Those Aren’t S’mores You’re Roasting

The taunting began the moment Tomas and Courtney stepped away from the truck.

Headlights from parked cars carved crooked paths through the trees. Shadows twisted across the ground beside them.

“Poor Bookbag Boy,” someone called. “Ain’t got his bookbag anymore.”

“Yeah, but he brought a girl.”

“How’d he pull that off?”

“She’s from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Kid’s terminal.”

Laughter rolled through the clearing.

Before leaving the truck, Tomas had given Bryce’s burner phone to Courtney. She carried it inside her jacket now, where Bryce’s friends wouldn’t find it if they searched him.

Tomas hoped.

Riker appeared from behind them and wrapped both arms around Courtney’s waist.

“Seriously,” he said, grinning at Tomas, “how’d you end up with Muppet Boy?”

Courtney drove an elbow into Riker’s ribs.

He grunted and stumbled backward.

The crowd hooted.

“Careful, Riker. She’s feisty.”

Riker clutched his side. “Crazy bitch.”

Courtney faced him. “Touch me again.”

Something in her voice made him reconsider.

Across the fire, Bryce balanced on a fallen log like it was a stage. A girl clung to each arm while he soaked in the attention.

When he saw Tomas, his smile widened.

“Hold up.”

Someone lowered the music.

The heavy bass faded to a quiet thump.

The crowd turned.

Bryce jumped from the log and approached Tomas with both arms spread.

“You made it.”

“Where’s Red?”

Bryce cupped one hand to his ear. “Who?”

“My bookbag.”

“That’s no way to talk about your best friend.”

“Give him back.”

Bryce stopped in front of Tomas.

“You bring what you stole?”

“You get the phone when Red is safe.”

A murmur passed through the crowd.

Bryce’s smile remained, but the skin around it tightened.

“That isn’t how this works.”

“It’s how it works tonight.”

Several students made impressed sounds.

Bryce leaned close enough for Tomas to smell beer and smoke on his breath.

“You break into my house, trash my bedroom and steal my property. Then you come out here making demands?”

“I didn’t trash your room.”

“You smashed my trophy.”

“It fell.”

“Into the floor?”

“Gravity’s unpredictable.”

Courtney made a sound that might have been a laugh.

Bryce looked toward her.

“You think he’s funny?”

“Funnier than you.”

His gaze traveled down her body and back up.

Bryce reached beneath her chin.

Courtney slapped his hand away.

Tomas shoved him.

Bryce staggered backward with his arms raised.

The crowd erupted.

“Whoa,” Bryce said. “Guess I found the limit.”

“You didn’t find anything,” Tomas said.

Bryce looked at him for several seconds.

Human anger flashed across his face.

Nothing supernatural.

Nothing borrowed from the Collector.

Bryce hated him all by himself.

Then the performer returned.

Bryce turned toward the crowd.

“You may be wondering why I invited everyone out here tonight.”

“To drink!”

“To party!”

“To watch Riker get rejected!”

Laughter broke across the clearing.

Riker flexed both arms as if that helped.

Bryce raised his hands.

“We’re here because a great injustice has been done.”

The students offered a long, mocking chorus.

“Awwww.”

“Someone broke into my house,” Bryce continued. “Went through my bedroom and stole something that didn’t belong to him.”

His gaze settled on Tomas.

“And that someone is here tonight.”

Riker shoved Tomas between the shoulder blades.

Boos rolled through the crowd.

A crushed drink can struck Tomas’s arm. Another landed near his feet.

Bryce slipped one arm around Tomas’s shoulders.

Tomas tried to pull away, but Riker caught the back of his jacket.

“Everyone knows I’m not vindictive,” Bryce said.

Several people laughed.

“I don’t hold grudges.”

More laughter.

“But I believe in justice.”

“Then call the police,” Courtney said.

Bryce wagged one finger at her.

“Never interrupt the show.”

He nodded toward three boys waiting beside the trees.

“There’s a lesson here.”

One boy pulled a rope tied around a trunk.

A pulley creaked overhead.

Something descended from the darkness.

Red.

The bookbag swayed at the end of the rope, bound by both straps. His bottom edge hung several feet above the bonfire.

