Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“Are you okay?” Will called, and I looked to see him leaning out the window.

I turned back around, shooting him a middle finger over my shoulder as I headed for the house again.

Once I was on the porch, I twisted the door knob, finding it unlocked.

There were no lights on inside, except for the moonlight streaming through unshaded windows. I entered the foyer and heard Will pull away right before I closed the door.

A loud click sounded, and every hair on my body stood on end as I shot my gaze left and right. Where the hell was he?

The house looked the same as it had last time. Still barely any furniture and anything that was here was covered in sheets. No lamps, and when I reached out and flipped the switch on the wall, the old light fixture hanging above did nothing.

Dust clotted the floors, but when I stepped farther in, I noticed some particles floating in the air. Like someone had been here and disturbed it.

I looked around, hyperaware. “Kai?”

The wind outside kicked up, and I heard screeching from above. Like a branch scraping against a window pane.

“Kai!” I called again, louder this time. “Where are you?”

My hip vibrated, and I realized it was my phone. Digging it out, I swiped the screen and looked at the message.

Close.

I whipped around, back and forth, shooting my eyes everywhere, trying to see where he was. I walked into the living room and then the dining room, scanning corners and behind doors.

“What the hell?” I growled.

I couldn’t see anything. No shadow, no form, and I couldn’t hear anything, either. The house was completely silent.

“I’m not playing your games!” I yelled up the

stairs.

My phone buzzed again.

You already are.

I shook my head. What did he think he was doing? A little sick fun?

Of course, I remember Kai’s version of fun. Devil’s Night six years ago. The hotel, the chase, the ballroom, the drapes…the fear.

I didn’t mind how it excited me that night, but I wasn’t in the mood now.

“I’m leaving,” I shouted to the empty air.

And turning around, I twisted the door knob again.

But it wouldn’t turn. What? I jiggled the handle, pulling at it, the door pounding against the frame as I yanked.

A green light blinked to my left, and I looked at the wall, spotting a keypad. My stomach sank. He had an alarm system and automated locks.

I yanked on the door again, it still not opening.

I spun around. “I want out!” I told him. “Or I’m kicking out a window!”

Another text popped up.

You said I wasn’t scary. Are you scared yet?