But where else would I go?

I was about to give up and start for home when I heard a sound—a convulsive, high-pitched sound. Was it…crying?

A woman crying? Or maybe a girl? It was hard to be sure, with the wind and rain and my rumbling engine.

I used my hand to clear a circle in the fogged-up window, and stared out at the field.

I didn’t see anyone, but the sound wasn’t in my imagination, that much I was sure of—it was so distinct that I could hear each individual sob.

A voice in my head said, Get out of here.

But there was some part of me that needed to defy the voice—or at least second-guess it. As much as I hated Lydia, what I hated slightly more was the idea of being so fearful of her that I let it change me into a person I didn’t want to be.

And I didn’t want to be a person who ignores a cry for help.

My body ached with dread at the thought of what—or whom—I’d find…but I got out of the car.

Standing in the rain again, I could hear the crying as clearly as if the girl were ten feet away.

I pocketed my phone and walked closer to the crumbling soil at the edge of the field, looking out across the clover.

She was obviously, like, right there.

“Hello?” I said.

It wasn’t a terribly dark night; rather than blocking out the moonlight, the clouds diffused it into an allover glow, with a few stars twinkling through the clear spots.

If somebody were moving around out there, I’d have seen her already. Which meant she wasn’t moving. She was hurt.

I took a step out into the dirt. “Hello? Who’s there?”

The crying stopped, as if the girl hadn’t known anyone could hear her.

“Are you okay?” I called. “Where are you?”

The answer was a pitiful sob.

“Are you hurt?” Three more steps in. I stayed aware of the clear path waiting behind me. “Tell me where you are! I’ll come help you!”

Silence again.

What if it wasn’t really a person crying? What if it was Lydia trying to get me to wander out into the darkness? Maybe this was how she’d lured Kendra out of her house in the middle of the night. Looking at the situation objectively, it didn’t make sense at all that there would be a real person out there. Would they find my car the next morning with a yellow rose on the dashboard?

I took a few more strides forward, blinded by the cold raindrops and my fresh disgust. “We had a deal! I guess now that you’ve let your end go, I can—”

I was about to turn and leave. But a fresh burst of sobs hit my ears, and I forced myself to stop and reconsider.

There had been plenty of situations in my life that didn’t make sense—objectively. Just because I didn’t know who was out there didn’t mean it wasn’t a real person.

If she dies…whoever she is…it will be your fault.

Again.

So I kept going. I went cautiously, slowly. Ten feet. Another ten.

By this time, I was a fair distance from the road, and there was no sign of an injured girl—except for the crying. She still cried, and she still sounded like she was ten feet away. But I’d called out to her multiple times, and she hadn’t said so much as “Help.”

If I could hear her, surely she could hear me.

And surely…she would have said something…

If she was a real person.

Forget this.

I stopped and made an abrupt about-face. But as I started back in the direction of the road, I heard the crying again—

Now it was in front of me.

Whatever was out here…it wasn’t a girl. Not a human girl, anyway.

“Stop it, Lydia!” I yelled. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

The wailing ended abruptly, like it was a recording and somebody had switched it off.

Just keep going. You’re almost there—

A laugh. A brilliant, sparkling, musical laugh.

So close it sounded like the person was right next to me.

As a flash of lightning lit up the night, I flinched and hunched over, waiting for the clap of thunder. A moment later, I realized that it had never come.

That wasn’t lightning.

It was the white light.

I turned and ran blindly, managing to go about four feet before tripping over the cutoff stubble of whatever had last been harvested from the field. I went flying and landed flat on my stomach, my face splashing into the wet green leaves, but I scrambled up and started running again.

Almost immediately, something clotheslined me, hitting me hard in the throat. The explosive shock of pain buckled my knees and left me doubled over and gasping.

The laughter came again, only now it seemed to be surrounding me, coming from every side. I gagged against the pain and tried to catch my breath, managing to suck in a shallow stream of air as I struggled to get to my feet.

But I’d only taken a few steps when the whole world started spinning like a merry-go-round with me at the center. I tried to take another step, but I couldn’t seem to keep myself from walking in a spiral over the mad obstacle course of the uneven ground. Every turn I made to correct my path went too far in the other direction. I lost my footing and dropped to the muddy ground, trying to find stability on my hands and knees.

Still, the world looped around me. And when I looked up at the patchy clouds, the rain seemed to be falling in circles. The stars wobbled, swelling and contracting, as the sky itself moved in waves overhead.

The laughter never stopped. It didn’t sound brilliant and sparkling anymore—it was hard and glinting and cruel.

Finally, I gave up trying to move and clung to the ground. But even then I seemed to slip forward, like I was falling downhill—or being dragged. My chin scraped against a rough, broken root as my hands groped through the delicate clover for something solid to hold on to, but they only grabbed clumps of muddy earth.

Wherever Lydia was trying to take me, I didn’t want to go.

I curled into a ball and covered my face with my arms.

I give up.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the laughter stopped.

For a minute I lay there curled into a ball, hearing raindrops padding on the soft green leaves around me.

Then I sat up, on the alert for the slightest hint of Lydia’s demonic laughter, ready to throw myself back down to the ground.

I glanced up. The clouds were at rest in the sky overhead. The rain came down in soft sheets instead of spirals.

So I started back for the road on my shaky legs. Once I got some momentum, I upgraded to a slow jog, navigating the slick terrain as fast as I dared.

My car was just a short walk up the sloping hill. I stumbled the few remaining feet to the grass and fell to my knees, somehow feeling safe now that I was off the soil. But even though I knew the attack was over, I was too frightened to look back out at the field.

The car was still running, thank God. I got in and checked the clock.

Five minutes. I’d only been out there for five minutes.

A racking cough forced its way out of my lungs, and the effort made my throat feel like someone had lit it on fire.

In the rearview mirror I could see blood mixing with rainwater on my forehead, where something had scraped the skin at my hairline and turned my white hair pink. A red line crossed my throat, and a bright pink semicircle decorated my jaw. I was pretty sure they’d both be revolting purple-and-black bruises before long.

I couldn’t go home like this.

THE SOUND OF THE DOORBELL echoing inside the house almost made me dash back to my car. But just as my nerve totally abandoned me, the porch light came on, illuminating me like an actor on a stage. And it was too late.

Jared stood at the open door, a big confused smile on his face. The edges of his dark hair were still damp from where the rain had crept under the hood of his poncho. His wide brown eyes settled on me.