To Hell and Back by Amira Vasileva

Author:Amira Vasileva
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2020-10-06T14:52:25+00:00

Chapter 16

After waking up from no nightmares or dreams, but with an annoying headache that comes and goes, I have the feeling that today will be a game-changer. Of course, it’s mainly because Michael promised to tell me everything—I’m not quite sure whether his everything will be the same as my everything though. Weird. Anyway, today can certainly bring new answers—or questions.

I get ready quickly and dress in plain black jeans, a black T-shirt, and the sweater Michael gave me—I feel safer that way—I look around my room for a bag I can take in school.

Eventually, I find a black Longchamp large tote bag. Am I becoming a Goth? Nah, just a coincidence. When I’m ready for the cemetery, then maybe.

Speaking of the cemetery…maybe it takes more time to arrange for a funeral—I’ve never been to one—but I keep wondering if our lacrosse team will go to Pun’s funeral. He was our coach, after all.

That reminds me to check something…

I Google Brooklyn news for recent articles, specifically for something about the church I burned. Not to mention the priest—who, on second thought, deserved it.

“What!?” I can’t keep my voice down. What I’m reading is shocking.

The only article that mentions a burned building doesn’t mention a church. But when I look at the picture, I see where the church was. This makes no sense! Either the journalist mistakenly wrote, “Empty, old manufacturing building caught on fire…” or the church (or the citadel, as the priest called it) was indeed hidden from human eyes.

I look for any mention of someone dying in the fire, but there’s nothing—no one in critical condition, either. But how could he have survived!? I saw him take his last breath with my own eyes. Unless someone cleaned it up…

Of course! Now it makes sense why he kept saying “we”, as if he was more than one person—because he actually wasn’t. He worked with someone else, on something else. But that can mean only one thing: whatever this entity is, they want to see me dead. “Daughter of the dragon”—what dragon? They don’t even exist!

Okay, Lucy. Step by step. That’s the plan, at least.

I close Google and go to my bank account to block the card—not that Sam would take my money when he has billions of his own, but I still worry that more than a hundred thousand dollars can disappear. Yeah, my parents keep giving me money, but I’m just not the type of person who buys expensive clothes and shoes. And that’s only one of my debit cards: I have three.

I finish and then drop a few pens, a notepad, and a few sheets of paper in the tote bag. I head downstairs.

As I reach the second floor, my phone rings. The caller ID shows a number I’ve never seen before.

“Hello?” Probably some spam.

I hear deep breaths, as if the person calling has just run a marathon. “Don’t trust anyone, but most importantly, Lucinda, don’t trust yourself! Dark time—no! Please, I—”

Screaming, I drop my phone. It crashes down the stairs and then breaks into pieces.

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