Page 70 of Forged in the Fire
Crimson Creek wasn’t big.
But it was quaint.
Cozy.
Tucked in the deepest part of the forest about two hours from the southern Oregon border.
I still wasn’t sure what’d possessed me to return here. This place haunted by ghosts and written in horrors. Memories so thick and chilling, each driven into my brain like an icepick.
Her voice still lingered on the breeze. At one with the trees as they swished overhead.
It’s your heart.
It was a simple statement and had seemed so simple then. Before that promise had become defiled by hate.
Most of Crimson Creek was spread out. Roads turning off and winding you down into the different neighborhoods. A cool restaurant, a motel, and some shops on the river.
But there was a congested area right in the middle built up with buildings and streets.
Most of them old but revamped.
It had a bit of an eclectic vibe. A ton of art galleries and quirky shops.
Before we made it to the center of it, I made a right at Crimson Creek’s only stoplight that led to the section of town that was less touristy.
A hardware store, some medical and professional offices, a couple of banks, a grocery store.
I slowed even more and slid into the lane to make a left into the drugstore.
My bike chugged low as it carried us through the parking lot and to an empty spot at the front, and I angled the metal around so I could use my feet to back us in.
My attention swept left and right to ensure nothing was amiss. To ensure I wasn’t recklessly hauling her out and making her a target.
Apparently, the only thingamisswas me.
I wondered if the residents here remembered me. If they knew exactly who we were and what had happened all those years ago. If our family had become gossip and speculation.
A faded headline that had come back to repeat itself. Nothing but aDatelineexposé.
Because every damned eye in the parking lot swung toward us.
Taking note of my presence.
Wary and unsure.
Whatever they remembered, the one thing they were certain of was that I’d brought trouble to their town.
Sticky fear slipping down their spines.
Didn’t really relish injecting it, but it was necessary.
My position commanded respect, and as much as they might like to think they were condemning me, I could still feel the most fundamental part of them bowing to me.
Killing the engine, I grabbed Brinley’s hand.
“Hop off.”
“I’m not sure I can walk after that.” Her breath was raspy and low and fuck, one sentence out of her mouth could trip a circuit in my brain.
