Scarlett Romero has spent her entire life as an ordinary citizen; going to school, getting a job and definitely not killing people in the middle of the woods on a Friday night.
Until one Friday night, she does.
All she can remember is acting out of...
You have no idea How easy it is to fall Back into the darkness.
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Chapter Twenty-Eight "Violence on My Mind"
Scarlett's POV:
I hiss, cursing under my breath as the air whispers a laugh in my head. For the past week I've been trying to get it to protect the house. I want it to create an illusion that'll show nothing but upturned dirt and bubbly mud in place of the house. Instead, it likes to pull up the porch planks and feign dramatic sword fights with them.
It doesn't help that the others don't share my frustration. They clap and cheer the air's play before going about their own business. We don't have electricity or running water in the house, so Natalia and Kylie spend their time collecting water from the nearby stream and boiling it over a fire.
Alexander has collected enough firewood to fill half of the kitchen, and now that he's out of the prison, Achilles has made an increase in appearances. The lycanthrope will hunt for food, coming back with an assortment of skinned rabbits and edible plants.
Sometimes I think Alexander just likes being in his second skin – I found him sleeping in a little dip amongst a group of tall trees, curled up in his fur with his tail draped over his eyes to block out the sun.
I huff, crossing my arms over my chest and stomping back inside. The curtains are open wide enough for the sunlight to slip in, catching the dust that stubbornly lingers despite our best efforts to beat it from the furniture.
Kylie laughs as I sit next to her. While I've been focused on our physical protection, Kylie has dealt with the technological side of things. She's named the land a hazard zone, and the demolishment that was meant to happen in a couple days has been cancelled, all within an hour after we settled in the house.
Let's just say she's been more successful than me.
My only claim to fame is getting the earth to cooperate and divert anyone who gets too close to the outskirts of the farmland. Other than that and staying away from Monica, I've been wandering around like a lost puppy.
"The air still won't do what you want?" Kylie asks, sipping water from one of the three broken glasses we found.
I shake my head, "Nope. I'm sure when it comes down to it, it'll protect us to the best of its abilities, but I'd rather have it working now than it potentially backfiring if we're ever in danger."
Kylie hums her agreement. We haven't had much time to talk, despite not doing a lot during the day. There are so many things I have wanted to ask her; how she knew about the supernatural community before prison, what she meant when she told me, don't trust the red, and how her grandmother's notebook and knife were supposed to help.
