To Tell An Altswood Lie (The Altswood Saga #3)

Chapter 4 - Refract

Chapter 4 - Refract

I started running through scenarios at record speed. I could go outside, pick up the phone, and get threatened by a computer-generated voice to do unspeakable things. I could ignore it, stay inside, and anger a computer-generated voice to hunt me down and slash me to pieces in my own room. I could go outside and bump into a killer who was waiting right in the kitchen. I could ignore it and have the call turn out to be an emergency broadcast from the police station.

Before I could make a decision, the ringing stopped. Silence—nothing except the smallest groan from the floorboards beneath my feet. I touched my forehead and my fingers came back slick with cold sweat.

One tense second passed. Another crawled by.

The ringing started up again.

"Alright," I spat. "Fine."

I grabbed a nearby textbook, choosing one with a hard cover that made it heavier than a baseball bat, and stormed into the hallway. I could barely catch my breath, but I walked as if I was barging into an enemy stronghold, skidding into the kitchen ready to smack anyone waiting there.

But it was just me and the phone. I picked up.

"Hello?" I barked.

Try me, I dare you, I wanted to add.

Silence. More agonising silence—each micro-moment that ticked by convincing me of a Scream-like caller on the other end. Then:


"Luca, dear?"

Every muscle in my body loosened into a heap. "Mrs. Nguyen?" I exclaimed, recognising her voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine," my elderly neighbour replied. "I should be asking you that question—I heard screaming."

I sighed in relief, expelling my tension. That would explain a 3AM phone call.

"It was just a nightmare," I said, using my sleeve to dry the sweat along my neck. "No one's getting murdered." I tried to crack a smile at my own joke, but it was a long stretch.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Nguyen said. "Is your father there with you?"

"Um—" The last thing I wanted was to worry the old woman. "He is," I lied. "I'm fine now, don't worry."

Mrs. Nguyen seemed appeased by my answer. "That's good, dear. If you need anything, just come over, alrighty?"

"Will do," I said. Then, frowning, I asked, "Mrs. Nguyen, how are you even calling? We never got a number for this phone."

"Oh, I just dialled the same one as the old neighbour's," she replied. "I figured it wouldn't change."

That explained half of it, but last I checked, our landline was unplugged too. I peered at the wires behind the phone. It was too dark to confirm anything.

I said goodbye to Mrs. Nguyen and hung up, unnerved by the whole encounter.

"You're fine," I whispered, picking up my textbook. "You're fine now."

I put a hand on my stomach to ease my twisting insides, but it did more harm than good. As I walked back to my bedroom, I could feel the scar tissue on my torso through my thin shirt, the result of a gaping hole that Rebekah had put in me with a piping hot bullet. When I passed the mirror in my vanity table, I halted, almost frozen at the sight of my own face, the one that had been twisted with such hatred in my dream.

My panic was coming back. I sank to the floor, needing to sit down.

"Dad?" I whispered, even though I knew he wasn't home. My voice wobbled. "Dad, where are you?"