Forsaken (The Netherworlde Series) by Sara Reinke Page A

his forearms raise. I might have died at the hospital, but for all intents and purposes, this is it. This is where I was killed.
    Although he’d believed this was the alley in which Nemamiah had stabbed him, as he stood there, turning in a slow circle and looking at the pub building, backing up slightly, he realized he was wrong.
    It was different, he thought, his gaze traveling up past the rooftop parapet. As Nemamiah had shoved him back against the wall, Jason had looked beyond his shoulder. He remembered now. There had been a tower of some sort, something I could see just above the top of the nearest building.
    It had looked like a UFO, the stereotypical circa-1950s flying saucer mounted in the sky with spindly, graceful beams.
    The Space Needle, Jason thought, even though he’d only ever seen the landmark in pictures. In Seattle. I was looking at the Space Needle.
    Which made no sense. Between the moment when Nemamiah had stabbed him and when Jason had found himself standing outside Sully’s, little time had passed. Even though his own memories of that period were murky, the fact that his wound had still been fresh enough to bleed, and profusely at that, served as incontrovertible proof. Which meant I’m either remembering it wrong, or I was somehow stabbed in Seattle, he thought, a distance of more than 800 miles from where he was standing, a damn near thirteen-hour drive. How is that possible?
    It hurt his head to think about it, and besides, the cool, damp morning air had permeated his clothes. He was shivering again but found the back door to the bar locked when he tried to get inside. He left the alley, walking around the front of the building, past the contractors’ trucks for the main entrance.
    The door to the pub stood propped open, and a series of overlapping footprints cleaved paths through the dust and dirt on the floor. Jason heard muted voices as he stepped inside, but saw no signs of anyone.
    Last night, it had been dark in the building, but now, with sunlight streaming in through the doorway, Jason could see just how stark and dilapidated the bar had become. His shadow splayed out in front of him, an elongated smear bisecting the slash of sunbeam against the floor. If he closed his eyes, the empty room came to life around him in his imagination, not the last night he’d seen it open for business, but the first, his father’s grand-opening celebration, when everything inside had been clean and glossy and new.
    He’d been so proud, Jason thought. But when he opened his eyes, his happy memories melted abruptly away, dissolving into the stark, shadow-draped reality of what remained. He looked around the empty bar, the husk of what had once been his father’s dream.
    I’m sorry, Dad, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes stung with tears.
    He heard footsteps behind him, then the guttural sound of Barton growling.
    “Oh, no, you don’t.” Sam jerked hard against the dog’s leash as she led it out of the kitchen. Two men accompanied her, both in jumpsuits and wearing laden tool belts, carrying clipboards and flashlights.
    “What’s gotten into you, Barton?” Sam scolded; then her gaze cut across the room and she saw Jason. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “Hey. Good morning.”
    While the two men continued outside without her, walking past Jason with brief nods and muttered greetings, she lingered behind, grasping the leash in both hands as Barton strained against it, snarling at Jason.
    The dog was afraid of him. Just as Jason had realized this, seemed to sense it somehow with Dean the night before, he sensed it now. It was something nearly palpable to him, a cold chill that shimmied down the length of his spine and spread from there, seeping out to envelop his entire body. He stared at Barton, his entire body rigid, his breath suddenly bated. Because he didn’t immediately avert his gaze, he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or not, but it seemed as if out of his