The boys lowered him.

One foot.

Then another.

Heat rising from the fire rippled through the canvas.

Tomas lunged forward.

Riker pulled him back.

“Red!”

The bookbag turned slowly above the flames.

No answer came.

The connection between Tomas and the stones remained distant, as if the Collector had never fully released the fold Tomas created.

“Red?”

One strap twitched.

That was all.

Bryce spread his arms.

“Tommy Boy, this is an intervention.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Tommy Boy.”

Riker started the chant.

“Tommy Boy. Tommy Boy.”

Others joined.

Soon dozens of voices shouted the name into the woods.

Bryce walked the circle, slapping backs and exchanging jokes. Every step drew the students tighter around him.

When he had absorbed enough attention, he raised both hands.

The chant died.

Red swayed above the fire.

Bryce returned to Tomas.

“You want your friend back?”

“Yes.”

“Phone first.”

“Red first.”

Bryce glanced toward Courtney. “She carrying it?”

Courtney smiled. “Search me and lose the arm.”

Riker took one step toward her.

Courtney looked at him.

He stopped.

Bryce shook his head.

“You two rehearsed this?”

“Give him back,” Tomas said.

“I’m willing to let everything go. You just have to do one thing.”

Bryce moved closer.

“Tell everyone the truth.”

“What truth?”

Bryce pointed toward Red.

“Tell them your imaginary friend isn’t real.”

The circle grew quiet.

“Tell them it’s only a bookbag,” Bryce continued. “Tell them it doesn’t talk.”

Tomas stared at him.

Bryce raised his voice.

“I see you every day, talking to that thing like it’s alive. Sitting in corners, muttering to yourself.”

Several students snickered.

Bryce addressed the crowd.

“Honestly, Tommy might be the best ventriloquist in the state. He could make a fortune with his hand inside a puppet’s—”

Laughter swept through the clearing.

“What do you care what he believes?” Courtney asked.

Bryce looked at her.

“Because when he talks to that bag, he starts thinking he’s special. He thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“No,” Tomas said. “That’s you.”

The crowd reacted.

Bryce continued as if Tomas hadn’t spoken.

“He starts thinking the rules don’t apply to him. Then he gets ideas.”

Bryce pointed toward Tomas.

“Ideas like breaking into someone’s home. Going through their bedroom. Stealing their property.”

He swept his hand toward the students.

“Today it was me. Tomorrow it might be one of you.”

A murmur passed through the crowd.

“You want to come home and discover Bookbag Boy went through your underwear drawer?”

“No!”

A drink can struck Tomas’s shoulder.

Another followed.

Tomas imagined grabbing Bryce by the collar and driving him into the dirt.

He imagined breaking Riker’s nose.

He imagined all the things he should have done in the locker room.

Then he remembered the phones.

The laughter.

Four boys surrounding him.

His hands remained at his sides.

Bryce stepped close enough that their foreheads touched.

“Tell them the bag doesn’t talk.”

Tomas looked up.

Flames snapped beneath Red.

One tongue of fire rose close enough to lick the bookbag’s bottom seam.

“No.”

Bryce smiled.

“Wrong answer.”

One of the boys loosened the rope.

Red dropped several inches.

Tomas strained against Riker’s grip.

“Stop.”

“Tell them.”

“Bryce—”

“Say it.”

Tomas looked at Red.

The bookbag rotated above the fire.

The strap moved again.

Reaching toward him.

Bryce leaned close.

“You think I didn’t know it was you in my house? We have cameras, idiot.”

He tapped his temple.

“I watched you squeeze through the dog door and run away like a scared rabbit.”

“Give Red back.”

“You owe me.”

Bryce cupped one hand around his ear.

“Say it.”

The crowd waited.

Tomas opened his mouth.

The words refused to come.

One of the boys lowered Red another few inches.

The canvas darkened from the heat.

Tomas forced the words out.

“Red isn’t real.”

Bryce smiled. “What was that?”

“He isn’t real.”

“And?”

Tomas stared at the bookbag.

“He can’t talk.”

“Louder.”

Tomas’s throat tightened.

