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The Ghost Tree (Part 3)

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I called Rachel’s number for the tenth time as I rounded the hill and our place came into view. I just got voicemail again, and the sound of that past version of her speaking made my guts clench as I pulled into the driveway and braked hard enough to make the tires squeal slightly as they came to rest. That voice, her but not her, there but not there, was like the voice from a memory. A piece of something lost.

A ghost.

Gritting my teeth, I jumped out of the car and started looking around for signs of anything out of place as I ran toward the house. Outside everything looked fine. I tried to tell myself that I was overreacting. Or maybe I had gotten so sick that it had warped my thinking. Made me paranoid. Maybe I really did need to…

Inside was chaos. Furniture was tipped over, several things lay broken on the floor, and a general path of destruction led from the front of the house to the side door I’d just entered. There’d been a fight, or at least a hard struggle. I didn’t see any blood, thank God, but part of me knew that meant very little. I’d never seen the other Rachel bleed, and they’d killed her just the same.

I searched the house and then the yard before going back inside. I tried her phone again, and this time I could hear it, ringing from the nightstand where she’d charged it the night before. Oh God. What should I do? I could call the police, but would it help? Given our situation, the odds of this attack not being related to either Solomon or the man who had trapped her in the basement seemed very slim. Still, maybe they could help find her before it was too late.

Before I failed her again.

Shaking my head, I stepped back outside. No. Now wasn’t the time for panic or self-pity. I had to calm down. Think about it slow.

Okay, so assuming it wasn’t some random attack or kidnapping, it was probably either Solomon or Parish…Paring. If it was Paring, why would he take her? Because he wants her to stay trapped with the tree. Where would he take her? Back to the house seemed the obvious choice. Back to her prison.

Swallowing, I forced myself to go on. If it was Solomon, he might not know about the house at all. And he could have taken her anywhere. But he would have had to find some way to come over to this world, and I didn’t know of any other way than the tunnels of the Ghost Tree. I also didn’t know why he’d still want me if he’d found the Tree, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d found out about my Rachel somehow and thought he could do to her what he had done to the version of her in my old world.

Rage and terror swept through me hard, and I leaned against the wall for support as I sucked in a big breath and tried to steady myself. Either way, the house was a good option, whether to trap Rachel there or get back to the tunnels. I needed to go and try to catch them. Stop whoever had her and get her back before it was too late.

Running to the car, I felt a song reverberating from somewhere deep inside. It was a fragile melody, full of fear and excitement and something stronger than both underneath. Pulling back out onto the road, I stomped the gas and shot forward, my eyes constantly scanning for any sign of Rachel or those who might have taken her. That other thing I’d heard in the song grew stronger as I turned toward the house. It was the sound of a promise or some kind of fulfillment, though I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad yet.

That’s when I thought of a story my mom had told me once. About how she’d been in a twister one time when they lived in Oklahoma. Everyone lived through it, but she said it was a near thing. Tore the roof and half of a room off the end of the house—just a few feet over and it would have gotten them too. Funny thing was, they’d had time to get away. Flat as the land was there, they’d seen the tornado from miles away, but it had seemed so distant that it was more of a frightening curiosity than anything else. Until it turned their way, and they heard a sound like a freight train bearing down on them.

That had been her point.

Thomas, you always watch out for the storm, all right? You watch out and if you see it, you get away fast. ‘Cause by the time you can hear it? Well, by then it’s already too late.


My hands were slick with sweat and blood as I gripped the wheel. I had to catch back up. I knew they were headed to the house now, or at least had been before I caught up the first time, but I’d lost at least ten minutes slamming into the tree and getting the car back on the road.

Even though I hadn’t recognized the car, I’d known it was them as soon as I saw a vehicle ahead. Rachel seemed to sense me too, turning to stare back at me, her face ghostly in the shadows of the car’s interior. I had to make them stop, but how? And what if it caused whoever had her to do something to her?

Gritting my teeth, I’d pushed the whatifs and fears out of my crowded brain. There was no time to think slow now. All I was doing was giving them time to react or outsmart me. I had to stop them while I could, because I might not get another chance.

I shifted to the oncoming lane as the front of my car edged up further. The driver had sped up too, but I was still catching up. I thought about hitting their back wheel, trying to make them spin out, but both sides of the road were lined with trees and we were going over ninety. I had the horrible image of Rachel’s side of the car slamming into a trunk, killing her.

But up ahead there was a curve, and if a car didn’t make the turn, they’d shoot out into an overgrown field instead of the woods. She could still get hurt, but I didn’t see anything big for them to hit, and it should slow down the car enough for me to stop it safely. I just had to get up closer to even and force the car to stay straight at the curve, taking us both out into the weeds that lay beyond.

