The Darkness That Hunts
Chapter 6

Warmth and light beat against my closed eyelids and whilethe sensation is foreign, it’s reassuring. In Ater, light is scarce and neverwarm. But you escaped, I assuremyself and a content smile curls my lips.

Or was allowed toescape.

I jerk upright, a startled gasp wedged in my throat at theunbidden consideration. My hammering heart slowly calms while my eyes to adjustto the unfamiliarity of my surroundings.

Though empty, the room still carries the airy, electricambience of life. Vitality thrums through the messy beds, the discarded clothesthat form a carpet on the tile floor, and the cheap plastic frames that outlinea series of photographs: Dace peering through a gargantuan telescope at somekind of astronomy lab, his impish features serious and contemplative; Zakk, wethair plastered across his forehead, grinning as he clutches a surfboard underhis armpit while colossal, turquoise waves break against a beach behind him. Nopictures near Hamilton’s deserted bed, but I notice a paperback resting on histrunk, its title in Spanish.

Careful of my injured leg, I slip out of the sheets and archmy back, listening to the joints of my spine crack. At that moment, Kamironslides back the shoji screen and peeks in. His expression brightens when hespots me.

“Was wondering when you’d wake. You looked so peaceful wedidn’t have the heart to disturb you.” His gaze runs over me, lingering on thered-tinged bandages around my neck and calf. “Looks like those needs changing.How do you feel?”

It’s different to see Kamiron in the morning--or is thatlate afternoon? The rays of the sun that scurry past the blinds’ thick woodenslats are too deep a gold to be morning. Kamiron slides shut the screen behindhim. Dressed in khaki shorts and a print shirt of a generic cityscape, hiseasygoing nature exudes compassion and confidence. It’s no wonder I’ve taken aninstant liking to him.

“I feel okay. My leg’s stiff, but . . .” I trail off,remembering Hamilton’s help from last night. “Where’s Hamilton?”

Kamiron perches on the edge of Dace’s bed and studies meshrewdly.

“No, it’s not like that,” I rush, embarrassment coloring mycheeks. “I just ask because--”

“He’s hot and chicks love him?” Kam’s smile turns wry.

“No, that’s not . . . I mean, of course he’s attractive,but--”

Kamiron holds up a hand, grey eyes mischievous. “You justlike his Latin flair, sí?”

I scowl.

He bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but smile at hisexuberance. “Ham had his exam today.”

“Exam?” I squeakin horror. “But I kept him up all night!” The words are out of my mouth beforeI can take them back. Kam’s renewed laughter bounces across the empty beds.Mortified, I shield my face with my fingers. “That came out wrong. I just meanthe didn’t say anything about--nothing happened.”

Gradually Kamiron’s laughter dies down to a bemused chuckle.“Relax, Shari, I get it. Our exams aren’t something we prepare for. They’re tostudy the progression of our abilities. A bunch of scientists, researchers andscary dudes in suites gather in an observation room--”

The screen slides open and Zakk, a damp towel draped abouthis slim waist, pads inside. His hair drips down his back in a wet mop. “I seemy patient is awake,” he comments, gliding over to his bed and tossing hisdirty clothes into the hamper near his cedar chest. I avert my eyes, biting theinside of my cheek when he drops his towel. At my expression, Kamiron grins.

“Z, man, you remember Shari is a girl, right?”

Zakk pauses, arm caught in thesleeve of a faded auburn T-shirt. Out the corner of my eye, I watch him glancedown. “I’m wearing boxers . . .” He hurriedly throws on his shirt and there isa rustle as he slides into a pair of worn jeans. “Sorry, Shari. Habit.”

“One he gets from his hippie parents,” Kamiron adds. Zakkmakes a rude gesture. Ignoring him, Kamiron crosses his legs, right ankleresting against his left knee. “So, Shari, do you feel up to going outside withus?”

“I-I don’t know.” I try to control the alarm in my voice.Being around strangers . . . what if they replace out I don’t belong here? Orworse, The Darkness-That-Hunts sends his giant dogs after me again?