“He isn’t real!” he shouted. “He can’t talk!”

The words felt like something tearing inside him.

Bryce applauded first.

Slow.

Deliberate.

“That’s my boy.”

He slapped Tomas hard on the back.

Then he pointed toward the boys holding the rope.

“Give him his bag.”

Tomas stepped forward.

The rope came loose.

Red dropped into the flames.

“No!”

Tomas tore free of Riker and ran.

Courtney screamed behind him.

Fire swallowed the bookbag.

Rose-colored light burst between Red’s zipper teeth.

Violet streaks threaded through it.

Tomas reached into the heat.

Before his hand touched the canvas, a shadow exploded from the trees.

It plunged through the bonfire and snatched Red from the flames.

Fire guttered beneath it.

The shadow crossed the clearing and landed beyond the crowd.

Something tall unfolded from the darkness.

Smoke rolled from its shoulders. Its body appeared less like flesh than a hole cut into the night.

Red hung from one enormous hand.

The crowd fell silent.

Several students backed away.

Others laughed nervously, waiting for someone to explain the trick.

Courtney moved beside Tomas.

“It’s the Collector.”

Bryce stared at the creature.

“What the hell is that?”

The Collector tilted its head.

“A witness,” it said.

Its voice moved through the ground instead of the air.

The students nearest it covered their ears.

The Collector lifted Red.

Rose and violet light pulsed inside the bag.

“Almost,” it whispered.

Tomas stepped forward.

“Give him back.”

The creature’s empty face turned toward Courtney.

“The Keeper came.”

Courtney planted her feet.

Then it looked at Tomas.

“The boy returned.”

Its fingers tightened around Red.

“And the stones continue to ripen.”

Bryce stumbled backward.

“I don’t know what kind of stunt this is, but—”

The Collector reached him before he finished.

One dark hand wrapped around Bryce’s throat and lifted him from the ground.

Bryce kicked helplessly.

The crowd scattered backward.

“You are not a prize,” the Collector told him.

Bryce clawed at its wrist.

“You are pressure.”

The Collector hurled him across the bonfire.

Bryce struck the ground beyond it. Fire clung briefly to his jacket before he rolled through the leaves and smothered it.

The Collector opened its chest.

Darkness split like torn fabric.

A swarm of black shapes poured out.

Wraiths shrieked into the clearing.

Teenagers ran.

Some screamed about bats. Others shouted that the fire had exploded. Students crashed into trees, tripped over logs and shoved one another aside.

A hundred people saw the impossible.

None of them agreed on what it was.

Tomas didn’t move.

The Collector still held Red.

Courtney caught his arm.

“Stay close.”

The creature turned toward them.

“Do you like my party?” it asked.

“You didn’t make this,” Tomas said.

“No.”

The Collector sounded pleased.

“That is what makes it beautiful.”

It gestured toward Bryce and the fleeing students.

“They made it themselves.”

Bryce crawled toward the trees.

The Collector caught his ankle and dragged him back.

“He humiliated you,” it told Tomas. “He struck you. Stripped you. Made others laugh while you suffered.”

Tomas’s stomach tightened.

“He would have burned what you love.”

The Collector pulled Bryce upright and slammed him against a tree.

Bryce cried out.

The creature pinned him with one hand.

With the other, it traced one claw across Bryce’s chest.

His shirt split.

A dark line appeared beneath it.

Bryce screamed.

The Collector carved another line.

Then another.

Black symbols formed across his skin.

Courtney pulled the repaired photographs from her jacket.

She looked between the fragments and Bryce’s chest.

“The missing marks,” she whispered.

“What?”

“The pieces Bryce tore away. It’s completing the claim on him.”

The Collector looked toward Tomas.

“You have imagined killing him.”

Tomas didn’t answer.

“I tasted it.”

The claw moved again.

Bryce’s scream broke into a whimper.

“Do nothing,” the Collector said. “Let me finish what you wanted.”

Courtney tightened her hand around Tomas’s arm.

“Don’t listen.”

“He deserves it,” Tomas whispered.

“Maybe.”

Tomas looked at her.

Courtney didn’t soften the answer.