Pressing the gas pedal as far as it would go, the engine whined as I crept up further. I could see now that a large man was driving the other car. And…oh God. He looked like me? How…

The other car suddenly pumped their brakes with a squeal, dropping back even as the driver swerved the front of his car into the back of mine. The effect was immediate—I began to spin out, pinwheeling past the front of the other car as momentum slung me into the trees. There was a moment of tremendous noise and a flash of pain as my head slammed into the side window during the flight off the road. This was followed by an even louder bang as I struck the tree, side and front airbags hammering my head as I slipped into darkness.

My first thought on waking up was that I could feel my heartbeat in my head. I was in the car, deflated airbags draped across my shoulder and lap. There’d been an accident. Rachel. Oh God. He still had her. Some other me, or someone made to look like it, had taken her, and now I’d lost them.

I went to get out of the car, but the door wouldn’t budge. Looking past the airbag, I saw why. The car had slammed into a large pine tree right where my door was. It was a miracle I wasn’t hurt worse, but it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t get the car back on the road and going again. My left eye burned as something dripped into my eye. Reaching up, I felt a ragged cut at the edge of my forehead, pulsing out a thin trickle of blood as I wiped at it.

It didn’t matter. Reaching for the key in the ignition, I turned it to off and put the car in park. I waited a moment, said a silent prayer, and tried cranking the car again. It started up immediately. Heart hammering, I threw the SUV into drive and hit the gas. There was a groaning squeal next to me as the metal of the door tried to free itself from the tree, followed by a lower scraping sound as I ground the side of the car along the bark. Everything lurched to a stop—I looked out the intact driver’s side mirror and saw the tree had made its way to the bumper, where it had snagged the edge.

Holding the wheel tightly, I stomped on the gas harder and heard a new banging screech as the edge of the bumper buckled enough for me to shoot forward. I slowed down only a little as I steered toward the embankment and the road’s edge. Glancing at the dash clock, I gauged I’d been out for almost ten minutes. Too long. Too fucking long.

The tires squealed as they bit the asphalt and I shot forward again. There was no sign of the other car, but I knew where they were headed. At least I hoped I did.

But what if they aren’t at the house? What if you’ve lost her again?

I shook my head against the voice, my own voice, trying to focus instead on the soft music echoing from my core. This was still the right path. And I would find her and get her back, wherever they took her.

And God help them if they tried to stop me.


I took the steps into the house in a single bound, only forcing myself to slow as I went to step inside. I knew they were here—the car was outside and they couldn’t have gotten far on foot. Besides, it was clear now they were here for either the tree or the tunnel, and there’d been no sign of them in the yard. Still, I had to be careful of an ambush.

Pushing the door open quickly, I glanced around inside before heading in. I didn’t know the layout of the house, but that was all right. I was pretty sure of where they were headed, if they were still here at all.

That was my biggest fear at this point—that they’d made it into the tunnels and that despite the thing inside me, I wouldn’t be able to find them again. I’d lose them among all the paths and the worlds that lay beyond them. My chest tightened with fear at the thought. I had to hurry.

I found the door to the basement and opened it quietly. The lights were on down there—I couldn’t say for sure, but I think Rachel had turned those off when we left last time. Someone else could have been in since, of course, but…No, I heard something. They were down there.

A surge of nervous relief twisted my stomach in knots as I started down the stairs. I should have brought a weapon. I’d thought about it in the car, when it did me no good, and I hadn’t wanted to take the time to search for one upstairs when he could be down here killing her or carrying her through the wall. I flexed my hands as I reached the bottom of the stairs. It was okay. I would stop them either way.

I glanced around the first room, but there was no sign of anything out of place. The door to the second room, the room with the hidden prison cell, was open, the cool glow of fluorescent light pouring from the opening. That’s where they’d be.

Swallowing, I stepped to the doorway and looked inside. My plan had been to be cautious. To go slow and try to spot them before charging in.

But then I saw her.

She was propped up next to the broken brick wall, her face bloody and her eyes closed. A memory suddenly gripped me—the twin of this beautiful face, long dead and drifting, in that hidden, evil place where they’d kept her prisoner until they killed her.

“No…no, no, no…don’t begurgh…” I let out a whoosh of air as I felt the knife slamming into my stomach. I started to reach for it, but a hand was already pulling it free, only to slam it in again. Looking up, I found a hard but familiar face smiling back at me. I could already feel my head beginning to swim as fire spread across my belly.

“They told me you’d be harder to get than this.” He smirked as he yanked the knife free, shoving me against the doorframe as my legs began to buckle. “But then again, they told me to bring you back. To bring the thing you’ve got in you back.” He looked at the knife in his hand thoughtfully before pointing its tip at me. “Thing is, I think they’ll be satisfied with the woman. She’s the same as the one they had, right? And if I kill you?”

He stepped forward, a cold smile on his face. “Then I’ll be the last man standing.” 

---

Credits

 

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