Not Everybody's Going Home
Serena leaned over the fountain and gathered two candles, one for her and one for Brooke. She pulled out a lighter from her pocket. “Meet Lady Luck.” She pointed to the statue. “Legend says if you light a candle and let it float all your dreams come true— nightmares too.” Her voice lingered. She went ahead and lit her candle, let it float, and then turned to Brooke. “Go on,” she urged, handing her the lighter. There was something about Serena, Brooke's gut told her, something sinister. “Light the candle Carter!” she pressured. Something wicked. The flame changed: red, an adult male dies. “I knew it, you’re a corpse candle,” Serena admitted. Something trepid. “That’s how you knew about Peyton’s baby. Before this,” she noted the red flame, “it was black right.” That wasn’t a question. “How does it die— no wait! The red flame, who is it? Who’s dying next?” Something perilously emboldened.