He woofed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The only person who wants a gold ring more desperately than a girl in a five-year relationship goes by the name of Gollum.
- Imogen Warner, reading Tolkien
I raced down the side road, holding the steering wheel steady with my knees. I used one hand to press the bag of frozen peas to my face as the other dialed Gwen’s number. As soon as it started to ring, I toggled the speakerphone function and tossed the cellphone into the center console tray.
“Hello?” Gwen’s voice sounded tinny through the speaker.
I was too busy squinting at the rusty street sign up ahead to respond. I was sixty-three percent sure that was where I was supposed to turn, but the letters were so faded I couldn’t be certain. I probably should’ve spent more than twenty seconds studying the directions before I backed out of Cade’s driveway and took off.
Was it a right or a left after the railroad crossing?
Shit.
I didn’t have the luxury of getting lost. My car was running on fumes. In the passenger seat, Socks was hanging his head so far out the window, I worried he was going to fall out.
“Hello?” Gwen repeated. “Anyone there?”
“Hi! Sorry!” I steered onto yet another side road. This one led past a sketchy-looking encampment of tents and tarps. Isodid not want to run out of gas in this neck of the woods. “It’s Imogen.”
“So says the caller ID,” she said wryly. “What’s up? You need a lift to the store?”
“No, I have my car back.”
“That’s great news! You can park on Essex, there were a bunch of open spots?—”
“I’m not coming in today.”
“Oh. That’s not-so-great news.” She paused. “Please tell me you’re not currently driving out of town, ne’er to return?”
“Driving, yes. Out of town, no…”
As I drove to my destination, I filled Gwen in on my plans. I figuredsomeoneshould know where I was going, seeing as I was headed into the marshlands all alone, where I would quite possibly come face to face with an honest-to-god bog witch who stole the souls of innocent children. I didn’t even know what a bog witchwas, let alone how to confront one. I’d already had my ass kicked once today, and the sun was barely up.
Adrian’s handiwork was ugly as ever. There was a serious shiner blooming over my left eye socket. (Hence the frozen peas.) Cade was going to go apoplectic when he saw it. Unless, of course, I was murdered by the Witch of Salem Wood before he had a chance.
“So, anyway,” a note of hysteria crept into my voice, but I plowed on. “If I never return from this little walk in the woods, feel free to call Cade and tell him that Socks is with me.”
On the other end of the line, Gwen was uncharacteristically quiet.
“You should probably also tell him to send some sort of rescue squad,” I tacked on.
She was still quiet.
“Also, while you’re at it, tell him to buy some better cereal options, for the love of god. I mean… Raisin Bran?Raisin Bran?What am I, a triathlete?”
Still, nothing in my ear but quiet.
“Gwen? Did I lose you?”
“Nope,” she said, sounding weirdly out of breath.
“Are you running?”
“Yep.”