He Who Flew Too Close

Chapter 6

All the blood rushes to my head. My heart drowns away into a sea of black dots and ringing static, and I feel weak inside, knees wavering like paper.

The killer went into the dorms. Unless they escaped through the window, it's someone in the church.

I release a ragged pant. Someone could be dead on the other side of that door.

I want to run. Yet, something is calling me forward. It's just like that beautiful music that night – the pied-piper of fate lures me forward. This person is trying to involve me. And I am supposed to be the savior of this church. I can go ahead and hide, but it will catch up to me. There is no running away from this. My legs feel too weak to move, but they are moving. 

This is my destiny. My duty to solve. 

I've never been more afraid in my life, but I know I have to greet whatever Hell awaits me on the other side of that door.

My hand fumbles toward the doorknob. It's cold. Icy. As if tainted by the cold-blooded nature of the killer. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. If something goes wrong, Apollo will protect me, right?

Deciding just to get it over and done with, I thrust the door open. 

I am met by eerie stillness. Panels of moonlight glare through the corridor. I scan the doors; all looks in order until…

I freeze. A lump slithers through my throat.

My bedroom door is open.

The ghastly moonlight illuminates a presumably corpse-like sickness upon my skin. Dread crawls upon every inch of me, and, somehow, I am hit by a premonition. A cold sweat trickles down my forehead; blood is roaring in my ears. I know what's coming. I know what I'm going to see before I've even opened that door. 

My soul leaves my body as I thrust the door open.

The mattress has been thrown aside. The Lupine book sits open, bundled like a dreadful little present upon my pillow. 

My breathing quivers.

They know.

My knees are weak. I sink to my bed, struggling to stand all of a sudden. My teeth begin to jitter – they know I've been reading about matebonds. It hits me individually each time, each blow harder than the last. I dig my fingers into my arms, wanting to yell; they know, they know, they know, they know! 

My stomach knots. Aching anxiety rips through me. The killer knows my sin – feeling entirely naked, I am scorned by Apollo's scornful daylight. I huddle my shoulders and make myself small. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?!

I grimace. My hand starts to shake as I reach toward the book. I feel so exposed I want to puke. What awaits me inside?

It's professional looking cursive – a far cry from the erratic-looking handwriting of the other night. The words tear through me like bullets.

"Lorelei, you've been very naughty, haven't you? You better be careful. Something bad will happen to you if you get caught.

PS,

If you want to find something out, you should look into Terry Shovel.

I stare at the page for a moment. Then, I jam my nails into my mouth. I'm not really taking in the second part; I'm too stuck on the first. Is that a threat or a warning? No, there's no way that isn't a threat – they're a damn killer! My teeth cut through my nails like freshly trimmed grass; what do I do?! Will they rat me out? 

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Wait. What was that second part?

I cringe as I read the page. Terry Shovel. He's… really weird. Sometimes, he just stares at you, but when you catch him, he keeps staring at you, dead in the eye. I don't know much about him – he hasn't been here long. We have two branches of the church so far, and he transferred from the other to here, which is strange because it's very hard to get in and out of this church. I don't know why we keep building in the middle of nowhere – if we want to expand, we should go into the big cities, right?