“But if the Collector decides what your hatred permits, it owns part of you too.”

Across the clearing, Bryce met Tomas’s eyes.

For the first time since Tomas had known him, Bryce wasn’t performing.

He was terrified.

“Help me,” he pleaded.

Tomas remembered the locker room.

The cold water.

The photograph.

Red striking the metal lockers.

He looked toward the bookbag hanging from the Collector’s hand.

“I don’t know how.”

Courtney studied the repaired photographs again.

Then she looked at the fire.

“I was reading it backward.”

“What?”

“The fire doesn’t follow the claim.”

Bryce screamed as another line appeared.

“Fire breaks it,” Courtney said.

“You’re sure?”

“No.”

“That isn’t helpful.”

“It’s what I have.”

The Collector’s claw touched Bryce’s sternum.

The final symbol began to form.

Courtney shoved Tomas toward the bonfire.

“Do it.”

Tomas ran.

Riker crouched behind a fallen log nearby, pale and shaking.

Tomas lifted one finger to his lips.

Riker nodded.

Tomas crouched beside the fire and grabbed a burning branch from the edge.

Heat scorched his hands.

He circled behind the Collector.

The creature continued carving.

One step.

Then another.

Tomas raised the branch.

Riker shot upright.

“Bryce! Look out!”

Tomas froze.

The Collector turned slowly.

Riker pointed at Tomas. “He’s got fire.”

“You idiot,” Tomas said.

A jagged smile opened across the Collector’s face.

“I do enjoy betrayal.”

Courtney shouted from across the clearing.

“Now, Tomas!”

The Collector spread both arms, inviting him.

Tomas threw the burning branch.

It struck the creature in the chest.

The flames vanished inside its body.

Nothing happened.

Tomas stared.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Fire appeared beneath the Collector’s shadowed skin.

Thin lines at first.

Then fractures.

The creature looked down.

Its smile disappeared.

Violet light erupted from Red at the same moment.

The Collector’s body detonated.

A shockwave knocked Tomas backward.

Flames spiraled through the clearing. Burning leaves lifted into the air.

The wraiths collapsed into smoke.

Red tumbled from the Collector’s grip and hit the dirt.

Bryce fell beneath the tree.

The Collector’s body scattered in a thousand pieces of shadow.

Its voice lingered after the shape disappeared.

“Closer.”

Then the clearing went quiet.

Tomas crawled toward Red.

Smoke rose from the bookbag’s bottom seam.

“Red?”

No answer.

Tomas lifted him carefully.

A rose-colored glow remained inside, threaded with violet.

Courtney dropped beside him.

“The stones are alive.”

“Are they purple?”

“Not yet.”

“What happens when they are?”

Courtney looked toward the darkness where the Collector had vanished.

“We worry about that if we survive tonight.”

Bryce groaned near the tree.

Tomas looked at him.

Black symbols covered his chest.

Courtney stood.

“We have to remove the claim.”

“Why?”

“Because if it sets, the Collector can call him whenever it wants.”

Tomas hugged Red closer. “Sounds like Bryce’s problem.”

Courtney looked down at him.

The words echoed what Tomas had wanted to believe while the Collector hurt Bryce.

Then Bryce whimpered.

Not loudly.

No audience remained to impress.

Courtney held out her hand.

“Tomas.”

He gave her Red.

“Don’t drop him.”

“I’m a Keeper.”

“Tonight hasn’t inspired confidence.”

Tomas crossed to Bryce.

Bryce tried to move away.

“Stay back.”

“It marked you.”

“No kidding.”

“I can try to remove it.”

Bryce pressed one hand against his chest.

The black lines seemed to move beneath his skin.

“What did that thing do to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t touch me.”

Tomas crouched.

“You asked me to help.”

Bryce stared at him.

Blood ran from his temple. His face had lost all its practiced certainty.

“What are you going to do?”

“Wipe it off.”

Bryce looked down at the marks. “They’re cuts.”

“No. They’re a claim.”

“A what?”

Tomas pressed his palm against Bryce’s chest.

Bryce cried out and grabbed his wrist.

“Hold still.”

The connection to Red opened.

