Open.
Another memory: Logan smiling in his boxers, looking beautiful.
For me, Chrystal. Please …
My lips open. I swallow. It takes everything I have, all my willpower, but I swallow.
The wolf howls somewhere. He’s alive? No. I killed him. The wolf is trying to be me. I am the one howling. I can’t tell what’s real. I see his mouth. Pain ripples through my pores. Someone screams and screams and screams, and it takes a second before I realize that the someone screaming is me.
* * *
Someone sobs in the corner of the room. I can’t see them because my eyes don’t want to open. It’s a man, though, I can tell by the pitch.
My body is a heavy, heavy thing. So I let it pull me back in.
* * *
“She died?”
I am not dead.
Are they talking about me?
I try to open my eyes.
I am not dead.
“Her heart stopped.”
I smell rain.
Someone pounds on my chest, sobbing.
I am not dead.
* * *
The world lurches in. My lungs fill with air and it screams fire through my chest. My eyes open. Logan’s face is above me. His hands push against my ribs, pounding pain and life back into me. His face is squeezed tight. Tears stream down his cheeks.
“Chrystal?”
“Hallelujah!!” Dad’s standing in the corner. He claps his hands. “I didn’t kill her!”
He starts doing a little jig, an Irish jig sort of step dance. I close my eyes. He is so embarrassing.
“Chrystal?” Logan’s voice again. His lips against my forehead. “Baby?”
“I’m not a baby,” I murmur. “That’s sexist.”
He starts cracking up, just laughing and laughing, and David stands there behind him and then my dad comes over and says, “You live! You live!”
And I do.
* * *
Not much time passes and I grab Logan’s hands. He won’t let go of me, rocks me back and forth, telling me I’m crazy and good and too damn brave and he likes me in a love way. David cracks up and leaves the room because he says Logan’s giving men a bad name.
“You have to go save your dad,” I tell him.
“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”
* * *
David and Dad stay with me while Logan goes. I sleep, and when I wake up, people are in the kitchen, talking. The only one with me is Dad. He puts his hands on my cheeks and brings his face right above mine.
“You are conscious!”
“Mmm. Hmmm,” I murmur. My lips stretch into a smile. “I’m okay?”
“So okay … so beautifully, amazingly okay,” he says.
“And Logan’s dad?”
“He is well. He almost died, but he came back.”
“Oh,” I say, “that’s good.”
He laughs. His entire body seems like it’s full of joy. I love it when he’s like that. “That’s all? ‘That’s good’? You risked your life to save him, Chrystal.”
“It’s beyond good,” I say, grabbing his hand. I try to squeeze, but I fail. “But I’m a little tired right now.”
He starts. “Oh, my poor baby, of course you are! Of course! Sleep.”
I nod.
He begins to walk away and then turns back around, returning to the couch. “I didn’t tell you how proud I am. When we first came here, I knew you didn’t want to come, knew you were anti-Oklahoma and a little anti-me, which is normal, Chrystal. It’s normal to feel that way, so don’t protest. I’m not offended. When we first came here, you were a follower, but now … you’re a hero. I could never imagine that my own daughter would be such shining proof of what humanity is capable of. I am only sorry that I’ve been such a selfish father, that I haven’t been able to give you that family, that home you want, that you crave. And I put you in such danger.”
I blink back tears. “Dad?”
“What?”
“I love you. I think you are an awesome father.” I swallow. It’s so hard. “But I don’t want to go home. I want a family, Dad. I want people who are solid and real and who are here when I need them.”
He cocks his head. “I know.”
“Also, I would really like my guitar.”
* * *
The next time I wake up, I’m feeling much better and I’m in Logan’s bed. There are flowers on his bookcase—the orange ones I now love so much, and it must be nighttime because the outside world is dark. There’s a night-light on and a little corner lamp, which gives the room a nice orange glow.
Logan’s sitting on the floor, touching my bass. He’s holding it in his lap. His fingers lightly pluck the strings. It sounds like a mess, but it’s also beautiful.
“Logan.”
