The wind howled against the panes at The Twister as if in concert with the tempest brewing inside Cassidy's mind. Patrons of the establishment seemed removed from the turbulence, lost in their little worlds of smoke, booze, and hushed conversations. But Cassidy was more than aware that beneath the surface lay something much darker-the thing the townspeople were either too terrified to face or simply too stupid to realize existed.
Never once breaking his gaze, he threw back the last of his whiskey. It was almost a regimented movement, a control reminiscent of a predator merely biding his time for that perfect strike. Cassidy knew he was coiled tight, ready to spring at any moment.
"What do you know about this storm?" Cassidy asked, little more than a whisper. It was as if the walls had ears, and speaking too loudly would evoke that self-same thing she was afraid of.
A muscle leaped along Ryder's clenched jaw. "It's not just a storm, but something. ancient. Something which has been asleep since ages, and is going to awake now. And when it does, then it would not be only the weather that would change.
Cassidy frowned. "What do you mean? What's waking up?
Ryder looked around cautiously, ensuring no one was listening, hunching forward over his knees. "There's a reason Crestwood's been so quiet all these years. The town was built on land that should've never been touched. There's old tales, whispers of a curse. The people that settled here first didn't heed the warnings. They thought they could tame the land, but they were wrong.
"A curse?" Cassidy repeated incredulously, but Ryder's solemn seriousness didn't make his words quite that easy to dismiss.
He nodded. "A curse, linked with the very foundation of this place. Beneath the earth in Crestwood lie things that were never to see the light of day. Still, people here kept on digging and building, and now their past has come with vengeance.
Cassidy's mind was racing. She'd heard all those old stories, the superstitions passed down through generations, but never paid any credence to them. Crestwood was just a little mountain town, quiet. That, at least, was what it was supposed to be.
"You're saying the storm's linked to this curse?" Cassidy asked, an edge of disbelief in her tone.
Ryder let out a breath and scratched behind his neck. "It's not just the storm. It's everything: the weather, what has been happening, the disappearances. They all connect, and they all point to something. something big."
Cassidy's breath caught. "Disappearances? What disappearances?
Ryder's eyes clouded. "There have been people gone missing, Cassidy. For years, not just in the last couple of weeks. They just vanish into thin air, none to say a word. People get erased from existence, like they never existed. But I remember. I have kept count of those who have gone.
A cold knot began to form in the pit of Cassidy's stomach. She had heard the rumors, of course, stories of hikers that never returned, of drifters who passed through town and were never seen again. But she had always thought of those as just thatstories. Now she wasn't so sure.
"What do we do?" Cassidy asked, the weight of the situation weighing heavily upon her.
The tension in Ryder's face relaxed, a flicker of his vulnerable side crossing his eyes. "We prepare. We find out all we can about the curse, about the storm, about what's really going on in this town. And then we fight back. But you gotta understand, Cassidy-this isn't some battle we might win. This is about survival."
No more words had escaped Cassidy's lips before the door to The Twister burst open and an icy gust of wind tore through the room. The bar fell silent; all eyes turned toward the door. The man was standing in the doorway, tall and towering, silhouetted by the tempest at his back. His eyes were dark, almost black; they cut through the gloom like a hot knife through butter as they settled on Cassidy.
Ryder tensed beside her, his hand instinctively going to the knife at his belt. "You need to leave," he hissed, low in his throat.
Cassidy didn't stir. The man was far too familiar; something about him sent a shiver up her spine. With a heavy door shutting, he stepped into the room, his weight allowing it to slam shut-shut in echoes, some sort of death knell in a silent void.
"Cassidy Harper," he said, his voice silky smooth, almost hypnotic. "We have been expecting you."
Cassidy's heart was running sprints, her instincts yelping at her to take flight, yet her limbs seemed to become lead-blocked in one place. He was overwhelming; the air he breathed seemed suffocating, and all senses yelled loudly, warning her that this was the turn in the tide of her life.
Ryder sprang to his feet, planting himself squarely between Cassidy and the stranger. "Who the hell's this?
A smile tugged at the edges of the man's lips, but it was of cold, calculated variety. "Names aren't important. She goes with me. Now."
Cassidy's face had bleached of its color. "Why? What do you want with me?
The man's eyes flickered to Cassidy, and for an instant, she could have sworn she saw something flicker in their depths, recognition perhaps. It was swallowed in that instant.
"You're special, Cassidy," he said, his voice going low and dangerous. "More special than you know. And it's time you learn the truth of who you really are."
Ryder growled, tightening his grip over the knife. "Over my dead body."
The man's smile spread. "That can be arranged."
Then, before Cassidy could utter another word, the lights in The Twister flashed once, twice, and then went out, plunging the bar into darkness. In the blackness, she heard the sound of chairs and tables scraping across the floor, glasses shattering, and body against body. And then the scream-a blood-curdling scream that ripped through the darkness like a knife.
Cassidy's heart raced, tugging backward as the mind flew through means of flight-just get out, had to get away. Yet, it was as if the darkness just swallowed her whole, and the storm outside grew so much stronger, feeding off the chaos contained within the four walls of the bar.
What happened next was more violent: a hand reached out and clutched her arm, tugging hard toward the door. Cassidy gasped, fighting the iron hold, but it was no good. She was dragged through the dark, out of The Twister, and into the storm.
The last thing she remembered before she passed out was his voice, still whispering in her ear.
"Welcome to the beginning of the end, Cassidy."
To be continued.