The Lost Sister by Megan Kelley Hall Page A

podium that held information pamphlets about the historic mansion and rooted around through the various office supplies until she found a pair of scissors. Standing before the mirror in the bathroom, she proceeded to cut the rest of her beautiful red curls—what was left of them—to chin-length. With each cut, she felt any lingering ties to Hawthorne being snapped, falling away from her and setting her free. She quickly brushed the hair into a garbage pail. She was free to start over. The old Cordelia was gone. She would be reborn somewhere else—somewhere far from Hawthorne.
    Even though it was cut short, her trademark shock of red hair would still give her identity away, so she tucked it under the baseball cap and headed outside, out of town, out of life as she knew it. The streets were quiet and deserted in the early morning hours. She felt more at ease once she had crossed the town lines into Salem. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but the more distance she put between herself and Hawthorne, the better.
    Now that Halloween was over, the ongoing party that took place in Salem had died down dramatically, the Halloween decorations soon to be replaced with Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations.
    As she walked through Salem, she could feel the presence of spirits all around her. They were returning after their long escape during the month of October. She knew what it felt like to be hunted and she felt sorry for the spirits that were trying to peacefully coexist with the living during the crazy festivities. Walking through the deserted streets, she could tell she was being watched. It didn’t bother her if the dead were watching her; it was the living that she was trying to avoid.
    Suddenly a pair of yellow eyes met her in the darkness. She stepped back in shock, trying to catch her breath. Usually spirits weren’t so bold with her. They made their presence known subtly, taking care not to spook her, so to speak. After a few minutes, she realized that it was an animal watching her. Just a dog, she thought, chiding herself for being so jumpy. It wasn’t until she got closer that she realized it wasn’t a dog at all. The yellow eyes and the massive gray head gave it away. It was a wolf—a wolf lying on a nest of hay in the back of a truck.
    Cordelia paced slowly over to the truck to see if it was still warm. It was parked out in front of a tavern that was supposed to close at the same time as the rest of the bars, but occasionally and for a few special customers would stay open. What would a wolf be doing in the back of a truck? she thought.
    It was then that she remembered hearing about Wolf Hollow, a place farther up the North Shore in Ipswich that was a nonprofit place that cared for wolves.
    “Hey there,” she said quietly to the majestic animal in the cage. “You don’t look that scary to me.”
    The wolf bowed its head down and peered up at her. It was the look of submission. She blew on her hands, which felt like blocks of ice. Suddenly an idea sprang into her mind. If she could stow away in this truck, she could get as far as Ipswich. And from there, she could hitchhike. She’d be far enough away from Salem and Hawthorne that people wouldn’t recognize her and she would be able to save some money to live on until she got settled somewhere.
    “You wouldn’t mind me curling up next to you for a little while, would you, buddy?” Cordelia whispered through the cage. The wolf made a little whining sound, almost like a puppy. Fear pumped through her chest for a moment, but she pushed it aside because she knew that she needed to get out of town as soon as possible.
    The latch on the cage came open easily. The driver must have assumed that most people wouldn’t let a wolf out of its cage. However, Cordelia wasn’t most people. She counted to three and then jumped into the back of the truck and spoke in a soft tone to the wolf.
    “Easy, boy, easy,” she cooed. “I’m just going to be your stowaway for