The More Things Change

Seven

The chaos lasted long enough for several people to fall or run into one another. Thankfully, Matt and Caroline managed to calm everyone down. Matt came up with the idea that a few people should go to their cars for flashlights. By the time they came back, their bobbing beams carving through the darkness, most of the group had gathered around the fire. Aside from a general unease, everyone had settled.

Party over, we walked back down the trail, those with the flashlights interspersed throughout to give enough light for everyone to see. It made for a crowded exit. Jeremy, after disappearing briefly, came back and waited with me in the SUV for traffic to clear. He didn't speak as we bounced down the gravel road. Dust kicked up by all the cars ahead of us floated over the road as if fog floated in front of the headlights. When we reached the highway, he just turned on the stereo and leaned back into his seat, bored.

I couldn't shake the memory of Damon attacking him. Of Jeremy on the ground, eyes slipping shut as he lost consciousness. Of blood spreading out over the dirt and between the blades grass, drowning fallen leaves and twigs.

And if it wasn't the attack at the forefront of my mind, it was the firming suspicion I was haunted.

I was thoroughly freaked out by the time we arrived back at the Gilbert house. Too many fears packed into my head. While Jeremy jumped out of the SUV, I took a moment, staring at the back of the garage. Someone had set up a long wooden table and a tool rack. Grayson Gilbert? I stared at the wrenches and the hammers and red plastic shelving as the car clicked and creaked as it settled and tried to do the same to my mind.

I had done what I was supposed to. I'd gone to the party and everything had still turned upside-down. Meeting Damon early must've thrown too big a rock into the waters of fate. The ripples were spilling over.

Vicki hadn't been attacked. What would that change? Blowing out a breath, I rubbed my forehead. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, I climbed out of the SUV.

The grind and rumble of the garage door lifting startled me. Thinking it was Elena, fear rooted me in place as I watched the door lift. Then a pair of headlights shone from outside, and I squinted as a car rolled into the spot next to the SUV.

"Elena!" Jenna wasted no time cutting the engine and hopping out the passenger side of a Mini Cooper.

At the sound of her voice, I loosed a relieved breath. "Hey Jenna."

"Are you alright?" she asked, worry speeding her words as she shut the car door and moved around the SUV.

My brows drew together. "Yeah. Fine." I paused to amend, "A little tired."

"Oh good," Jenna breathed. Her hand flew to her purse and pulled out her phone. "I got all these texts—"

"You're not the only one." At her questioning look, I said, "I meant to tell you, I lost my phone. Someone must've found it. They're sending out these weird messages to people in my contacts."

The tension lifted from Jenna. I wished my own worries could've been so easily assuaged. "I'll call the service tomorrow and get it shut off." She replaced her phone in her bag.

"Thanks, Jenna." I hit the garage door opener before exiting the side door, Jenna right behind me. "How was your day?"

That sparked a conversation that lasted through a light dinner of leftovers. When we were finished, I carried a plate of food up to Jeremy's room. I wanted to check on him under the guise of delivering dinner. He opened the door when I knocked, but he was on the phone. He ended up taking the plate with a nod and going right back to his conversation, shutting the door behind him.