Stop, girl, I scold, you need to behave as normal as possible.

Zakk shoves his friend. “What this ill-mannered simpletonmeans to say is that we’d like for you to attend a bonfire with us instead ofhanging out here alone and undoubtedly bored.” For a moment, Zakk falls quietand studies me with a critical eye. Before I can feel even more uncomfortable,he gives a disapproving shake of his head and sighs. “Ugh, Kam. You fail atapplying bandages.”

Kamiron raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Notquite my area of expertise, y’know? But if for some reason you need a pair ofkeys to float in mid-air, I’m your guy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time my hippie parents havetheir annual séance.”

Their playful jokes loosen the tension braiding through me.Maybe attending this bonfire won’t be so bad if they’re with me. Dragging up achair, Zakk gently unwraps the layers of gauze. I barely even wince.

“You’re healing nicely. Your injuries actually look weeksold, not hours.” Surprise colors Zakk’s voice but he simply shrugs. “Must havebeen more superficial than we first thought. I think it’s okay to take a showerfirst. When you’re out, I’ll rebandage you.”

“But I don’t have any clothes.”

“Left ’em in my room. Hold on.” Kamiron jogs out and soonreturns with a plastic grocery bag. Inside I replace a pair of black sweat pants,socks, a pink T-shirt and a black hoodie.

“I know it’s not exactly fashionable,” Kamiron admitssheepishly, “but it should be about your size and baggy enough to cover yourbandages without attracting too much attention.”

Astonished at his foresight, I take the bag and nod. “How’dyou get these?”

“Melissa.” He shoos me away before I can ask any furtherquestions. “Later. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right.”

The bathroom is bigger than anything I’m used to back home.There are three stalls with toilets and four showers hidden behind frostedglass. No windows, but bright fluorescent lights flicker on when I hit theswitch. The bare tiles chill the soles of my feet as I walk up to the mirrorand dump my plastic bag on the sink.

My reflection stares back at me, looking lost and forlorn.My dark eyes are huge and like a frightened hamster, skittering to and fro. Ilean closer, examining myself. Inspecting bags and dark circles. There are afew welts on my face that appear old, healing. I barely notice the teeth marksthat line my throat like a macabre necklace. They are little more than rubypockmarks now. My bangs drag across my forehead in lifeless and dull curls.

“I’m desperately in need of a relaxer,” I sigh, imagining mymom’s horror at my tightly coiled hair going so long without being chemicallystraightened. In short, I look like hell.

On impulse, I sniff my armpits.

Ugh. I smell like hell, too. I can’t believe Hamilton couldstand being so close to me.

I slip out of Kamiron’s shirt. Discolorations, welts andbruises mar my body. I don’t remember most of them but the haunting images . .. I shudder and, favoring my stiff leg, hurry to one of the stalls and turn thechrome knob. Hot water splashes against cream-colored tiles and circles the drain.Humidity swells across the bathroom. I rifle through the plastic bag fromMelissa. She’s thought of everything--shampoo, conditioner, lotion, towel, aloofah, and bath gel that smells like rosehips and chamomile.

“I’ll have to hug her for this.” Taking the bath products, Istep into the shower and let the hot water caress my battered, dry skin. Whenwas the last time I did this? I can’t remember.

Big surprise there.

The water that beats against my head and loosens my musclesis like a mantra, hypnotizing me to the brink of consciousness. Another memoryuncoils and rears before me.

Heavy eyebrows that show only the slightest hint of grayframe tangerine eyes that bore into mine. He leans back and the bones andfeathers braided into his sandy hair rustle with the movement. His russet bearddrapes down his chest in a hundred small plaits. Leather fastenings and graycords drape his powerful body like a cloak. An elegant cobalt sash wraps aroundhis narrow waist and I notice an emblem stitched into the fabric. Black. Ugly. TheDarkness-That-Hunts’ insignia.

For a moment I stare stupidly, struggling to recall theman’s name. The memory-haze parts for a split second and--

Divine. A druid.