He jumps up, putting the bass against the wall before rushing to the bed. He slows himself and then sits gingerly on the side of the bed. He makes my name a question. “Chrystal?”
I smile. The muscles in my face protest it, feel like they’re stretching, but there’s no stopping the smile.
Tears stream out of Logan’s eyes, but his face doesn’t twist up into something sad. He keeps smiling as he says, “I can’t believe you. I can’t … You’re okay.”
“Yeah. I am.”
My hand lifts up to wipe at his tears. Even that is hard, but it’s worth it to touch his skin. He reaches up, grabs my hand, and kisses my fingers.
“I thought we were going to lose you. I thought—It was horrible.”
“Sorry,” I croak out.
“Do you want water?” He gives me some. It helps. He tells me his dad is doing about the same as I am, which for his dad is a great improvement. He had to get Kelsey to bring in the cure, but she did. He’s proud of her. He’s proud of me.
“I’m proud of you,” I tell him.
“Me?” he scoffs. “Why? You’d killed that thing long before I shot it.”
I shake my head. “No, because you used to try to write poems, and now you live them.”
He takes that in for a second and smiles, a slow, creeping smile. “Do you know what your dad said?”
“Oh no…” I dread what crazy thing it might have been.
“He said we’ve all been bound by tragic and adrenaline-filled events, and bonds have been forged that shouldn’t be broken and some more things … I tuned him out,” he apologizes, but he still won’t stop smiling. “But he said he won’t make you go home. He said it would be detrimental to take you away from the people who experienced these traumatic events with you. At least, he said not right away.”
“He really said that?” I ask. My heart beats faster, lighter.
“Yeah.”
“Are you good with that?” I ask.
He laughs. “So good. Are you good with that? I know you really wanted to go to New York.”
“I still want to go to New York, but it feels … it feels a little much right now. I can practice without a mentor for a bit. How about you? You sure you’re okay with all of this? Remember how embarrassed you were when we first met?”
“I thought everyone would think I was touched.” He coughs and then adds, “In the head. Touched that way. Plus, my poems … They’re awful.”
“They aren’t awful awful,” I say. “And even if they were, that doesn’t mean you should stop writing them. Anyway, there are worse things for people to think about you. You know what Kierkegaard said?”
“A lot.”
I laugh. “True. But one of the biggest things he ever said is also the simplest. He said, ‘Do not forget your duty to love yourself.’”
“That doesn’t really seem wordy enough for him.”
“I know. Sometimes you don’t need words and quotes. Sometimes you just have to be.”
We both stare, smiling at each other. Someone honks a horn in the driveway.
“Police?” I ask.
Logan shakes his head. “No. Neighbors have been bringing food all day because Dad’s in the
hospital and Mom’s there with him. Usually they do that for funerals, but Dad came back. Just like you.”
I smile up at him. “And I get to stay.”
“You think you could handle a kiss? Would it hurt?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.
“Aw, if it did, it would be so worth it,” I say.
It is.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Acknowledgments are supposed to be the place where you thank people for helping you to create a book. So, obviously, I have to thank Steve Wedel, who looks like he belongs in Metallica, writes scary things, but has the biggest heart ever.
Thank you to Mel Frain, Zohra Ashpari, and Kaitlin Severeni for making this book so much better. And to Christa Heschke for waiting for me and making me believe in myself and story again.
But acknowledgments are also the place where you thank people for helping you survive and enjoy your life, so thank you to Shaun Farrar who looks like he might kill you with a glare, but is strong and funny, can lift you up in the air with one arm, and who has a knight’s goodness, but a raunchy sense of humor. I appreciate you so much.
Thank you to the amazing Emily Ciciotte, who looks like a supermodel, but could actually kill you with a glare, or with just the sheer force of her brilliant mind, but who really is the most wonderful human I know, saver of birds, lost dogs, fighting soldiers, and mothers. Thank you always for making me a better human.
Finally, thank you to all the infinitely kind and patient friends and kids and dogs I have in real-life world and social-media world who listen to Dogs Are Smarter Than People, who read my posts and tweets, who send me dog, cat, and manatee photos, and who just try so hard to fight the suck that can be overwhelming for all of us sometimes. You are what’s good in this world. You give me so much hope. I want you to have hope, too. We’ve got this. I think.
