Sept. 28, 2025

Halloween Possession - Episode 1 - "The Static Between Us"

Halloween Possession - Episode 1 - "The Static Between Us"

True crime podcaster Mara Chen arrives in Salem to investigate three October disappearances, but when she meets Ethan Blackwood, she discovers the impossible - she can hear the electromagnetic echoes of the missing women. As an undeniable attraction builds between them, Mara learns she might possess the very ability that makes women targets. With her sister Lily arriving and showing similar symptoms, Mara must decide if the dangerous pull she feels toward Ethan is supernatural recognition or genuine desire, all while something that hunts their kind awakens for October.

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Caloroga Shark Media.

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Hello and welcome to Romance Weekly and Halloween Possession. This

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is episode one, the Static between Us.

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I should tell you right now that I don't believe

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in love at first sight. I'm thirty two, divorced, and

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I investigate disappearances for my true crime podcast. I know

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what happens to women who lose themselves in men. But

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October changed everything, and it started with something as simple

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as static electricity. Have you ever touched someone and felt

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the sh shock travel somewhere? It shouldn't, not just your finger,

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but deeper. That's what happened when Ethan handed me the

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keys to the Victorian house on Essex Street. Our fingers

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brushed just barely, and I felt it in my chest,

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behind my ribs, like my heart was a radio suddenly

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finding a station it didn't know existed. I pulled my

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hand back, of course, made some joke about the dry

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October air, but he was looking at me with these

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dark eyes. God, why do they always have dark eyes?

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And I knew he'd felt it too, that impossible electricity,

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that recognition of something you can't name. You'll hear about

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the missing women, he said, not a question. His voice

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did something to my spine, like fingertips trailing down vertebrae.

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I told myself it was just because I was tired

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from the drive from New York. I told myself a

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lot of things that turned out to be lies. Let

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me back up. I'm Mara Chen and my podcast, Vanished Voices,

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has two million subscribers who trust me to find the

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truth about missing women. Three days ago, I arrived in

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Salem to investigate a pattern. Three women, three Octobers, three disappearances.

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The police say there's no connection, but I've built a

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career on finding patterns that men in uniform miss. The

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Victorian House was my starting point. The last missing woman,

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Rebecca Torres, had toured it the day she vanished. The

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Salem Halloween Festival runs historic tours all October, and Ethan

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Blackwood manages the properties. I'd expected some aging history buff Instead,

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I got six feet of lean muscle in a charcoal henley,

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with carpenter's hands and a voice that made me forget

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my first question. The house gets to some people, he

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was saying, leading me up the narrow stairs. I was

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trying to focus on his words, not the way his

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genes fit or how he smelled like cedar and coffee

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and something else, something like rain before lightning strikes, especially

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sensitive types. You're not sensitive, are you? The way he

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said sensitive made me flush, like it was something intimate,

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something he could tell about me just by looking. I'm

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a journalist, I said, my professional voice, a little too sharp,

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ideal in facts. He turned on the landing, and suddenly

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we were too close, in that narrow space. I could

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see the gold flex in his brown eyes, could feel

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the heat coming off his body, the cool October afternoon facts,

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he repeated, and his mouth did something that wasn't quite

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a smile.

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Right.

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My phone buzzed, Lily, my sister's timing has always been catastrophic.

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Can I crash with you for a few days? Derek

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and I had done for real this time. I stepped

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back from ethan thumb flying over my screen. Lily lived

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in Boston, only forty minutes away, but she might as

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well have asked to stay with me on Mars. I

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was here to work, not to nurse her through another

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breakup with her toxic on again, off again boyfriend. I'm

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in Salem for work, staying at the Hawthorn Inn. Perfect.

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I'll drive up tonight. I need to get away from everything.

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I looked up to find Ethan watching me, head tilt,

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said slightly, like he was listening to something only he

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could hear. Sister, He asked, how did you I stopped.

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My expression must have given it away. That's all She's

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coming to visit during Halloween's season in Salem. He turned

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and continued up the stairs. She must be running from

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something pretty bad. Rebecca Torres had stood in this same

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hallway a year ago. I tried to focus on that,

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on why I was here, but my body was betraying

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me with every step. Each time Ethan moved, I caught

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another angle of him, the stretch of fabric across his shoulders,

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the way his hair curled slightly at his neck. I

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was acutely aware of my own body in a way

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that made me angry. The weight of my breasts under

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my sweater, the sensitivity of my skin, the heat pooling

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low in my belly. This is exactly what I'd promised

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myself wouldn't happen again after my divorce. No more losing myself,

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no more men who made me forget my own name.

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This is where she was last seen, Ethan said, opening

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a door to a small bedroom, the tour guide said,

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Rebecca seemed fascinated by this room, stayed behind when the

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group moved on. The room was perfectly preserved, victorian rose, wallpaper,

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brass bed, heavy velvet curtains. But something else was here too.

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The air felt charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm.

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The hairs on my arms stood up. Do you feel that,

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I asked, before I could stop myself. Ethan stepped closer,

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too close. Feel what the electricity? The static? Maybe, he said, quietly,

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more sensitive than you think. Our eyes met, and suddenly

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I could hear something impossible, a woman's voice, faint and desperate,

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like a radio signal from very far away. Help me, please, someone,

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help me. I gasped and stumbled backward. Ethan's hand shot

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out to steady me, gripping my elbow, and the moment

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his skin touched mine through my sweater, the voice became

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clear as a bell. He's coming back. October brings him back.

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Don't let him find the others like us. You heard her,

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Ethan said, It wasn't a question. His hand was still

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on my arm, and where he touched me, my skin

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felt like it was dissolving into pure energy. You heard, Rebecca.