Energy rushed through Tomas.

Pain bloomed behind his eyes.

Violet light pulsed between his fingers.

To anyone watching, Tomas was only wiping blood from Bryce’s chest.

Beneath his palm, the black lines vanished.

One.

Then another.

Bryce stared.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

The final symbol resisted.

A hooked black line remained beneath the skin over Bryce’s sternum.

Tomas pushed harder.

Pain stabbed through his skull.

The line faded but didn’t disappear.

Tomas’s strength gave out.

He pulled his hand away.

Bryce immediately scratched at the mark.

“It itches.”

Courtney knelt beside them.

“Stop touching it.”

“What is it?”

“Part of the Collector’s claim.”

“Get it off.”

“We can’t.”

“You got the rest.”

“This part went deeper,” Tomas said.

Bryce stared at him.

Sirens sounded beyond the trees.

Courtney stood.

“I have to go.”

Tomas looked toward the road. “Those might be my mother’s people.”

“They aren’t.”

Red stirred in Courtney’s arms.

One strap tightened around her wrist.

Recognition.

Not complete.

Closer.

Courtney handed him back to Tomas.

“Your phone is safe.”

“Bryce’s phone.”

“Whatever you need to call it.”

“Don’t lose it.”

She looked almost offended.

“I protect things.”

Then she disappeared between the trees.

By the time Sheriff Rook entered the clearing, Courtney was gone.

Sheriff Rook stopped at the edge of the firelight with one hand resting on his duty belt.

His gaze traveled across the scattered teenagers, burning branches and smoking crater.

Then he saw Tomas kneeling beside Bryce with blood on one hand and a charred bookbag clutched against his chest.

Rook tipped back his hat.

“Well,” he said. “This ought to be interesting.”

Ambulance lights flashed through the trees.

Deputies separated students and took statements. No two stories matched.

Some said a flock of bats had poured from the fire.

Others described black smoke moving against the wind.

One girl insisted a shadow had picked Bryce up and thrown him.

Her friend said Bryce had fallen while drunk.

Three students saw Bryce’s friends suspend Red above the bonfire.

Five claimed Tomas had brought the rope.

Several remembered Tomas throwing a burning branch.

None agreed on what he had thrown it at.

Sheriff Rook listened until he found the story he preferred.

Bryce sat on the back step of an ambulance with a blanket around his shoulders. White gauze covered most of his chest.

His hand slipped beneath the bandages every few seconds to scratch the hooked mark that remained.

Rook rested one boot on the ambulance bumper.

“Start from the beginning.”

Bryce swallowed.

“Tomas stole one of my phones.”

Rook looked toward Tomas.

“That true?”

Tomas said nothing.

Bryce continued.

“He used it to send messages pretending to be me. Invited everyone out here for some kind of forgiveness party.”

“That isn’t what happened,” Tomas said.

Rook held up one hand.

“You’ll get your turn.”

Tomas knew better.

Bryce adjusted the blanket.

“He said he wanted to apologize for breaking into my house. I thought maybe he meant it.”

A student nearby laughed.

Rook glared until the sound stopped.

“Who brought the alcohol?” he asked.

Bryce pointed at Tomas.

“He did. Said his family could get anything.”

“That’s a lie.”

Rook ignored him.

“And the fire?”

“Tomas started talking about his bookbag. Spirits. Black magic.”

Bryce looked down at his bandaged chest.

“He hung it over the fire and said he was going to sacrifice it.”

“No,” someone called from behind the deputies. “Bryce hung the bag.”

Riker stood near a tree with dirt streaked across his face.

Bryce stared at him.

Riker looked away.

Sheriff Rook sighed.

“You’ve been drinking, son?”

Riker nodded.

“Then let the sober people talk.”

“There aren’t any sober people,” Tomas said.

Deputy Baker coughed into one hand to hide something dangerously close to a laugh.

Bryce continued.

“Tomas dropped the bag into the fire. Then he started throwing burning logs.”

“At you?” Rook asked.

Bryce touched the bandages on his chest.

“You saw what he did.”

Sheriff Rook had arrived after the Collector disappeared.