His joints pop and I realize he’s sitting, we’re sitting, on uncomfortable mats ofrotted straw. The room is small with crooked roots dangling from a domedceiling of earth. Leather-bound books sit on shelves of wood and bone, andscrolls sprout from clay basins. Dominating the dirt floor lays a frayed rugwith arcane symbols woven into a bizarre pattern along its rim. Looking at thesymbols makes me nauseous, so I lift my eyes back to the druid.

“Where am I?”

He nods, as if I’ve answered a previous question. “You mustdo something, Shari.” His accent is heavy, Gallic. It sounds like settling soiland forgotten burial rites.

“Something?”

“I can resist his compulsion--but only for a time. You haveto free us, all of us, from him.”

“I just want to go home.” My voice is small and weak.

“You will never be free until you replace the way to destroyhim. To do this, you must locate the others. There are three.”

“But where do I look? How will I know them?” More questionsbuzz on my tongue but Divine shakes his head.

“No time. I can help you escape, but your window is brief.”His eyes flutter closed as if in pain. His muscular arms tighten, ripplingacross his tattooed flesh before loosening. “For now he tends his garden, buthe will seek you out soon. I hope to get you away before then. Once you getback to your realm, there will be one who can channel me. Seek that one. I willlet you know what to do afterwards.” I watch as he jots something down on apage ripped from one of his books.

“When you cross, your memories will scatter, but they willreturn in time. You must replace theothers. Know this, Shari, if you flee, you will be hunted. He will use all hismeans to retrieve you, and then we will all be doomed. Trust no one.”

He presses the paper into my hand and yanks me to my feet.Like a pair of ghosts, we sneak towards--

“Shari--you okay in there?”

The memory shatters at the sound of Zakk’s voice. The waterjetting out of the showerhead is lukewarm at best but the air is cloying.

“F-fine--almost done!” I hastily wash myself as my mindprocesses the memory. A druid named Divine. Yes, I recall that lastconversation now. I remember him sending me here with a purpose, one thatconfirms my unspoken suspicion: No matter where I try to run, TheDarkness-That-Hunts will pursue me. I cannot go home, not yet. In order to befree, I must replace the others, these “three.” The druid’s “medium” is crucial tothat end, but how am I to avoid The Darkness-That-Hunts long enough to replacethis medium? And what exactly is TheDarkness-That-Hunts? Where did he come from?

More questions and no answers. But I have a lead. Divine.The note he left me is the key.

#

Once out of the shower and dressed, I replace that Kamiron’sgone. Zakk motions for me to sit on his bed and starts to clean my neck withantiseptic. His movements are quick and precise, his long fingers dexterous.

“Are your parents really hippies?”

Zakk chuckles. It’s a lovely sound. “Kam thinks anyone bornin California must be a hippie.” He shakes his hair out of his eyes. I noticehe’s pulled his hair back into a neat braid. “My parents are Yurok Indians, atribe in northern California, though we don’t live on the rez anymore.”

Stunned, I scrutinize his features again. The proudcheekbones, sun-kissed skin with hints of copper, thick hair long and bonestraight. In the light, his hazel eyes look more gold-brown than they had lastnight, but no less gentle. Zakk notices my startled silence with a wry smile.“Did you think I tanned?”

Sheepish, I glance at my feet.

He laughs and nods to my own dark complexion. “It’s as mucha ‘natural tan’ as yours. If you want, I can wear a feather headdress and do awar dance--if you’ll wear your hair in a ’fro, maybe make some sassy comments?”

His play of stereotypes eases my embarrassment, and I rollmy eyes with a good-natured chuckle. “I’ll even sing in a few Negro spirituals,free of charge.”

“I’m sure you have a lovely voice, Shari,” Zakk repliesseriously, but I can sense his sudden distraction. The pads of his fingerstrace the faded bite marks in fascination. “Won’t need to rebandage this one.”He glances up at me before continuing his examination with the professionalismof any experienced doctor. “You really have such a remarkable capacity to heal.I wonder why.”

