Sisters by Eliza Nolan

Author:Eliza Nolan [Nolan, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: E. N. Publications
Published: 2019-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

14

Eva

Snowflakes swirl underneath the streetlights. The fresh blanket of snow covering the ground appears blue in the light of the full moon. I tug my beanie hat down and flip my hood over my head. I’m glad my parents let me out of going to the Christmas concert tonight, but I’m not sure running around outside in the middle of a snowstorm is much better.

Fiona and I huddle together, teeth chattering, as we trudge through the open lot at the end of her street. Wind must have whipped all the snow into this one location because walking is getting more and more difficult. My feet fall through the thick snow, and I have to work to pull them up and out for the next step.

“This is crazy,” Fiona says.

“You wanna go back?” I suggest. She’s right, this is nuts. But she is also nuts, so...

“Hell no! We’re almost there!” She nods toward the loading dock at the edge of the lot. Its door is closed, but it won’t be locked. It never is. This summer she rigged it so that it appears locked, but we can still get in.

I groan internally. She’s right. We’ve come this far so we might as well do this thing. If not now, she’ll try to get me to do it again next month.

I can’t decide if I want the summoning to work or not. I mean, it won’t actually work. I’ve run it over in my head so many times. Fiona has to be the one who made the board spell out all those things. And she’s the one who made a big deal about following its instructions and then basically searched our attic until she found something creepy. She still denies it. But it’s either her, or we’ve been communicating with some sort of demon. Which is ridiculous, and I don’t believe it. There’s just no way.

“Give me a boost?” she hollers through the blowing snow. Her hands rest on the edge of the loading dock.

I lock the fingers of my gloves together the best I can, and she steps in, pushing herself up. She kicks out her other leg, hooking the toe of her boot on the edge of the platform, and pulls herself the rest of the way up. Next, she digs her arm into the snow at the bottom of the door, locates the handle, and heaves the door skyward. It clicks as it rolls back to reveal the vacant loading area.

“Come on.” She helps me up the steep ledge, and we dust the snow off our coats.

Inside the warehouse the air is still, which should make it feel warmer, but I shiver against a chill as I take in the cement walls, ceiling, and floors. There’s no wind, but there’s nothing to inspire warmth either. We’ve joked about dumpster-diving an old couch or something to bring in and make it feel more homely, but that involves a lot of brawn, and it’s only the two of us who know about the place.

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