She tried to listen for footsteps behind her. But all she could hear was the thump, thump, thump of her own feet, and her heart pounding in her ears.

She had to stop.

She had to.

Stop.

April collapsed at the side of the road and waited for a cold blade to slice her throat. She waited, her lungs heaving so hard she thought they might pop like balloons at the end of a birthday party.

She waited.

April opened her eyes. She couldn’t see anything. She was lightheaded, and her ears were ringing. She blinked. She saw something, a stoplight, some traffic. But no man, and no life-stealing blade.

Was she safe? April rose to her knees. There was no one chasing her. Had it worked? Had Xandria told August the truth?

Her breathing began to return to normal, and with it, her rational thought. Charlie. She needed to get to Charlie.

She stood and waved down a taxi, got into the car, and gave the driver the address. He hit the accelerator, asking if she was okay. She answered no. He shrugged as if it really didn’t make any difference.

It was a long drive. Probably not if it had been a normal situation, if she was simply running across town to pick up a book that had just been released or to get some tea with an old college friend. But now the trek seemed like an eternity. She asked the driver if he could speed up. He shrugged, the same way he had before. He didn’t understand. Or maybe he just wanted to act like he didn’t.

“Stop here,” April said. They were two blocks from her house. She could see that the lights were on. But the shades were drawn, and there was no way to see anything inside. She gave the man his money. She didn’t tip. It could be considered a mean thing to do, but she felt like he had deliberately taken his time, racked up a couple extra bucks on the meter. He was keeping her from seeing her son. A son who could be hurt, or dead. He couldn’t know that. But April kept her change anyway. She shrugged at him as he sped away, shrugging being the only language he seemed able to interpret.

April began walking toward her house, keeping out of the urine-yellow luminescence of the streetlights. She couldn’t be too careful. She’d learned that, if nothing else.

She was only two houses away. If Xandria was right, then no one but Charlie and Grandma Rose would be in the house. Whoever had been there before should have been told to leave, now that they had their precious Bible.