I force myself to be still beneath Zakk’s curiosity but itmakes me uncomfortable.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“I read auras, Shari. I feelits subtle changes. Your aura is quite powerful,” he admits, “although most ofit seems to be centered in fear.”

I take a deep, unsteady breath as Zakk rifles through theFirst Aid kit in search of a new roll of gauze. “Do you think I’m crazy?” Iblurt out.

Pausing, Zakk peers at me. It’s impossible to read hisexpression.

“Roll up your sweats, please,” he says at last.

I do as he asks. The smell is ten times better. Already mostthe skin has knitted itself back together, and looks closer to a severecontusion than the mass of bloody, shredded flesh that it was last night.

“I believe you believe what you say is true. I believehorrible things happened to you.” Zakk balances my heel on his knee and cleansmy calf. “But I’ve never heard of a place called Ater, much less a Hunter ofsupernatural origin.”

I swallow hard and look away.

Cool fingers tap my knee as Zakk gives me a sympathetic pat.He starts redressing my injury. “That’s not to say your story is completelyinsane or that what you’ve said doesn’t exist. This place”--he tightens thegauze around my calf. The instant of pain is dull and removed--“redefinesweird. Even before Gen, this location’s been a mecca for the paranormal.”

“How so?”

“Are you familiar with ley lines?” After seeing me shake myhead, he continues. “Ley lines are like ribbons of energy. People who aresensitive to psychic phenomena--people like us, yourself included--are drawn toit. Camp Genki’s administrators chose this property because of the intersectionof ley lines, and because--”

The breezy echo of laughter drifts through the window. “Mustbe them,” Zakk murmurs, his gaze checking my bandage. Satisfied with his work,he rolls down my pant leg and rises.

“Them?” Anxiety swells but instantly, a warm cocoon envelopsme, settling my nerves. Zakk winks in a way that lets me know it’s him.

“Friends. We’re all going to go to the bonfire together. Gotyour shoes on? Good. Do you remember what happened to you?”

His question catches me off guard as we head out of thebedroom and towards the front porch.

“I-I remember parts, like what I told you guys last night--”

He pauses. “In case anyone asks, you’re new. Unfortunately,your luggage with all your things was lost by the airline--infuriating whenthat happens, isn’t it?”

“And me spending the night in a boys’ cabin?”

“As far as anyone knows, you just got here this afternoonand had to spend time in the infirmary to make sure everything’s up to date.That part’s routine for any new arrival.” Zakk extends an elbow to me, and Ilink my arm in his. “Being the proper gentleman that I am, I’ve volunteered toshow you around for the evening and get you acquainted with some people.”

“You work at the infirmary?”

“It’s a suitable place for someone with my abilities,wouldn’t you agree, my lady?”

I tilt my head at Zakk and don my best Southern accent. “Whyyes, sir, I do reckon I agree.”

We step out onto the small porch. I spot Kamiron picking hisway down a gravel trail. On his left saunters a tall, lithe strawberry-blondgirl while on his right treads a short, slightly chubby brunette. Otherteenagers amble along the trail that winds through a cluster of cabinsidentical to Firestarter, but none join Kamiron and the two girls.

“Who are they?”

With a grace I envy, Zakk hops off the porch and turns tohelp me descend the steps. My calf stings, but the discomfort is minimal. “Thecurly-haired one is Melissa, the one who gave you the clothes.” He nods to theredhead. “That’s Sandra, the leader of Starjungle--the cabin you’ll go totonight. She’s Kam’s girlfriend.”

To my surprise, my heart falls. Of course someone asattractive as Kamiron is bound to have a girlfriend.

We shuffle up to meet them and I try my best to look casualand not finger the scars around my neck. I don’t want to think about how I camehere, or the people I’m supposed to replace. For once I just want to--

“Relax,” Zakk whispers and a heat steals into my gut,untying the icy knots that rest there. I watch Kamiron whisper to the redhead whileI shyly approach.

“You must be Shari,” notes Melissa, sticking out her hand. Ibarely shake it, not wanting her to notice my suddenly sweaty palms.

“Thanks for the clothes, Melissa.”

