Dimokre Chronicles Book 2: Sarah's Fate

Chapter 8 - Showers and Being Followed

Michael worked his whole shift with Sarah staying until the end. He kept telling her she could go home, but she insisted on staying. She only asked for a pen. As Michael worked in the diner, she worked on Julie's journal. In between tables, he'd peer over to see how deep into the notebook she was in. By the time he clocked out and came back to her, pulling his backpack over his shoulder, she was on a page in the middle of the notebook, written entirely in capital letters.

"Uh, you ready?"

Sarah looked up at him, and Michael's heart dropped, seeing tears in her eyes.

"That late already?" she asked absently. She glanced at her phone, saw it was indeed late, and sniffed. She hopped off her chair and gathered her things up. She wiped her eyes. "Yeah, let's go."

"Sure..." Michael walked her out, flipped the sign closed, and locked up. He began walking her home, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. He glanced over at her. "You... wanna talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Why you're crying?"

"Oh, nothing you don't know about already. It was kinda therapeutic, reliving through everything and writing it down."

Michael cleared his throat, nodding. "Okay, glad it's helping then," he said, ignoring how guilty he felt.

Sarah linked her arm into his, and in response, he slipped his hand out of his pocket to hold hers. He could tell she had yet another vision. Despite her face turned away from him, he could still see the faint blue glow. He asked once, but she said it was nothing. He hoped it really was.

The couple reached her house, and Sarah went inside. Her dad and Michael exchanged some awkward small talk. It was clear Bryan didn't like her being out so late with him, but after Michael explained she waited for him to finish working, her dad seemed to lighten up. Michael nodded a goodbye and walked down the porch steps.

The light vanished as the door closed, but Michael didn't feel alone. Someone was still watching him; the tense feeling prickled on the nape of his neck. He turned around, expecting Bryan to be standing behind the window, but he wasn't there. Michael walked to the edge of the street, pretending not to notice a nearby bush rustling.

Not a shifter. No shifter would be that clumsy. As he turned and began walking home, he considered it being Kael following him. Sometimes the kit liked to play a hunting game on Michael to practice his tracking skills. But even in the beginning, Kael's footsteps weren't this loud, and when Michael turned suddenly—as he had just now, Kael's breathing wasn't so loud and he never retreated so noisily into a bush.

So, someone was following Michael. Not Kael. Not a shifter. Based on how easily panicked by adrenaline, probably not a spirit at all. The footsteps were light, quiet except when retreating. Almost like Sarah's, but with more purpose, more intense.

Michael paused, absently checking to see if the street was clear. He made sure it would be clear for a while, so his follower could keep up. He was about halfway home at this point. If he passed this next corner, this would be too long to coincidentally be walking in the same direction. He passed the corner, and sure enough, the person followed him.

He turned, and the person darted behind a brick mailbox. He smelled blood. Did they scratch themselves against the mailbox? Michael sighed and walked silently back to it.

"Hey," Michael said. He looked down at Julie, who had her face buried into her legs as she squeezed herself as close to the mailbox as possible. "C'mon, I'll walk you home. It's getting late."

"Okay," Julie muttered, standing up and going to Michael's side.

He gestured for her to lead, and Julie walked in a different direction from Michael's home. The two were silent for a while. He eyed Julie's hands, clenched into fists at her side. This silence wasn't comfortable like with him and Sarah.