"Before I tell you what we're doing here, take this," Felix says.
He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, and takes out a small piece of paper folded in two. Alastaire rolls his eyes as Felix passes the note to me over the table, closing my hand over it.
I'm still in such a state of shock at finding them in my house that it takes a second to register that Felix Lockhart's hand just touched my hand.
"Read it after we've left," Felix says. "And don't show your friend. It's for your eyes only. Understand?"
I nod, tucking the paper away into my hoodie pocket.
"Basically, you're going to help us with a... project," Felix says.
He's ordering me. There's no 'please', no 'if you want to.'
"You want me to help you?" I ask, searching his face for some sign he's joking. His expression is as indecipherable and distant
The dappled afternoon sunlight is warm against my back as I cycle through Forest Park.Everything is threaded with green, and the slow buzz of summer. Every now and again I stop riding to look at the sword ferns and bracken lining the dirt trail, and the thick canopy of firs and lushly leaved maples overhead.It feels so good to be back in the forest. We've lived on the edge of the park my whole life, and I used to know it like the back of my hand.Since the accident, I haven't visited even once.After I've been riding for almost half an hour, I hop off my rusty old BMX and pull Felix's note out of my pocket.Unfolding it, I study it for the hundredth time.I still can't believe he drew me a map.Two lines intersect at a 45-degree angle. One is labeled 'Wildwood', the other, 'Chestnut'. There's a big X where they meet.And at the
Okay. Now or never.I knock once on the front door's wood paneling, peeking into the cabin through the stained glass panes.Everything's a jewel-colored blur through the glass, but I can just make out the shapes of furniture in the hallway and a light at the end of the hall – probably a window or another door.I wait a few seconds before knocking again, louder this time.There's a sound like someone falling over something, followed by muttered cursing.My heart skips a beat as the front door suddenly swings open.Lyall is standing in front of me wearing nothing but his boxers and a pair of fluffy pink bunny slippers.His reddish-brown hair is flat on one side and sticking out on the other, a cinnamon-colored bed head disaster that he still somehow manages to make look adorable. His eyes are half closed, and he flops sideways against the doorf
A kiss lands on my cheek as the hand is pulled away from in front of my eyes.Alastair unwraps himself from around my shoulders and flops onto a kitchen stool next to me. He's dressed even more scantily than Lyall, in a thin white robe like people wear at health spas.I wonder if he's wearing anything underneath.OMG don't think about that! It's as if I'm a dirty old man perving on schoolgirls. Breathe. He just kissed me on my cheek. Ignore that. Didn't happen. Breathe.I sneak a glance at his beautifully defined chest peeking out from the robe and my face reacts by turning a fierce, burning red.Everything about him just looks amazing. Especially his hair. Messy dark blonde, slightly damp – probably from the shower.My cheek is warm and tingling where he kissed the skin.Get a grip Ashling. Don't freak out over
Thump. Thump. Thump.My heart is beating so hard against my ribs I feel like it's about to jump out of my chest on to the kitchen counter.I've managed to keep fairly calm up to this point, but the thought of Lyall making pancakes for me... I want to do a crazy fangirl dance.Lyall hums quietly to himself while he stirs the batter, and Felix is sitting next to me with his head down on the counter. He hasn't even touched his tea yet.Alastaire flicks through something on his phone.There's no reception out here, so I'm tempted to ask what he's doing, but I don't want him to think I'm being nosy.The guys don't seem to notice how nervous I am, and realizing this helps me to calm down. I clutch my mug a little less tightly.Everyone's lost in their own thoughts.Apart from Lyall's softly murmured tune and the clinking of the spoon ag
“Your guess is as good as mine,” says Alastaire as he pokes at a pancake with his fork.“He went out for a bit,” Lyall says in between mouthfuls. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Don’t stress ‘bout it Kit.”“He went out?” says Kitty, her eyebrows knitting together in worry.“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Alastaire says. “He’s just out doing loner junk in the forest. Typical.”Kitty shakes her head, looking gloomily at the counter.“You worry too much,” says Ben as he pats her on the back. “It’s not like he’s gonna get run down by a rabid pack of bloodthirsty fangirls this deep in the woods. Unless you told your buddies about us, Ashling.”He winks at me, and I almost choke on the bite of pancake I was busy swallowing.
"I'm not buying it," Kitty says as she drags me between moss-drenched oak trees and ferns, over the faint path snaking through the forest. "Why are you really here?"She's holding my hand so hard that I can feel her nails biting into the flesh of my palm. Even though she doesn't turn around as she asks the question, I can imagine her expression. There's a growl in her voice, something almost feral.She pulls me along behind her at a steady march, further and further away from the cabin, deeper and deeper into the forest.My skin prickles with goose bumps as the space between the trees lessens, and the woods get subtly darker. The overgrowth is thicker, the path more difficult to see than I remember it.Is this the way I came earlier?Then I see it. Just a few feet away, an impossibly dark shape streaks through the trees to my left, skittering away into the gloom. To
I'm lying in my bed beneath the covers.My grandmother tucks me in. As she leans over me, she blocks out the light from my bedside lamp, and her wild tangle of flame red curls threaded with silver is lit up from behind. A halo fit for an angel. I must be about four years old. By the time I was seven, gran's hair had turned completely white.The memories that flicker through my dreams are soft and shimmering. Everything glows brighter than its real life counterpart, bursting with radiance, swimming in muted light."So, what will it be tonight my bairn?" She asks, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "Sleeping Beauty? Rapunzel? Or maybe The Little Mermaid? It's been ages since you last heard that one."Most nights I'm perfectly happy to hear any of the countless fairy tales my gran tells. I've heard the same stories a million times over, and they never get old. But tonight is different.
The last fragments of the dream swirl through my mind and disappear like smoke on the breeze. I wake up to five missed calls from Zee, and a string of increasingly hysterical texts from Jamie.16.30: Hey hun. Howd it go? Zee said you should be done by 5. Still up for coffee at night owl? Xx16.52: Babe? U there? We're at the usual spot.17.25: BABE WTAF WHERE R U? ANSWER YOUR PHONE18.48: K we're gna bail. Hope ur ok? X20.10: OMFG BABE ANSWER YOUR PHONE SRSLY21.05: I'm worried can u call me? Did everything go ok with the band? Did something happen babe?22.34: HOLY SHITBALLS ANSWER YOUR PHONE GEEZI've always been a deep sleeper – my parents say I could probably sleep through the apocalypse – but this is ridiculous. I passed out as soon as I got home yesterday, and I slept like the dead for more than twelve hours, even though my phone must have been buzzing all night.Tha