“Mel.” She gazes at her black hoodie and sweats. “Fits youdecent enough.”

The redhead extends her hand. “Sandra--Kamiron’sgirlfriend.”

The aggressive tone in her voice, buried beneath layers ofsugary sweetness, makes the hairs on my neck prickle. My eyes jump to hers. Sheraises her eyebrows, her blue left eye and green right eye staring at me incuriosity.

Reluctantly, I take her hand. The second my palm toucheshers I hear screams that coat my veins in hoarfrost. A flash and she isplatinum blond. Beneath her snarls an army of undead, their decaying flesh voidof all color, their eyes the blue-white of oblivion. At her side looms afigure, his hair the shade of nightfall, cold golden eyes--

The vision fizzles as quickly as it appears. I snatch myhand from hers as my eyes trail over her throat. Her flame colored hair, darkas rusted blood, blocks any visual I could have had of a brand. She feelsfamiliar and yet . . .

“A bit skittish, isn’t she?”

“Sandra . . .” Kamiron’s tone, softly reprimanding, yanks meback to reality. Zakk’s hand presses against my lower back, guiding me alongthe gravel trail that claws up a steep hill. Warmth soothes me and I smile athim, grateful.

Sandra, Kamiron, and Mel take the lead. I follow alongsideZakk, trying to take in my surroundings and failing miserably. The tree lineshoulders out the setting sun and twilight settles thick and lazy over thecamp. Campers about my age surround us, their faces unremarkable in the dark,their chatter riding along the warm gusts of mountain air. They pour out ofcabins like ants and migrate north with singular purpose.

“How’re you holding up?”

“All these people are like you?”

“Gifted? Yeah.” Zakk’s hazel eyes look amber in thedarkness.

“What does this bonfire do?”

Zakk nods to some people he knows before answering. “It’s asocial gathering for our age group. It allows us to, you know, feel normal.”

Giggling, Sandra ruffles Kamiron’s messy hair before shetangles her arm around his and kisses his cheek. Again, I see her, only she’sdifferent. Her eyes are still mismatched, but her hair is the shade of saffron.She dresses like a warrior in mail and leather. Artic blue tinges her pastyskin and blood drips from her stiletto-sharp nails.

“Exactly what can shedo?”

Zakk’s gaze trails over to Sandra and his lips tighten.“She’s a vampire.”

At first I think he’s joking, but when he doesn’t sayanything further, horror fills me. “She drinks blood?”

Zakk laughs. “Forgive me. I should have said she’s a psychic vampire. Basically, instead ofdrinking blood, she drinks people’s energy. She taps into it and gets a quickpick-me-up.”

I shudder. “Does she do that to you?”

His expression darkens. “She’d better not.”

We follow Kamiron to a wide concrete avenue that weavesthrough log-cabin style buildings. An East Asian ambiance influences thecampgrounds. Tōrō, stone lanterns that squat low to the ground, outline thepathway in soft light. Every now and again I replace inscriptions of wisdom orinsight chiseled onto serpentine plaques. Statues made of iron, bronze, andlimestone form cranes, nine-tailed foxes, and koi, which hide in Camp Genki’scultivated meadows. This place doesn’t seem like the stereotypical “summercamp” with hiking, swimming and crafts. Instead Camp Genki feels methodic,fabricated. Like one of those celebrity rehab centers that masquerade asvacation retreats.

Then again, I’ve never been to a camp for psychic kids oreven knew that such a place existed. Until now, it had always seemed likesomething out of a science fiction novel.

I spot dusky smoke curling into the sky long before we reachthe bonfire. The aroma of earth, flame and roasting marshmallows saturates mynose. Above, stars glimmer like chips of quartz in an indigo sky. The quartermoon’s diluted glow tangles in the canopy of leaves, and only a few moonbeamsmanage to trickle down to the ground in sporadic, silver patches.

There was no moon inAter. The memory feelslike gossamer strands of hair against my cheek and I shake it away. You aren’t in Ater anymore, Shari. Focus onthat.

