Lena flipped absently through the guidebook again, her dark green eyes darting to the window every few sentences. The one-bedroom apartment was the front corner unit on the top floor of a new complex on the edge of town, just under a mile from the docks. The ferry was the only way on or off of the island, much of the sixty square miles still covered in forest. The slim book she’d snagged from the visitor’s center had plenty of history, but almost nothing about the town currently; she hadn’t noticed the title, Backstory of Blackwood, until she’d already brought it home. She figured it was still better than going in blind.

‘White Island sits thirty miles off the coast of northern California,’ she read for the fiftieth time. ‘It’s so named for the limestone bluffs that protected the original settlement from rough weather, parts of which still surround the town today. One local legend also claims that—’

She snapped it shut and turned back to the window. The two-lane road that led into town cut through what was left of those bluffs, after nearly two centuries of being hacked away at for construction material. It passed a large sign made of planks, painted a cheery white and bright ocean blue, welcoming everyone who saw it to Blackwood Cove, proudly established in 1834. From what she’d heard, the population had never risen much above three thousand.

The sun was setting, highlighting the carpet of trees in amber as the bright blue sky faded to the violet of a summer twilight. As excited as she was for the chance to start a new life, part of her still longed for the one she knew had ended years ago.

‘Ended’ was putting it mildly, she decided. It would be more accurate to say it had gone up in screaming, blood-tinged flames. The few officers she’d spoken to had only said they couldn’t confirm a culprit, or a motive. One had even had the nerve to say it had likely just been a terrible accident. Even with what little she’d understood back then, Lena was sure they had all been lying. She’d wanted nothing more than to scream at them, to say it all could have been avoided if they had just paid attention in the first place. But they hadn’t, and everyone around her had been forced to pay the price. 

Well, nearly everyone.

Why did it have to happen? She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. What did we do to deserve to all this?

Her eyes burned, but the tears wouldn’t come. She’d buried them too deep for too long. She swiped at her dry cheek, then nudged the book from its spot on the back of the couch. It fell open on the cushion in front of her, showing another passage she’d read a hundred times.

‘A thick forest of pine, maple, oak and birch still covers most of the island, the oldest trees dating back to before the first settlement. A large underground spring in the east hills feeds a web of ponds and streams throughout the island, replenished every year by the thaw.’

She skipped ahead, skimming the story of how the settlers had stumbled upon deep veins of pure silver. One family had taken charge of the new mine and growing trade, while another organized and built the town. According to records, a ring of scorched trees had surrounded a small inlet, the only clear path in the rocky waters surrounding the island, thus the name.

She tossed the book on the glass coffee table and stretched out on the plush white sofa, trying to ignore the bruises and scabs covering her well-toned legs; she adjusted her long skirt to cover them again. Miranda, one of her best friends, had assured her the chest was still waiting in her attic, full of the only things Lena had saved. She’d promised to send it as soon as Lena told her it was safe, that she’d finally gotten away from the woman who had ruined everything.

I’m not about to let that bitch take anything else from me. She snatched the book and stuffed it under the glossy pale wood end table, just as a set of keys jingled softly outside. The lock clicked, and the door swung open, an older, ash-blond beauty strutting in like it was the Paris catwalk.

“Oh, you’re still awake,” she murmured dismissively, staring at herself in her favorite blue compact. Lena’s glare grew icier as Kara dropped her matching purse on the tiny kitchen counter, blowing herself a kiss before she snapped the compact shut.

“How’d it go?” Lena asked flatly. Her stepmother had left that morning to sign the last of the paperwork for the house, putting an end to their month-long stint in the little apartment.

“Everything should be here tomorrow,” she grabbed her purse, tossing Lena a white paper bag as she headed for the bedroom. “And before I forget, I got you something.”

She shut the door and locked it; Lena’s mouth watered when she saw Sweet Tooth in pale pink frosting letters across the front of the bag. She ripped open the top and pulled out a chocolate donut sprinkled liberally with powdered sugar, a local specialty that had become one of her favorites. She took a large bite, licking at the sugar that stuck to her lips, moaning happily at the sweet tartness of fresh raspberry jam. That was the best part.

She fished the napkin from the bag and headed to the kitchen to clean herself up; it was almost impossible to eat those things neatly.

I should take care of the carpet before she’s done in there. She glanced at the closed door, sighing in relief when she heard running water. She could clean the apartment twice over in the time it took that witch to bathe. I don’t want to give her another reason to—

She swallowed hard, forcing the thought from her mind. She’d already spent enough time on it today, and there was still plenty else for her to worry about.