Taking Light {Sequel: "For Love of Evil"}

-17-

*
Lyra stood beneath the trees in the dark of the night. The full moon shined bright; the dead leaves blew past her feet, the sound of the wind a whistling howl.

She could hear something rustling the leaves on the earth's floor; something was approaching. She could see movement—the ground moving before her.

Lyra stepped back, in a terrified attempt to get away from the assuming danger. She tripped, stumbling to the ground in a hard thud. Her eyes grew wide at what laid before her feet.

A naked young woman lied face down on the ground; her head facing Lyra. Her eyes were dead; her once dark brown irises now gleamed a fishy white. Her lips were purple, her skin pasty. Lyra tried crawling away, gasping in horror as she pushed herself back away from the corpse, all the while keeping her eyes on the body.

"Help me." The dead girl spoke in an audible whisper. Lyra got to her feet, running away from the helpless young woman.

Lyra stood behind the nearest tree, bracing herself against the bark as she tried catching her breath. Tears streamed down her face, cautiously peeking out from behind the wooded stump. Her mouth fell agape when seeing there was more than only one dead girl.

Lyra slowly moved away from the tree, gazing at the dead bodies in horror—the bodies of five young women laying naked, creating a full circle, each corpse beside a tree.

The leaves began moving again; causing the center of the ground to appear to open. Lyra's back bumped into something. She turned, her apprehensive gaze shifting to whatever (or whoever) was behind her.

Roman towered above her, standing like stone with a menacing look in his eyes. He took Lyra's face in his hands, "I told you not to open the door." Roman growled.
*

Lyra's eyes shot open. She sat up in the bed, nearly hyperventilating with a thin layer of sweat covering her body. She gazed around the room, noticing that she was alone as she whipped the covers back, getting to her feet. She rushed to put some clothes on, all the while calling out for Roman.

Lyra sat on the edge of the bed, focusing on breathing in and out, trying to calm herself. She had stopped having the dreams. When Lyra died, she assumed the dreams had died with her.

Collecting her thoughts, Lyra managed to pull herself together. She stood, getting ready to make the bed in an attempt to distract herself from the dream she couldn't seem to shake.

That's when she spotted it—a handwritten note resting upon Roman's pillow. Lyra groaned, making her way around the bed to read it. She held it in her hands; her eyes growing wide at the sight of what was written.

"I'll be back later, don't open the door for anyone."

Lyra crumpled the page in her hand, tossing it onto the bed. Where had Roman gone? Her thoughts began to race, wondering what had possessed him to leave without waking her. Roman had never owed Lyra an explanation for his whereabouts, but the more truth they began to uncover meant that if they wanted to stay ahead of the threat, they all had to work together.

Things were serious now—lives were at stake; danger was in every corner of Hemlock Grove. The trio had only each other to trust. Now was not the time for secrets, nor was it the time to split up without warning at least one member of their unorthodox group where they were, or planned to go.

Lyra sprinted to the nightstand, grabbing her cell phone. She tried calling Roman, but to no avail did he answer. She made her way down the stairs, calling Roman again. She was determined to keep calling until he answered.