BAD TIMES • STEVE HARRINGTON

22. trust me

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chapter twenty-two

IF YOU ASKED DIANA, Eddie Munson—with his long dark hair and terrified eyes—was a bit of an asshole, but he was so clearly traumatized that she was willing to give him a pass, even if he'd tried to kill her boyfriend with a glass bottle to the neck.

They'd found him hiding out in Reefer Rick's outdoor shed, and after some convincing—done mostly by Dustin— they were able to calm him down and explain. While she physically couldn't help but to tune out most of it, opting out of burdening him with the story behind her own involvement, she couldn't stop the images of Chrissy's death from flooding her mind.

Eddie's retelling was graphic, and she was glad she wasn't privy to the actual visual, but she'd felt something last night. Despite being in the circle of Steve's arms, she'd shivered herself to a restless sleep the night before.

Today, she was with a thousand less mental fortifications and a ringing in her ears to prove it. "Diana, are you hearing this?" Dustin asked.

Her eyes focused on the people on the other side of the cluttered shed. She hadn't even realized she'd wandered off. She was standing in a corner filled with various tools and tarps and fishing equipment. The shed smelled of fish and lake water. It was dark and the only light was coming from a pair of flashlights. She could just barely make out the five pairs of eyes on her.

She didn't answer, but she wrapped her arms around herself, her windbreaker rustling loudly. There was a deep chill in her bones. The ringing in her ears became more incessant. She brought her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.

She could see a fire—a car crash and burning bodies— and then nothing. Abruptly, the ringing in her ears stopped, and she gasped, feeling as if she'd just walked face first into a brick wall.

There was nothing. No vision, although she was sure it had been coming.

"Diana?" Steve asked, his breath tickling her face. Her eyes shot open, and she jumped, not expecting him to be so close. Her hands dropped from her ears and she stared at him. His eyes were wild. "Did you see something?"

Her mouth opened and then shut. She didn't have an answer. "I—I need to scry," she said finally.

Steve turned toward the group of knowing faces and the one confused one. Then she saw Dustin spur into action, grabbing a flashlight and tossing it into Steve's awaiting hand.

"Did she say—" Eddie began, but Dustin interrupted him.

"We'll explain later."

She took the flashlight and sat right where she stood. Diana looked up at Steve and reached out a hand. "I need an anchor." He grabbed her hand without hesitation and squeezed tightly. "Twelve minutes. Don't let me stay under any longer than that."

Steve nodded, a determined look on his face. Assured, Diana balanced the flashlight on the floor of the shed and stared right into it.

She welcomed the familiar burn and then the uncomfortable blankness that followed. And then she was in the Void.

It was the same as it had been the last time she'd scried—endless unfathomable blackness, except this time there was a young boy sitting at a short table, coloring carelessly onto the pages of a notebook. The wooden table reminded her a bit of the one that had been in her kindergarten class, where she'd spent hours sitting alone, the other empty seats taunting her. This boy didn't seem to mind, though.

Diana took a few tentative steps toward him, and then he gazed up at her, his blue eyes piercing. She felt an air of familiarity, but before she could place it, it was gone, and he was just a unnamed boy who couldn't be more than thirteen. They studied each other. His pale skin was unblemished and his blonde hair was perfectly slicked back. His white buttons up was pristine, and he looked utterly innocent. She felt a poke against her mind, but her fortress held firm, though it was a struggle. Diana was sure that the culprit was the boy before her, but she wasn't sure he was a boy at all.