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I jerked away from him, my heart hammering, that's not

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that's not possible. You investigate missing women, don't you want

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to know what happened to her? I want to know

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why you're not surprised, I shot back, Why you're acting

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like hearing voices is normal. He leaned against the doorframe,

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blocking my exit without seeming to This close, I could

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see the pulse in his throat steady where mine was racing.

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Because I've been hearing them since the first woman disappeared

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three years ago, and because I've been waiting for someone

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else who could hear them too. My logical brain was

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screaming at me to leave. This was crazy trauma response,

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auditory hallucinations, something. But my body wouldn't move. Every cell

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felt oriented toward him, like he was magnetic north. Why

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I managed, because whatever took them gets stronger in October,

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and because he paused, his eyes dropping to my mouth

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for just a second. I think it it hunts people

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like us, people like us. The words hung between us,

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intimate as a confession. My phone rang lily again. Mara,

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I'm an hour out. You have to promise not to

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judge me, but I think there's something wrong with me

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like medically wrong. I keep shocking everything. My laptop died,

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my phone keeps glitching, and Derek said kissing me felt

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like licking a battery. I looked at Ethan, who was

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watching me with those dark, knowing eyes. Just get here safe,

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I told her, we'll figure it out. When I hung up,

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Ethan said, your sister too. Two. I laughed, but it

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came out shaky. I don't even know what this is. This.

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He pushed off from the door frame and moved toward me,

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slow and deliberate. My body responded immediately, nipples tightening, breath

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catching that liquid heat spreading through me like honey or this.

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He raised his hand, not touching me, just holding it

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an inch from my cheek. The air between us crackled,

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and I could feel him, not his hand, but him.

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His desire hit me like a physical thing, making me gasp.

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It was overwhelming, invasive, intoxicating. I could feel what he

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wanted to do to me, could feel his struggle for control,

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could feel the way I affected him or without a

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single touch. Stop, I whispered, but I didn't step back.

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I'm not doing anything, he said, and his voice was rougher.

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Now that's all you bullshit. But even as I said it,

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I knew he was right. I was the one leaning

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toward him, drawn like a moth to flame. I was

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the one whose body was singing with want. He dropped

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his hand, stepped back, and the loss of that almost

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touch left me aching. There's a pattern, he said, or business.

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Suddenly the missing women all had this ability. They could

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feel things others couldn't. Electromagnetic fields, people's emotions, echoes of

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the past, and in October, when the veil is thin,

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that's an old Salem expression. Something notices them. You're telling

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me there's a what a monster that hunts psychic women.

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I'm telling you that Rebecca Torres could do what you

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just did. So could Emma Martinez the year before, and

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Sarah Kim the year before that. His jaw tied, and

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they're all gone. My investigative instincts finally kicked in, overriding

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my body's confusion. How do you know all this? Because

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my family has been in Salem for three hundred years.

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We've seen this before. My grandmother called it the October hollow,

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something that feeds on people with our particular sensitivity. He

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met my eyes and because I tried to warn Rebecca.

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She didn't believe me either. You knew her. Something flickered

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across his face, guilt, pain, something deeper. She was drawn

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to me the same way you are. It's not real attraction.

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It's electromagnetic resonance, our abilities recognizing each other. The words

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stung more than they should have. So this feeling is

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just what physics? No, he moved closer again, and my

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traitor's body responded instantly. The poll is physics. What we

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do about it, that's choice. And Mara, the way he

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said my name made my insides clench. I'm trying very

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hard to make the right choice here, which is to

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keep you alive through October. My phone buzzed, Lily fifteen

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minutes out and Mara, there's someone following me. They've been

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behind me since I left Boston. The temperature in the

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room seemed to drop. Ethan pulled out his phone, typed

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something quickly, tell her to come straight to the Witch Museum.

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It's public, well lit. I'll meet you both there. Why

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would you Because if your sister has the same ability,

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she's already being hunted. And because he paused at the door,

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not looking back, I couldn't save the others. Maybe this

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time will be different. He left me standing in that

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charged room, my body still humming from his almost touch,

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Rebecca's voice echoing in my mind. I looked around the

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perfectly preserved Victorian bedroom and wondered which of us would

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be the next to disappear. My reflection in the antique

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mirror looked flushed, pupils, dilated, like I'd been thoroughly kissed

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instead of just nearly touched. This was exactly what I'd

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sworn wouldn't happen. No more dangerous men, no more losing control.

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But as I headed for my car to meet Lily,

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I could still feel Ethan's presence on my skin like static,

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and I knew I was already lost. The only question

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was whether I'd survive October. To regret it, I should

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have left Salem that night, packed up Lily, and driven

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back to New York, where things made sense, where touch

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was just touch, and October was just a month. Instead,

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I drove toward the Witch Museum, toward my sister, toward him,

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toward whatever was hunting women like us. The radio in

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my rental car burst into static as I turned onto

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Essex Street. Through the white noise, I could have sworn.

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I heard Rebecca's voice again, stronger this time. He makes

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you feel alive, so you don't notice you're dying. I

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turned the radio off, but the warning was already under

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my skin, mixing with the want that wouldn't let me go.

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Three women had disappeared in October. As I pulled into

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the museum parking lot and saw Ethan waiting under the

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street light, beautiful and dangerous and impossible, I had the

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terrible certainty that if I wasn't careful, I'd be the fourth.

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But when he looked up and our eyes met through

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the windshield, that electromagnetic pull sang through my bones like

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a siren's call. My body didn't care about danger. It

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only knew that he was the answer to a question

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I'd never known to ask. I was in so much trouble,

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and October had just begun.