Shadowlands (Shadowlands 1)

Someone nearby was humming. The tune sounded vaguely familiar as it floated on the breeze. Familiar enough that I started to hum along. Until I realized exactly why I knew the melody. I jumped up from the swing, whirling around.

It was “The Long and Winding Road.”

I was flashing again. I had to be flashing again. But then a little yellow bird flew over and perched on the porch railing. I heard the distant sound of a bell. The magnolia tree across the street rustled in the breeze. I was here. In Juniper Landing. In the now. And the humming was real.

Trembling, I walked to the end of the porch and peeked over the railing toward the back of the house. Sandy, patchy crabgrass stretched out to a boardwalk that separated our house from the beach. But other than a blackbird perched in a flowering tree and a few bees buzzing around a coneflower, there was nothing there. I walked to the other side and looked back at the garage. Our new car sat in the driveway, its black hood glinting in the morning sun. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and listened. Nothing other than the crashing of the surf and the cawing of the blackbird.

But when I opened my eyes again, the very same curtain in the very same window of the house across the street fluttered closed. This time, I caught a glimpse of blond hair as someone turned away from the window.

“What the hell?” Before I could lose my nerve, I jogged down the steps of the porch, opened the latch, and stepped out onto the sidewalk for a better look.

“Whoa!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as two girls about my age skidded to a stop on their bikes just outside our gate—and inches from me. One was pretty, dark-skinned, and round-cheeked, with curls sticking out in all directions and an eyebrow ring that glinted in the sun. She wore an army jacket, even though it was warm out, along with a black dress, a striped scarf, and tall black boots. The other was the petite girl I’d seen with Darcy’s new conquest yesterday at the general store. She had straight black hair that fell to her chin, dark eyes, and sported a JUNIPER LANDING T-shirt over denim shorts. A weathered, woven leather bracelet clung to her right wrist.

“Close call,” the girl with the eyebrow ring said, backing up her bike.

“Um, yeah,” I said, my eyes darting back to the window. The curtain was still.

“You’re new,” the petite girl said coolly. She looked at me with pointed curiosity, like she was studying my face.

“That obvious?” I asked.

“To a native, yeah,” she said with a short laugh that felt almost mocking. Like there was some private joke I was missing.

“Less obvious to me, but I’m just visiting.” The other girl kicked down the stand on her bike and offered me her hand. “I’m Olive Walden. This is Lauren Caldwell.”

I shook her hand, still staring across the street at the gray house.

“And you are…?” Olive prompted, clearly amused.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, blinking myself back into the moment. “Rory. Rory…Thayer.” The new name felt odd on my tongue.

Lauren looked up at my home away from home. “Nice digs.”

“Thanks. Do you have any idea who lives across the street?” I asked, lifting my chin at the gray house.

Lauren and Olive exchanged a look, then glanced back at the house.

“Already trying to get the dirt on your neighbors, huh?” Lauren said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I blushed. “No. I just thought I saw…I mean…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. I couldn’t exactly explain that a serial killer was stalking me, so mysteriously moving curtains were sending me over the edge.

“Don’t sweat it. She’s just giving you a hard time.” Olive laughed, elbowing Lauren in the side in a be nice kind of way. “Want to go for a ride with us? We can take you for a tour of the town.”

I glanced back at the house. I didn’t relish the idea of hanging out inside with sulking Darcy and pissed-off Dad, but the eerie humming was still echoing in my head.

“Thanks, but I don’t have a bike,” I said, happy for the excuse. “Besides, I’m more of a runner.”

“Running? Really?” Olive shaded her eyes against the sun. “I never got the appeal.”

“No? It’s great. I love it,” I told her.

“Yeah?”

I lifted my shoulders and took a breath. “It’s…I just like being alone and not having to think about anything but the rhythm of my steps and the rate of my pulse,” I said. “It’s very…”

“Zen,” she supplied.