Red spruce and pine trees part as we enter a round, levelfield. In the center, a giant fire growls inside a sunken brick pit andcompetes with the buzzing cacophony of whispers and laughs that reverberatethroughout the night. Groups of teenagers huddle around the bonfire in asemicircle, stretching out on beach blankets, worn logs and fold-out plasticchairs. Their smiling, carefree faces are ignorant of the danger that stalksthe night and I squirm. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many people inone area, at least not while they’re still alive. I feel like an interloper whohas crashed an exclusive party.

Excusing us, Kamiron takes my elbow and steers me away fromthe others.

“So Sandra wants to sit with our friends.” His tongue dartsout over his lower lip. “You can join us, but . . .”

At his hesitation, my heart flops. Can I blame him? Who’dwant to sit with a crazy like me, anyway?

I dip my chin in a terse nod. “I’ll manage, don’t worry.” Itug my elbow from his grasp and look away so he can’t see my disappointment.

“It’s cool, amigo.Z and I will keep her company.”

Startled, I turn to replace Hamilton strolling towards us,looking as stunning as ever in wrinkled jeans and a polo shirt with the collarpopped. He studiously ignores the appreciative glances of every girl within atwenty-foot radius and halts beside me, close enough that our arms almosttouch. My heart makes a funny thumping sound and heat flares against my cheeks. Relief ripples across Kamiron’sfeatures and he claps Hamilton on the shoulder before beating a hasty retreat.“I owe you, man!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Am I that bad to be around?” I mutter darkly.

Hamilton snorts and guides me to a log Zakk has commandeeredfor us. “Don’t take it personally. Kam’s just whipped.”

I purse my lips.

“Sandra keeps a pretty tight leash on him. She’s the jealoustype--doesn’t like him around other girls.”

I glance across the clearing as Kamiron and Sandra settle inwith their faction. “She’s beautiful. I don’t see why she would be jealous ofanyone.”

Hamilton shrugs.

“You can’t read her mind?”

“No, thank God.”

Despite myself, I snicker. “I take it you don’t like hermuch.”

We plop down beside Zakk who passes us a couple s’moresbefore resuming his conversation with Melissa. Hamilton lowers his voice sothat only I can hear.

“She’s nice--a little toonice for me, yanno?” His peculiar violet eyes turn to the crackling flames.“It’s hard to place, but she just seems fake.”

I grunt in agreement and take a bite of my s’more.Chocolate-marshmallowy goodness melts in my mouth and I nearly purr. I’ve hadnext to nothing to eat all day. “Sorry I kept you up last night. I didn’trealize you had an exam.”

“Our examinations aren’t really a big deal.”

“What did you have to do?”

Hamilton doesn’t answer. Instead his head inclines and ahush settles over the campers. I look up to replace Dace slouched in front of theflames. He shakes his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes and his square lensesrefract the firelight, obscuring his blue irises.

“How’s it goin’?” His voice filters through the night,casual and playful. He struts around the fire pit, the picture of easyconfidence. “Another bonfire, another night of ghost stories, and I’ve got anoldie but goodie for you fine ladies and gents: The Legend of Andhakar Lake.”

I tilt back my head. Something about that name strikes a darkcord, like cobwebs brushing against my neck, but I push the feeling aside.“Sounds like these bonfires happen regularly.”

Hamilton stretches his long legs. “Every month.”

“Month? Exactlyhow long do you guys stay at Camp Genki?”

To my left, Zakk grimaces. “The entire summer. Some stay forless, but they’re usually the ones with minor abilities.”

“Or los niños,”Hamilton adds. “Most us older kids are stuck here the full term.”

“You make it seem like you’re doing prison time.”

Hamilton’s expression turns bitter. “We kinda are, chica.”

Dace disappears behind a curtain of flame though I can stillhear his disembodied voice. “So does he do this often?”

Zakk’s mouth twitches. “Dace loves attention.”

“And I’m sure you’ve noticed he likes to talk,” Hamiltonsnorts.

