The first raindrops fell as they sprinted back toward campus, fat and cold against Vinny's burning skin. Deborah's hand stayed locked with his, her grip so tight his fingers ached. He didn't complain. That pain kept him present, kept him from slipping back into the nightmare visions the tree had shown him.
Lena vanished somewhere near the gym, disappearing into the shadows with only a hissed "Tomorrow night" before she was gone.
Deborah didn't let go until they reached the dormitory steps. When she finally released him, her palm left behind a ghost of warmth that faded too quickly. "You're shaking," she said.
Vinny hadn't noticed. Now that she mentioned it, his whole body trembled like he'd been plunged into ice water. The marks on his wrist had faded to faint silver lines again, but the memory of their spread—the way they'd crawled up his arm like living things—made his stomach churn.
"You should get inside," he said, avoiding her eyes. "Before the storm gets worse."
Lightning flashed, illuminating the determination on Deborah's face. "Not until you promise me something." She stepped closer, close enough that her rain-dampened curls brushed his cheek. "No more secrets. Whatever happens next, we face it together."
Vinny's throat tightened. He wanted that more than anything. But the tree's warning echoed in his skull: *Before she wakes.* Who was "she"? What would happen if—
A deafening crack of thunder drowned his thoughts. The sky opened up, rain coming down in sheets. Deborah grabbed his hand again and pulled him under the dormitory awning just as the downpour turned the quad into a shallow lake.
They stood there, breathless and dripping, the storm raging around them. Vinny became acutely aware of how close they were—close enough to count the raindrops clinging to Deborah's eyelashes, close enough to see the pulse fluttering at her throat.
"I promise," he whispered.
The words had barely left his lips when the power across campus flickered and died. In the sudden darkness, Deborah's gasp was loud in his ears. Then her fingers were on his face, tracing the line of his jaw with a tenderness that stole his breath.
"You're still glowing," she murmured.
Vinny looked down. The marks on his wrist pulsed faintly in the dark, casting eerie silver light across their faces. Before he could respond, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the night—coming from the direction of the girls' dormitory.
Deborah went rigid. "That's Sheila."
They ran toward the sound, slipping on wet pavement. The scream came again, sharper this time, followed by the sound of shattering glass. When they rounded the corner, Vinny's blood turned to ice.
Sheila stood framed in a broken window, her normally perfect hair wild around her face. But it wasn't fear in her eyes—it was something far worse. Recognition.
"She's here," Sheila whispered, staring straight at Vinny. Then her body jerked violently, as if pulled by invisible strings. "The Lady of the Roots is awake."
Behind her, the shadows moved wrong. They twisted and coiled like smoke, forming shapes that almost looked like arms, like fingers reaching—
The window exploded outward in a shower of glass. Vinny barely had time to throw himself over Deborah before the world went black.
When he came to, the rain had stopped. The campus was silent. And Sheila was gone.
Only the scent of damp earth and something faintly floral lingered in the air where she'd stood. The same scent Vinny had noticed near the tree.
Deborah's hands clutched at his shoulders. "Vinny... your marks..."
He looked down. The silver lines had reformed into a new symbol—an intricate knotwork pattern that looked disturbingly like a key.
The storm had only just begun.