He had seen Tomas kneeling over Bryce. Seen the smoldering branch nearby. Seen the blood.

That was enough for him.

“What about the shadow?” Deputy Baker asked.

Bryce’s face tightened.

“What shadow?”

“Six students mentioned one.”

“Smoke,” Bryce said. “Everybody was drinking. Tomas got them worked up with all that ghost stuff.”

“Wraiths,” Tomas said before he could stop himself.

The deputies turned toward him.

Sheriff Rook studied him.

“Wraiths.”

Tomas swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Rook removed his hat and scratched his head.

“Well now. That’s interesting.”

Bryce pointed toward Tomas.

“Search him. He still has my phone.”

Deputy Baker approached.

“Stand up.”

Tomas rose.

Baker checked his pockets.

The yellow note.

Mr. Gramble’s screwdriver.

No phone.

Baker stepped back.

“He doesn’t have it.”

“He hid it,” Bryce said.

“Or you lost it,” Tomas replied.

Bryce’s hand moved beneath the blanket again.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

His eyes found Tomas.

For one moment, fear broke through the performance.

He knew the mark was still there.

He knew Tomas had made the others disappear.

Sheriff Rook nodded toward the patrol cars.

“Put Calder in mine.”

“Don’t I get to tell my side?”

“You can tell it at the station.”

“He’s lying.”

Deputy Baker took Tomas by the arm and led him toward the cruiser.

Quietly, he said, “His story doesn’t add up.”

“Then why arrest me?”

“Because yours is going to sound worse.”

Baker opened the rear door.

He placed Red beside Tomas instead of treating him like evidence.

Then he shut them inside.

Tomas waited until Deputy Baker walked away.

“Red?”

The bookbag remained still.

Tomas touched the scorched fabric.

“Please.”

Red’s zipper shifted.

I heard you.

Tomas closed his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it.”

I know.

The answer came quietly.

It still hurt.

Tomas pulled Red against his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

For which part?

“All of it. Leaving you. Shutting you out. Letting Bryce take you.”

Red’s strap curled around his arm.

Do not leave me alone again.

“I won’t.”

Do not shut me out.

“I won’t.”

And do not allow anyone to suspend me above a bonfire.

“That one wasn’t really my choice.”

Add it to the rules anyway.

Tomas laughed once.

Relief hurt almost as much as the headache.

“Are the stones purple?”

No.

“Courtney said they were closer.”

They are.

“What did the Collector want me to do?”

Let Bryce die.

“Why?”

It wasn’t testing your strength. It was testing what you would permit.

Tomas looked toward the ambulance.

Bryce scratched beneath the bandages again.

“I didn’t remove the whole claim.”

No.

“What does the part I missed do?”

Red was silent for a moment.

It will itch.

“That’s it?”

At first.

Tomas waited.

It will pull at him. Remind him of the Collector. Make it easier for the Collector to find him—and easier for Bryce to feel when it is near.

“Does it own him?”

Not completely.

“Can we remove it later?”

Maybe when the stones are whole.

The ambulance doors closed.

Before they did, Bryce looked across the clearing toward Tomas.

His hand remained pressed to his chest.

He had questions now.

Eventually, he would come looking for answers.

Sheriff Rook climbed into the driver’s seat.

Tomas glanced at the empty front passenger side.

Courtney had escaped.

Bryce’s burner phone remained with her.

Safe from the police.

Safe from Bryce.

For now.

Rook started the engine.

“That boy’s parents are going to sue the life out of your mother,” he said. “Was it worth it?”

Tomas looked out the window.

“And don’t worry about that girl of yours. We’ll find her. She’ll be sitting in a cell beside you before sunrise.”

Do you think Sheriff Rook kicks puppies when no one’s watching?

Tomas almost smiled.

Sheriff Rook looked at him in the rearview mirror.

“You think this is funny?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re in extreme trouble.”

He does, Red decided. Definitely a puppy kicker.

The cruiser rolled toward the park exit.

Behind them, the woods settled into darkness.

Smoke drifted low through the trees.

In the shallow crater beside the bonfire, one fragment of shadow pulled itself beneath the leaves.

The Collector was gone.

Temporarily.