The Dead and the Dark

by Courtney Gould

Logan inspected her strappy leather sandals under the glove box. “I’ll be fine. Anything’s a walking shoe if you believe in yourself.”

HERE ALL ALONG.

“We’ve been looking into the same thing this whole time,” Brandon said. “Tracking the same deaths. The same killer.”

Brandon looked at Ashley and the shadows on his face were sharp as a knife. “The thing you’re looking for is called the Dark, and I created it.”

“Thank you,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.” Tristan’s embrace tightened. She was sure it did. For just a moment, everything was warm. It smelled like diesel fuel and mown grass and eighteen years of memory. The world Tristan had created for them overtook her and they were lying in the bed of her truck, laughing and whispering and staring at the stars. The whole sky was open above them and they were home. Ashley breathed it in one last time, and then it faded away. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he was gone. Tristan Granger was dead, and he was gone.