Page 13 of Salem’s Rise

I give him one last glance and a wave goodbye. By the time I reach the cobbled steps of the library, I’ve already dismissed the whole encounter as my overactive imagination.

The doors are only a few yards away when someone grabs me from behind. One arm locks around my waist while a hand clamps over my mouth so hard, my teeth cut into the inside of my lip. It happens so fast, my body doesn’t even understand what’s going on at first, but then instinct takes over.

I drive my elbow backward as hard as I can, putting all my muscle into the movement. The person grunts and the arm around my waist loosens. Normally, it would be enough to give me room to escape a single attacker, but then another set of hands catches my wrists and wrenches both my arms behind my back. Someone else grabs my legs, slamming me to the ground. Pain shoots through my shoulders as I twist and kick, my boots scraping uselessly across the stone path.

I scream, but the sound comes out muffled as another heavy palm seals my mouth. A strip of black fabric drops over my eyes and is yanked tight behind my head, shutting out the library lights, the path, the entire world. Panic surges through me as strong arms lift me off the ground. I thrash harder, throwing my weight from side to side, catching someone’s shin with the heel of my boot.

“Hold her still,” a voice snaps, the sound distorted. Whoever is speaking is using some kind of voice modulator.

Something cold presses against the side of my neck.

A needle.

Fear floods my body as the sharp sting pierces my skin. Then heat spreads through me, followed by an unnatural heaviness that moves within my limbs too quickly to fight. The sounds around me stretch and blur. The last thing I hear before the darkness takes me is a low voice whispering near my ear.

“You should have listened when I told you to leave…”

When I wake, my head feels like it’s been split open. Pain throbs behind my eyes as I try to lift my chin, sending nausea rolling through me. I shift, and rope bites into my wrists and ankles. The blindfold is gone, thankfully, though it takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to my new surroundings.

I’m lying on my side, wrists bound behind me, ankles tied tightly together. The ground beneath me is soft and uneven, packed dirt blanketed with old, dead leaves and pine needles. Cold air slips beneath my body, carrying the damp scent of earth and moss. Moonlight above casts an eerie glow over the clearing, trees stretching as far as I can see.

I’m outside.

Somewhere in the woods, obviously.

“Help!” I scream, pulling against the ropes but getting nowhere. My heart hammers so violently it hurts.

Three tall figures step out from between the trees. Their faces are hidden behind masks unlike anything I’ve ever seen. These aren’t cheap Halloween masks from a costume shop. They’re heavy, ornate, polished to a mirror-like shine. Strange symbols curl along the edges of the metal, hollow eye sockets staring back at me like empty wounds.

Just the masks alone are terrifying, but that’s not even the worst of it. Each of them holds something shiny and sharp in their hands. Silver that catches the moonlight.

A knife.

The blades are long and slightly curved. Intricate designs twist around the hilts, too elaborate to be practical. They look ancient. Almost ceremonial.

My mouth goes dry.

“You’ve been asking too many questions.”

A tall figure in a black quilted jacket speaks first. His modulated voice is low and inhuman, warped enough that I can’t place the speaker. Still, something about the cadence scratches at my memory. I’ve heard it before.

Not like this, but somewhere.

I scan the masks, searching for anything that might help me identify them later, but there’s nothing I can discern. The only thing that distinguishes them is their clothing. The one closest to me is in a heavy midnight-blue zip-up fleece. Another wears an oxblood leather jacket and moves with an overeager impatience, the knife turning around between excited fingers. The third one, the one in the black quilted jacket, stays slightly behind the others, though he seems to be the leader of the group.

At least, he’s the only one speaking.

“You were warned,” he says. “You didn’t listen. Now we’ll make you listen.”

“You kidnapped me, drugged me with God knows what, and brought me out to the fucking woods—because I asked questions?” I ask, too pissed off by the sheer absurdity of his words to be as scared as I know I probably should be.

The leather jacket one steps forward. “This is a waste of time,” he says. “Let’s just kill her and be done with it.”

My pulse stutters.

The second man talks about killing me so casually, it’s more terrifying than anything else that’s happened so far. That’s the moment I really understand just how much danger I’m in.

These men… they want to hurt me.