I hand him his card. Chase in the clearing. He takes it slowly and stands, and as the moon breaks through a veil of fog, he’s cast in an eerie pale blue light, mirroring Emily’s sketch. And it hits me what the tarot card is showing just as he looks up, the blood drained from his face.
“It’s me,” he says hoarsely.
“Right here. With your phone.”
He looks sick. “When did she draw this?”
I shudder. “Sometime before she died.”
He grabs my hand and yanks me to my feet. “Come on.”
I look up at him, alarmed. “What’s the matter?”
“We have to find Mila and Kennedy and get as far away from here as possible.” He stuffs the card into his pocket, and I slip the others into mine before he sees them and freaks out further.
“Can you please walk me through whatever is going on right now?”
He shakes his head as he pulls me rapidly through the trees, down into the thicker fog. “Stay close, okay? If you see Ryan again, shout.” He glances back at me over his shoulder. “I don’t know what he’s capable of. And I don’t want to know. But I promise you this—Ryan left these cards, not Emily. And they aren’t clues. They’re warnings.”