—CARRIE
Well, I obviously have to thank my gracious, quirky, funny co-writer, Carrie Jones, the best speed-date-the-author partner anyone could ever ask for. Writing books with you is as fun as it can get.
I wish I could thank Wilda Walker, the Enid High School creative writing teacher who put me on this journey as an author and made me want to become a teacher. I know she’s still writing poetry in the Great Beyond.
Many thanks to Melissa Frain and the staff at Tor for taking this little story Carrie and I put together and making it better than it was, and for being so amazingly easy and fun to work with. And patient, too.
I appreciate the students I’ve had over the years more than they’ll ever know. You guys are more than just character traits and story fodder. I swear it!
Thank you to Kim, Alex, Sara, Amanda, and Jacob, for putting up with my writing habit and for still being there for me.
My parents bought me my first typewriter a long, long time ago. They’ve always supported me, but more than ever this past year. Mom and Dad, thank you! This goes to my sister, Rachel, and her family, too.
Lastly, thank you to the readers who have kept me going when I felt like giving up so many times. Your emails, reviews, and comments on social media mean so much.
—STEVE
ALSO BY CARRIE JONES
THE NEED SERIES
Need
Captivate
Entice
Endure
THE FLYING SERIES
Flying
Enhanced
THE TIME STOPPERS SERIES
Time Stoppers
Quest for the Golden Arrow
Escape from the Badlands
ALSO BY STEVEN E. WEDEL
NOVELS AND NOVELLAS
Seven Days in Benevolence
Little Graveyard on the Prairie
Amara’s Prayer
Inheritance
The Prometheus Syndrome
Love Curse
Shim and Shay’s Wish
Orphan
A Light Beyond
Songbird
COLLECTIONS
Darkscapes
Unholy Womb and Other Halloween Tales
The Zombie Whisperer and Other Weird Tales
The God of Discord and Other Weird Tales
THE WEREWOLF SAGA SERIES
Call to the Hunt
Murdered by Human Wolves
Shara
Ulrik
Nadia’s Children
AS EDITOR
Tails of the Pack
BOOKS BY CARRIE JONES AND STEVEN E. WEDEL
After Obsession
In the Woods
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
CARRIE JONES is the New York Times bestselling author of the Need series, Flywing, and other award-winning books for teens. She is a distinguished alum of Vermont College of Fine Arts’s MFA program, a podcaster, and an award-winning Maine photographer and journalist.
Visit her online at carriejonesbooks.blog, or sign up for email updates here.
STEVEN E. WEDEL is a high school English teacher living in Oklahoma with his dogs, Bubba and Bear. Before becoming a teacher, he was an award-winning journalist. He holds a master’s degree in Liberal Studies: Creative Writing from the University of Oklahoma.
Visit him online at www.stevenewedel.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Epigraphs
1. Logan
2. Chrystal
3. Logan
4. Chrystal
5. Logan
6. Chrystal
7. Logan
9. Logan
10. Chrystal
11. Logan
12. Chrystal
13. Logan
14. Chrystal
15. Logan
16. Chrystal
17. Logan
18. Chrystal
19. Logan
20. Chrystal
21. Logan
22. Chrystal
23. Logan
24. Chrystal
25. Logan
26. Chrystal
27. Logan
28. Chrystal
29. Logan
30. Chrystal
31. Logan
32. Chrystal
33. Logan
34. Chrystal
35. Logan
36. Chrystal
Acknowledgments
Also by Carrie Jones and Steven E. Wedel
About the Authors
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
IN THE WOODS
Copyright © 2019 by Carrie Jones and Steven E. Wedel
All rights reserved.
Image of forest © Joanna JanKowsKa/Arcangel Images Image of girl © Rekha Arcangel/Arcangel Images Cover design and lettering by Daniela Medina
A Tor Teen Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-3655-2 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-2847-6 (ebook)
eISBN 9781466828476
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First Edition: July 2019