“--Already know what makes Camp Gen so special,” Dacesmirks, “Aside from weirdoes like us, that is.”

Heads bob in agreement and it strikes me: Camp Genki isthese people’s only refuge, their only medium for exploring their unique gifts.I now understand Hamilton’s bitterness. To spend summer after summer beingstudied like a lab animal only to go home and be an outcast . . . I rub myarms, grateful for my hoodie despite the warm night. I’m all too familiar withwhat it’s like for people who are different.

“But it’s Gen’s location that’s prime real estate. It’soptimal for paranormal activity and while that makes our freakish abilities abit stronger, it also links this place to several bizarre tragedies.” Dacepaces in front of the bonfire methodically. “Perchton and the wildlife preserveborder our camp, but something else surrounds us: Five of the oldest graveyardsin the county. During the colonial days, towns were planned and measured alonga grid so it’s no surprise that the distance between Perchton’s five cemeteriesare equal.

“But here’s the odd thing: if you drew a line linking eachcemetery’s location, you’d form a perfect five-pointed star. Factor in the oldrailroad tracks and you have yourself a pentagram--with Camp Genki in themiddle and Lake Andy at the exact center.”

Lake Andy, the fenced off, derelict place where I foundmyself, is the exact center of a pentagram? Chills curl up my spine at thethought.

“Perchton’s a hotbed of paranormal activity and Camp Genkiseems it’s mecca, but Gen wasn’t always here. What about the period before,when this camp was called Camp Andy? And why is it, decades later, Lake Andyremains off-limits?”

Firewood pops and belches firefly embers into the night.Moonlight breaks over the tips of the red spruce and soaks the clearing inethereal silver.

“Back then, Camp Andy was just an ordinary summer camp withordinary campers--or so it seemed until the night when a boy drowned in LakeAndy. According to his friends, the boy was luredto the lake.”

Dace stops pacing and his gaze roams over his audience untilthey land on me. A brief, acknowledging smirk twists the corner of his mouth.“Lured by a creature with golden eyes and hair the color of twilight. Acreature that constantly appeared in the boy’s dreams. A creature the boycalled ‘Andhakar.’”

My breath catches. Andhakar.Uneasiness settles low in my stomach, souring the remains of my s’more. Aheadache starts to throb dull and slow behind my left temple.

That name . . .

Part of the viscous haze that clings to my memoriesdissolves, revealing rectangular pupils and golden eyes that blink at me whileI cower, shackled to the clawed feet of an iron throne.

I swipe a hand down my face to banish the disturbing image.

Once more Dace disappears behind a curtain of fire, but hisvoice continues to haunt the night. “The native people of this region, theCherokee, had stories about this area. Whispers that it’s cursed. They saidthat Andhakar, a golden-eyed entity who wore the form of a man but was fromanother realm, haunted these lands. He could cross into our world at spotswhere the bridge between our realm and his was its strongest--spots like LakeAndy.”

Dace reappears, rounding the curve of a dense cloud ofsmoke. He clasps his hands behind his back. “Of course, at that time the lakewasn’t called Lake Andy. The Cherokee referred to it as Lake Andhakar, namedafter the malicious creature that stalked its banks. The tribespeople triedcountless rituals to cleanse their home of Andhakar’s taint, but nothingworked. Even though Andhakar only seemed to venture forth one night every fewweeks, each time he visited tribespeople died or simply vanished.”

Despite the heat pouring off the bonfire, I feel colder andcolder as Dace’s ghost story progresses.

“Finally the elders intervened. Realizing this supernaturalmenace was one their warriors could not fight and was particularly resistant totheir cleansing rituals, the elders turned to four of their best shamans.Delving into the spirit world, the shamans performed a binding ritual thatsealed Andhakar within his realm and ultimately saved their tribe.”

Dace’s voice turns wistful as if lost in a trance. “Butnothing lasts forever, does it?”

Hamilton rests a hand on my knee. I can sense his concernand I offer a placating smile but avoid looking at him.

