Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [109]
And then I heard the third sound—a heavy, thudding, rhythmic sound. I glanced over my shoulder as I ran, and my blood ran cold—a large figure was following me, racing after me.
Even in the darkness I could make him out.
Anthony.
“You better run!” Distant but savage, his warning spurred me on. I ran faster, afraid if I tried to call someone I’d drop the phone, or lose speed. And that’s all he’d need to catch up with me. I kept looking at the empty street, hoping to see a taxi or any car that I could flag down. City that never sleeps my aching butt.
The phone in my hand vibrated. I opened it and barely had it to my ears when I heard Brendan’s frantic voice.
“Where are you? I heard your message, Em, are you okay?”
“Anthony’s following me!” I screamed, gasping for air as I ran, feeling a sharp pain slice through my ankle every time my foot hit the sidewalk in the thin slippers.
“Where are you?” Brendan yelled.
“Met,” I gasped. “People—there will be people there.”
“I called the cops after I heard your message. I’m coming,” he shouted. I shut the phone, holding it tightly as I pushed myself faster, seeing the white museum grow closer with each step.
Don’t even look behind you. Just keep going. Don’t waste any time.
I raced along the empty, dark sidewalk, the streetlights ahead of me flickering as the light inside them stuttered and died. It was as if I were running into a tunnel of darkness. I rounded the corner when I got to the Met, scanning the grass for the sight of anyone—any people, any classmates, even a stray homeless guy. Someone. I needed a witness; I needed someone to see me.
But it was empty. The night was so cold—too cold. But the temperature wasn’t what set me shaking. I turned around—he was farther away, but he was still coming for me. And he wasn’t going to stop.
In spite of myself, my muscles locked, immobile. Do I continue to run away, up Fifth Avenue? It was a straight shot—nowhere to hide, since the park wall was on one side, practically framing me as prey. Should I try to double back and go to Vince A?
I peered into the park—dark, silent. I could lose him in the park. I knew my way around.
I made my decision, running through the night-chilled grass into Central Park.
I stayed close to the rear of the museum, hoping to find a security guard or someone to help me. I shivered as I rested my back against the museum, trying to quiet my breathing as I listened for his pounding, heavy footsteps. All I heard was the wind rustling the dead leaves along the lawn.
My phone rang again—the tone echoing off the stone of the building as if you were ringing a Church bell. I grabbed it quickly.
“Brendan, no one’s here. The Met was empty. I’m afraid,” I whispered into the cold metal. “I don’t know if I lost him.”
“I’m close—where are you?” Brendan’s breathing was heavy—it sounded like he was running to meet me.
“I’m behind the Met—I’m trying to lose him in the park.” My voice shook as I slinked through the trees. I tried to avoid the lampposts, opting to stay hidden in the dark.
“Emma, don’t do that—please, get out of the park. I’ll be there in a minute.” Brendan’s voice was softly pleading, but I could hear the urgency behind it.
I cautiously stepped back on the pathway, looking behind me as I passed the Obelisk behind the Met.
“I think I lost him,” I said, relieved.
“Where are you exactly?”
“Not too far from Belvedere Castle,” I said, walking backward and watching the empty pathway, which twisted before me.
“I’ll be there soon,” Brendan vowed. “Just stay on the phone with me until then. Is there anyone there—a security guard, anyone?”
“No. Wait, I only see…” I squinted in the distance at a dark, shadowy form—was that a person? I couldn’t tell.
And then the form began moving. It was running. It was coming for me.
“He’s here,” I choked.
My fight or flight kicked in—because I was flying. I ran along the pathway, berating myself with every throbbing foot step that I rapidly pounded into the dark pavement.
Stupid girl, stupid cliché. Run off into