gun is twice the size of a regular handgun, the barrel so wide I can see into it without squinting an eye.
I throw my hands in the air. “No—wait!”
“I asked who you were.”
“I—I’m Willow. Willow Austin.”
“And where did you come from, Willow Austin?” he asks, the gun hovering inches from my face.
“I—I don’t know. I landed here, and that—that wolf started chasing me! If I’m not supposed to be here, I’m sorry! I’ll leave, I swear, j-just please don’t kill me!”
The man remains steady with the gun, and he tilts his head upward. When he does, I see his eyes. Icy blue, surrounded by thick, dark lashes. His eyes are both intimidating and alluring as he glares down at me.
“Are you from Ripple Hills?” he demands.
“I—no, I don’t know what that is.”
He squints his eyes, only slightly. “Vanora? Did Alora send you?”
“Please,” I plead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know where I am!”
The wolf growls at my outburst.
“Oi!” he shouts at the wolf. His eyes don’t leave mine. “Home. Now, Cerberus.”
The wolf doesn’t hesitate to dash away. As it does, the man lowers the gun and steps back. “Get up.”
I do as I’m told, wincing as I bring myself to stand. I face him and angle my chin upward a bit because he’s tall. Really tall. His jaw ticks as he looks me all over.
“You’re not dressed like you’re from Ripple or Vanora. Where are you from and why the hell are you on my property?”
“I told you,” I breathe raggedly. “I—I ended up here somehow. I really don’t know.”
He narrows his eyes at me, angling his head. “Have we met before?”
“I…I don’t think so…unless you work with Townsend a lot too, then maybe. Probably through Lou Ann.”
“Lou Ann?” He raises a brow.
“My boss.”
He stares at me blankly.
“Um…I’m sorry…do you happen to have, like um…a cellphone or something I can use?”
“A cellphone?” he asks, frowning now.
“Yes—like an iPhone or something? Even an Android? iPad?”
He grimaces, and by the way his jaw ticks repeatedly, I can tell he’s becoming aggravated. Okay, I get that we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere, but how the hell does he not know what a cellphone is?
“What territory are you from?” he demands.
“Territory? I, uh… What? I don’t understand the question. I’m so confused right now.” I swallow hard. “Look, I just want to go home,” I tell him, holding my hands up. “That’s it. I don’t want any trouble.”
“So you do have a home. Where?”
“Um…an apartment…in North Carolina.”
“What the hell is a North Carolina?”
“Oh, God.” I scoff, then I laugh because this man can’t be serious. I’m standing in front of a person who doesn’t even know what state we’re in, who owns a wolf, and has a gun. All red flags.
“I’m sorry, were you born under a rock? How do you not know what North Carolina is?”
He frowns but doesn’t respond. Instead, he lifts his gun again and aims it directly at my face, and I throw my trembling hands in the air.
“Turn around and walk.”
“I—where am I supposed to go?”
“Follow the path north.”
“North…north. Um…okay.” I turn around with a limp and hobble through the forest until I spot the path. I can either go left or right. Right feels like going north, so I turn that direction, but he clears his throat. I glance back, and he points the other way with the gun.
“Yep. Got it,” I whisper.
I limp my way along the path, and within two or three minutes, an iron gate appears. It reminds me of the gate that was in my dreams. Only there’s no heavy fog, and I can see what lies ahead very clearly: land—lots of land. The grass is cut neatly, and a rocky path leads to a gothic black castle. It stands tall, the tips of the dark roof flirting with the gray clouds in the sky. I stop walking to take in the view, my jaw nearly dropping. Where the hell am I?
“There’s an exit that way. Go to your North Carolina and don’t come back,” the man says behind me. I turn a fraction to look at him. He still has the gun pointed at me.
“You’re going to let me go?”
“I don’t care where you go, just don’t ever come back here.”
I swallow hard, but the saliva is rough going down. I wobble to the right where he’s pointing, and though I don’t see an exit, I don’t care. It’s better getting lost than being faced with a gun that size again.
I need to find help from someone nicer than this asshole.
“What was that?”
I spin around and face the man again. He’s lowered his gun a bit, just enough to see me clearly past his hand.
“What was what?” I ask.
“You just said something.”
I frown. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I heard you speak,” he retorts.
“I—I didn’t say a word.”
Frustrated, he lowers the gun. “Do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Think about something.”
“Um…okay.” I swallow hard and try to think of something random. Or clever. Faye would know what to think of. Knowing her, she’d think of a penguin or a baby chick…or books. She loves books.
Who the hell is Faye?
I shift my gaze up. “She’s my best friend.”
“What?” he asks, shock written all over his face.
“You asked who Faye is…”
“I didn’t ask that out loud.” He looks at me sideways. Then as if a realization dawns on him, his blue eyes expand. “Shit.” His throat bobs. “You’re that voice,” he says. “You’re her.”
“Who?”
The man looks me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time.
You can hear me.
My eyes stretch when I hear his voice, loud and clear, despite his lips not moving.
“H-how are you doing that?”
“Shit,” he curses again. The man clears his throat and tucks his gun away, then digs into his trench coat. He opens a silver case and plucks out what looks like a cigarette, except it’s all black. Pressing it between his lips, he lights it with a silver lighter, inhales, and then puffs out a large cloud of smoke. It doesn’t smell like an ordinary cigarette. It’s scent is sweeter, like maple syrup and spices.
“You’re her,” he says, nodding. “You’re that other voice in my head.” He gives his head a shake. “All this time I thought I was insane.”
This conversation is starting to feel real, and it’s weird, so I say, “Maybe we’re just dreaming?”
“Trust me,” he rasps, pulling from his cigarette thing again. “This is no dream.”
“What do you mean?”
He drops his eyes to my foot, and I look with him at the caked dirt and blood. “You’re bleeding. Follow me.” He walks past me toward the castle-like home.
I hesitate a moment as he marches away without looking back. I peer over my shoulder at the forest that was behind us, then toward whichever exit he pointed at that I still can’t make out, and figure it’s probably best to follow him than to wander around, lost. I don’t know this man, and I don’t know where I am, but he has shelter…and possibly a phone.
He also has a gun, I think to myself.
“Don’t worry about the gun,” he calls out, still walking toward the castle. “I won’t use it on you unless you make me.”
