Chapter 1

These woods are haunted. Everyone knows that. After I packed my bags and left, I told myself I would never, ever come back here. I had faith that I would never see these trees again.

Silly me. Faith is of no use here.

A downpour forced the bus driver to take a detour, then another—until we're bordering the cursed woods. As if I needed a reminder of what I left behind.

I narrow my eyes at the skeletal branches clawing at the dimming sky as the bus jerks, struggling with the muddy road. Devil's Mountain looms behind, at the very heart of the forest. The town I fled is but a whisper away, across the craggy peak.

The bus jerks again. I snuggle closer to the rain-covered window, hugging my backpack. There's a coldness to this place that's not natural. My skin rises with goosebumps. With breath bated, I mentally urge the bus driver to get us out of here.

But what can you expect from a place called Devil's Mountain?

The bus convulses, making me bump my head against the glass. I clench my teeth to stop a groan as I rub my forehead. With a tired hiss, the bus comes to a halt. The lights blink. The engine silences. There's only the sound of pounding rain.

It can't get more horror movie than this.

The other handful of passengers break into a chorus of questions. I straighten up, searching for the driver. He curses under his breath, then opens the doors and jumps off.

I slide a glance at the woods again. The clouds hide the peak of the mountain, but the watery sunset still illuminates the copse of trees. In evenings like these, I used to make myself a massive mug of hot cocoa, piled high with marshmallows. A sigh escapes me. It's been a while.

The driver rushes back in. Memories of sweet desserts take a back seat.

"Engine's dead," he says, jutting a thumb over his shoulder as he wipes water off his face. "There's a gas station not far down the road. I'm going to make a call, but we'll have to wait there."

The voices rise. "Why can't we wait here?" is answered with "Because another car could collide with the bus," and "How long is this going to take?" receives an "I have no idea." Someone complains they're going to sue.

I shoot to my feet and put a smile on my face. "Shit happens," I say, stepping into the corridor. "At least we have a bathroom break."

This seems to calm them down. They nod and mutter in agreement. I wish I had some cupcakes in my backpack. That would improve everyone's mood.

I tighten my hold on my backpack and follow the others out of the bus. The air reeks of damp dirt, rotting leaves, and something else. Something other that I never smelled in any other forest I visited. Something uniquely here.

Just what I needed to bring back all those fun memories from home. You know, learning how to bake, losing my parents, being kidnapped...

I'm back too soon.

I trudge through the muck on the side of the road, my boots sinking with every step. The sunset casts shadows across the road, like fingers reaching for the bus. Picking up my pace, I rush after the others.

Shit happens. Yeah, it sure does. A bit too often for my taste.

Dread fills my stomach and I tell myself to chill out. I'm not going back to New Obernzell. That was never my intention. It's a coincidence that we are here. All I have to do is wait with the others at the gas station until the bus gets fixed. We'll be off soon, and this will all be a bad memory.

Another lovely addition to the list. I wish I had friends to share these stories with. Someone who would help me laugh it off.

Our group huddles together in the gas station forecourt. The convenience store is too small to distract me from my anxious pacing. The sad pastries behind the glass remind me of my bakery. Sometimes I miss that. I miss the small-town charm and brewing coffee for the same people every day.

I don't miss the racism, though. My hometown is also the same place where I almost got roped into a demonic deal.

You know, the usual small-town drama.

As I join the others near the doors, my gaze locks onto the sky. Lightning rolls amid the clouds, but no sound comes. The forest devours it.

And I can only hope it won't devour us, too.