NOTE: Don't forget to preorder the book before August 26th! The US edition has printed edges, as seen in the above image! And the UK has a special Waterstones edition with black edges and auburn leaves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Freddie stayed up too late watching I Love Lucy and The Munsters with Mom and Steve. She felt so guilty about stealing from the archives that she was too ashamed to skulk off to her room early. Which meant Freddie didn't get to explore The Curse of Allard Fortin until well after midnight.
But by then, she was so tired, all she managed to do was open the book to chapter one and read the title (My Family's History As the Allard Fortin Blacksmith). After that, her eyes simply would not stay open any longer.
Alas, her sleep wasn't restful. Instead, her dreams were filled with crows and foggy shapes in the woods. With bells pealing and teenagers screaming.
The final dream she had was of the Hangsman from the poem. Made entirely of shadows, he stalked her through a starlit forest. She ran and ran, but never gained ground. The world was a blur of black and white, until at last she reached the Village Historique and ran into the old schoolhouse.
There, she had no choice but to stop. She had no choice but to turn and face the Hangsman. Her dream-heart thundered; her mind was white with panic. Each step he stalked closer—a pulsing mass of darkness—the more she also spotted flames flickering within.
He reached her. His hands stretched out. And suddenly the shadows around him sucked inward, like a tornado forming, but in reverse. Then he was not an ancient executioner at all.
Instead, he was Theo Porter, frowning, restless, and offering her something. Freddie looked down. He held a heart made of iron. "On n'est jamais si bien servi que par soi-même," he said. "This is for you, and only you can break it."
He was wrong, though. Freddie had no idea how to break it. But she took it all the same, cold and beating and glinting in the darkness.
Then she awoke, sweaty. Confused by the morning sunlight flickering through her blinds. Perhaps most startling of all, though, was that she had "I Want It That Way" stuck on repeat inside her brain.
"My profoundest apologies," she croaked to the NSYNC shrine in her corner. Then she dragged herself from bed, turned on her CD player, and hit Play. It wasn't until she heard JC Chasez and Justin Timberlake (backed up by beautiful Lance, of course) that she finally felt safe again.
That dream had felt too real.
When she eventually felt like herself again (it took three full listens of "I Want You Back"), Freddie wandered into the kitchen to turn on the Mr. Coffee—only to find Mom and Steve already sitting at the table. They were both fully dressed, and Mom had even brushed her hair.
"Uh . . ." Freddie said, rubbing her eyes. "Is this a mirage? Am I still asleep? It's not even ten a.m. Why are you two awake?" Mom and Steve were not early risers on weekends.
"We thought we'd go to the Quick-Bis for breakfast." Mom smiled with a degree of perkiness that suggested she'd already been up for at least an hour.
Steve matched that smile, and all Freddie could think was The mind, it reels. "But you don't like the Quick-Bis."
"I . . . do . . . sometimes."
Freddie wasn't a fool. She knew when she was about to be manipulated. She also knew when her stepdad was salivating—and that moment was right now.
"Shall we go?" Mom asked, still suspiciously perky.
"Grumble," Freddie's stomach replied. Then Freddie's vocal cords answered: "Fine. To the Quick-Bis we go."
YOU ARE READING
The Executioners Three
Teen Fiction*A Wattpad Editor's Choice* Freddie kissed him again. He groaned and pressed into it. Deepened it immediately, kissing her so hard, she thought he might draw blood. She liked it. But then he was pulling away. Backing away three steps, and freezing...
