You May Now Kill the Bride (Return to Fear Street Book 1)

I had to force myself to breathe. My head suddenly felt light, as if it could float away. The voices in the lobby faded from my ears, and all I could hear were my own racing heartbeats.

Himuro and the valet. That was them. Definitely them. In the photo—from 1924. I knew I had talked to them.

But of course it was totally impossible.

“Thank you,” I managed to say. I spun away from the reception desk and took a few unsteady steps across the lobby. My cousins were still sitting at a table near the back wall. They waved to me again, but I pretended I didn’t see them.

I have to get back to my parents, I thought. They must wonder where I’ve been all this time.

Could I tell them? Could I tell them the truth? Tell them I’d lost my mind? That I’d been seeing people from over ninety years ago?

No, I decided. If I tell them, it will only add to the confusion, add to everyone’s unhappiness. I wanted to shut myself in my room and just think. Try to figure this out. Try to make sense of this insane thing that happened to me.

This is a cursed place. Grandpa Bud’s words came back to me again. He knew the whole story of the Fear family wedding from 1924. But did he know more? Did he know more about this lodge and the curse than he had told me?

Maybe Grandpa Bud could help me make sense of it. Help convince me that I wasn’t going totally insane.

Then I thought: He is an old man. He’s frail. He must be seriously upset about Marissa’s disappearance. Would it be fair to add to his burden?

I didn’t know what to do. I only knew I had to get back to my family and see if there was any news about my sister.

So I made my way across the crowded, noisy lobby, trying to shut out everyone, shut out the voices, shut out the spinning thoughts inside my head.

And there he was in front of me.

“Ohmigod!” I uttered. I nearly tripped over my own shoes. There was Aiden walking toward the bar.

He had his back turned. He was only a few steps in front of me. I recognized the little black hat first, and then his blond hair sticking out over the back of his neck.

He wore a trench coat, and its belt was unfastened and trailed along the floor. He was taking long strides, and I had to run to catch up to him.

Breathing hard, I stepped up behind him and touched him on the shoulder.

He spun around—and I let out a startled cry.