“While the shamans’ spell couldn’t be broken, there was onecaveat: the chains binding Andhakar to his realm are weakest when the moon isdark. If a willing sacrifice is offered to Lake Andhakar the seal will crackand allow Andhakar to once more walk our plane.”

A sick serpent wiggles into my belly and coils there. The boy that drowned. His death must havebeen during a new moon and it allowed for The Darkness-That-Hunts to cross.

I glance around at the horde of trees, expecting to replaceAndhakar and his legion skulking towards us. All I notice are camperswhispering and munching on snacks while they listen to Dace. A movement acrossthe clearing captures my attention and I catch Sandra watching me. When sherealizes I see her, she flashes a smile and her green eye winks.

The dull crunch of bone beneath a sharp heel. A narrowedgreen eye. A woman rasping, drawing her last, blood-filled breath--

Hamilton’s fingernails dig into my knee and I bite my lip,fighting back the images. Last thing I need is to have a psychotic break insuch a public place.

“For decades, the shamans’ spell protected Earth fromAndhakar--until the white man showed up. Colonists chased most the Cherokee outof their lands. Settlers dismissed the lake’s history as the mere ‘myths of asavage.’ They founded Perchton, and decided to build a summer retreat for thechildren of wealthy families. Shooing away talk of cursed lands andsupernatural creatures, Lake Andhakar was quickly Americanized to Lake Andy andbecame the centerpiece of the prosperous camp.

“But with the advent of the boy’s drowning, Camp Andy saw aspike in unexplained deaths and disappearances. Rumors of occult practices,demonology, and hauntings brought bad press to the affluent retreat. Mostparents pulled their children out but even away from the camp, these kidscontinued to vanish.”

For a moment, Dace falls silent and watches as the firechews on wedges of charred wood. No one whispers now, and all eyes followDace’s every movement, hypnotized by the story he weaves.

“Finally, four friends devised a plan. They suspected themyth surrounding Lake Andy was more than an ancient legend and, like the fourshamans before them, the friends uncovered a way into Andhakar’s realm. Theyleft to stop him.” Again, Dace’s gaze captures mine. “They never returned.”

I don’t know whether it’s the tangle of firelight and shadowacross his features, but for a split second a ghostly vestige with bronzefeatures superimposes Dace’s face. The spectral presence examines me withdisinterest but once I blink, it vanishes.

Dace removes his glasses, scrubs the smudges from the lenseswith the edge of his shirt and replaces them. “However neither did Andhakar.Many believe the four companions destroyed him. Others say they continue tofight to this day.” Dace lowers his voice, as if letting us in on a shockingconspiracy. “A few even believe that Andhakar won and currently bides his time,building an army to overrun our world.”

Silence saturates the clearing, heavy and hot. I jump when alog snaps in half and belches a cloud of smoke and heat into the air.

“What’s officially known is that Camp Andy was abandoned’til the parapsychology lab at Duke University got wind of its psychicsignificance and started the little operation you and me see today. As for theLegend of Andhakar Lake . . .” Dace sighs and shrugs.

“Maybe it really is just a myth, a scary yarn to spin infront of campfires. But ask yourself this: if it’s just a story, why does LakeAndy remain off-limits to this day? Is it just because Genki’s administrationis overly paranoid, or is it possible that maybe--just maybe--the Legend ofAndhakar Lake is true? Maybe the truth they don’t want us to know is thatAndhakar’s out there beyond the fog of Lake Andy, watching us and waiting.Biding his time.”

Silence stretches for three heartbeats before applause,hoots, and whistles roar louder than the fire. Dace takes a theatrical bow, hisfeatures gleaming with pride.

And surprisingly blurry.

Blurry?

Zakk shouts my name repeatedly but his voice sounds faintand slow and cavernous. I’m vaguely aware of the pressure from Hamilton’s armsas they encircle me, trying to anchor me to reality, but I’m alreadyweightless, floating up and up. Heaving mist engulfs me. It feels like foam andbubbles. Somewhere far away, my body is spasming, but my attention is on themist. It parts, revealing a hazy gateway to my fragmented memories. Before I can protest, I’m sinking through.