“Her name is Maeve.” I liked the feel of it in my mouth.
“She’s not one of us.” His voice was tight.
I nodded slowly. “I got the same feeling.”
“Don’t forget it.”
“You talking to me or yourself?”
He flipped me off without turning his head, all the proof I needed that he was as intrigued by the new girl as I was.
Interesting.
17
MAEVE
I pulledup outside the old two-story house on the outskirts of town and turned off the car.
“Which one is it?” Poe asked from the passenger seat of the Honda.
“That one,” I said, tipping my head at the yellow clapboard house.
He studied it through the window and I tried to see what he saw: a neat little farmhouse that had been divided into two units long ago, the flower beds blooming with deep blue hydrangeas and delicate English roses, babied by Mrs. Carr, the widow who owned the building and lived in the front unit.
The walkway was laid with brick pavers and a cheerful flag flew from the porch, the wordWelcomeemblazoned over a field of sunflowers. The lawn had been recently trimmed, not a weed in sight.
“You live here with your parents?” Poe asked.
“No.” I wanted to shut down any conversation about my parents. They weren’t part of what I’d done by joining the Hunt. They weren’t part of anything I’d done since June’s murder. “With my roommate.”
I didn’t even want the three men who’d claimed me in the Hunt to know I lived with my best friend. Basically, I was just going to look at the next three months as a quiet little prison stint, one my friends and family didn’t need to know about.
I flipped down the visor and swore when I saw the blood streaked across my cheeks and forehead. It looked even worse than I’d imagined, liked I’d escaped from the set of a gory horror movie.
I couldnottalk to Bailey looking like this.
I opened the console and pulled out a pack of makeup remover wipes I kept in the car. I hated the way makeup felt on my face, and I always took mine off right after my shifts at Lushberry.
I scrubbed at the blood on my forehead with the first wipe, then used a second one for my cheeks while Poe watched from the passenger seat.
“Should I be offended that you’re in a hurry to remove our mark?”
“Depends.” I turned to look at him. “Do you want my roommate to call the police when I go in there?”
“Definitely not.”
“Then you want me to get this blood off my face.” I looked in the mirror, turning my head left and right to make sure I’d gotten it all. “What kind of sicko marks someone with their blood anyway?”
“Our kind.”
“Obviously.” I stuffed the used wipes into the cup holder in front of the console. “I’ll be back."
Poe reached for the handle on the passenger door.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Coming with you.”
