BooksBarbecue
Back When the Stars Go Dark Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Epigraph
  2. Maps
  3. (prologue)
  4. Part 1: Signs and Vapors
  5. (one)
  6. (two)
  7. (three)
  8. (four)
  9. (five)
  10. (six)
  11. (seven)
  12. (eight)
  13. (nine)
  14. (ten)
  15. (eleven)
  16. (twelve)
  17. Part 2: Secret Things
  18. (thirteen)
  19. (fourteen)
  20. (fifteen)
  21. (sixteen)
  22. (seventeen)
  23. (eighteen)
  24. (nineteen)
  25. (twenty)
  26. (twenty-one)
  27. (twenty-two)
  28. (twenty-three)
  29. (twenty-four)
  30. (twenty-five)
  31. (twenty-six)
  32. (twenty-seven)
  33. (twenty-eight)
  34. (twenty-nine)
  35. (thirty)
  36. (thirty-one)
  37. (thirty-two)
  38. (thirty-three)
  39. (thirty-four)
  40. (thirty-five)
  41. (thirty-six)
  42. (thirty-seven)
  43. (thirty-eight)
  44. (thirty-nine)
  45. Part 3: Time and the Maiden
  46. (forty)
  47. (forty-one)
  48. (forty-two)
  49. (forty-three)
  50. (forty-four)
  51. (forty-five)
  52. (forty-six)
  53. (forty-seven)
  54. (forty-eight)
  55. (forty-nine)
  56. (fifty)
  57. (fifty-one)
  58. (fifty-two)
  59. (fifty-three)
  60. Part 4: The Bent Grove
  61. (fifty-four)
  62. (fifty-five)
  63. (fifty-six)
  64. (fifty-seven)
  65. (fifty-eight)
  66. (fifty-nine)
  67. (sixty)
  68. (sixty-one)
  69. (sixty-two)
  70. (sixty-three)
  71. (sixty-four)
  72. (sixty-five)
  73. (sixty-six)
  74. (sixty-seven)
  75. (sixty-eight)
  76. (sixty-nine)
  77. (seventy)
  78. Dedication
  79. (acknowledgments)
  80. (author’s note)
  81. BY PAULA MCLAIN
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

He doesn’t answer, just makes a noncommittal wave, his shadow breaking up and then retreating, thankfully. When I’m alone again, I feel safer, but still have to find a way out of here. The jump I made getting down doesn’t work for up, obviously. Feeling stupid for my predicament, I pace back and forth along the cliff wall, looking for a better way, but there isn’t one. No handholds or well-placed gouges. The wind has picked up and I’m shivering now, too. If I have to sleep down here, I’m going to freeze to death.

“Hey!” The voice comes again. He’s back.

Shit.

“Watch out, I’m throwing down a rope.”

(thirty-two)

Even with the rope, the climb is a struggle. The fibers are rough and feel like woody splinters, eating into my palms as I inch my way along the cliff face, banging up my elbows and knees. The muscles in my back contract, and my thighs begin to burn. Why does this look so easy in action movies, I wonder, and who is this guy anyway, some well-meaning neighbor or passerby, or a full-on villain? And how the hell did I end up here, letting a stranger hold my body weight, with no choice at all but to keep going?

When I finally reach the top, he gives me his hand and pulls me, breathless and full of adrenaline, over the ragged lip of the bluff and onto the path. It’s the Summer of Love hippie guy from Rotary Park. The street behind him is empty, the storefronts flat and dark.

“I remember you,” he says, dropping the length of rope at his feet. “Not too safe down there, you know.”

I glance up and down the path we’re standing on, weighing my options if this goes bad, and then back at his face and body, trying to read him. He’s a big guy, big enough to snap a girl’s neck in two without difficulty. Big enough to take me out if that’s where this is going. “I’m fine. I know what I’m doing. Thanks, though.”

“Last month, a rogue wave took a guy right out to sea. Happened at Devil’s Punchbowl. They come from nowhere.”

His speech is odd and clipped, the sentences coming in sharp little fragments. But he also hasn’t moved toward me or said anything particularly threatening. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m Clay LaForge. My girl and I were just sitting in the park when we saw you go by a bit ago. When you didn’t come back through, she sent me to check.”

“Oh.” I can hardly believe what he’s saying. Most people don’t give a damn about anyone who doesn’t directly touch their lives. “That’s…nice of her.”