Page 107 of She Haunts Me Still

And Mallory breaks into a run.

She kicks up dirt and leaves as she sprints toward the gardens, hopelessness mounting with every step. She thinks about the blue house, about stretches of copper-soaked afternoon with her mother, playing make-believe. Her mother’s chestnut hair beneath the yawning sun, the freckles on her face when she didn’t wear makeup, the way something would twinkle in her eyes whenever she told a story. But the bright images collide into others, blending with the stale smell of cigarettes, the rote sound of cleaning at twoa.m., the dullness of boarded-up windows. As if they’re all one and the same.

Mallory races faster, attempting to outrun this strange, unidentifiable emotion. Like being homesick, but for a time, not a place. A time when she didn’t know the meaning of grief, didn’t know how it can burrow into your bones and live there, become a part of who you are.

It’s only when she’s surrounded by thorns that she realizes she’s run directly into the hedge maze.

And at the awareness, Mallory skids to a violent halt.

The midnight air is thick around her, the starless sky unforgiving and black. Her breath bursts in graying clouds as she whirls, trying to figure out how she got here.

She doesn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Doesn’t feel the shadow looming at her back.

Doesn’t notice she isn’t alone until Ezra’s hand clamps over her mouth.

Turning her scream to silence.

29

Mallory’s back connects with a snarl of thorns as she stumbles into the wall of the hedge maze.

“Breathe.” Ezra loops his other hand around her wrists, voice steady. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She writhes against him, growling beneath his wide palm.

“If I remove my hand and you scream,” Ezra starts, “you’re going to cause trouble for us both. You’ve really got to start trusting me, Jules.”

Rage burns inside her. Ezra grips harder, and her cheek presses into the rough greenery, branches biting her skin. With a muffled cry, she sinks her teeth into his palm as hard as she can until he snaps his hand away.

She doesn’t even scream, capitulation spreading in her chest. Ezra just stares, wounded palm pressed to his mouth, eyes wild and silent.

“All those nights we spent together,” she starts. “Holding hands. Chasing ghosts. This whole time you were manipulating me into trusting you. Intogivingmyself to you.” Humiliating tears prick at her lashes. “That night in the lighting booth. You said it. Not haunted.Possessed. Was that some sortof code, Ezra? Was I supposed to understand?” Her voice cracks. “Wasanyof this ever real?”

He swallows, hard, still holding her wrists. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”

Mallory’s tone grows bitter. “How about this one: What’s going to happen in the chapel tomorrow night? It’s not a gala. It’s acultmeeting.”

“Don’t do this right now,” Ezra warns quietly.

“A cult, where you worship a demon like a god,” she continues. “What does it give you in return for all the bloody hearts you’ve harvested all these years? Long life? Money? Power?”

Ezra narrows his eyes. His nostrils flare.

“Will you lay me out on the altar?” she asks. “Surround me with candles? What will you use? A scalpel? A dagger?”

“Stop.”

Crickets trill in the night sky. “Tell me: Will you kiss me one last time before you kill me?”

His jaw tightens. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. Foronce.”

Ezra holds her stare. She’s convinced he’ll refuse, but then he says, “Yes. There are supposed to be candles.”

Fear blossoms inside her, sour and quick.

“A dagger,” Ezra continues. “And if it came to it, I would. I would kiss you.” His gaze falters to her lips. “I’d kiss you until there was nothing left.”