“I’m a fast healer,” he said softly. He looked at her lips briefly then smiled proudly as he straightened up.
“Oh,” she breathed. But then she blinked. “Wait, how is that possible? You had—”
“It was nothing, now go on.” His tone was stern, but then his face softened. He patted her bum and pointed at the bathroom.
She opened her mouth to protest, but the fight in her was long gone. And seeing the patience evaporate from his face again, she bowed her head, ambleddown the hall, and hopped in the shower. He obviously wasn’t in the mood for questions, and she wasn’t about to push it. The last thing she wanted was for him to get annoyed and leave. She’d just ask him later.
The blast of hot water beating against her head felt divine, and she felt safe closing her eyes and letting the shower’s thunder fill her ears, knowing Fin was standing guard.
Steam was a funny thing. It had a way of evaporating all of her worries. As long as she escaped the shower before the steam re-settled, she could leave those worries to condense on the walls and trickle down the drain. That’s why she always got out of the shower before she turned it off, which made a mess of the floor. It drove Holly insane, because she always seemed to find a puddle of water—and with a socked foot.
Hailey smiled, thinking of all the soggy socks she’d seen Holly peel off while barking Hailey’s name out in two curt syllables. Wrapping her arms across her stomach, she pushed the ache from her belly. Oh, how she missed her big sister!
A door slammed inside the townhouse, and Hailey jumped. She cut the water off and stood soaked and slightly soapy inside the tub as she pulled the curtain back, listening.
“Fin?” she called, trying to hear over the drip, drip, drip of the shower head.
Dammit. Answer me. She shuddered as chilliness crept into the shower and chased her steam away, leaving her worries to settle on her back, two heavy, hairy-legged tarantulas creeping across her shoulders.
“Fin!” she called again. “Uncle Pix?”
Hailey grabbed Holly’s towel from the rack, swatted her shoulders with it then wrapped it under her arms, tip-toed to the door, and cracked it open.
“Fin?” He should have heard that.
Opening the door enough to poke her head out, she looked down the hall, but all she saw was stillness. All she heard was silence. No kettle noise from the stove. No shadows moving on the wall. The house seemed hollow.
He went outside to get something from his car, she decided, and she traded her towel for her fluffy pink robe, tying it around her waist as she jogged into the entryway and peeked out the front window.
His car was gone! He’d left her!
Heading for the phone, she found two teacups on the kitchen counter, but the kettle sat half empty under the faucet in the sink. Obviously, he’d meant to stay and must’ve left in a hurry to move his car or fetch something quick. He must’ve figured he’d be back before Hailey was out of the shower. That was the only explanation for leaving without a word, and she could watch for him from the balcony on the second floor, which was precisely what she intended to do.
She’d give him three kinds of hell when he got back, she thought as she climbed the stairs and headed to the balcony.
Echoing her frustration, the neighbor’s dog snarled then barked, just as the air on the balcony grew cold. Like icy fingers, the night air weaved through her hair, sending a chill straight to her core. But it wasn’t uncomfortable enough to chase her back inside. She knelt in front of the railing, sat on her feet, and pressed her forehead against the bars, watching the road in both directions. Several minutes passed, and Hailey’s exhaustion betrayed her resilience, squeezing her throat and hollowing out her stomach.
Just let go, she heard herself think.Just let go, and let the darkness come. Why stay here when they’ve all gone?
Holly is dead. Pádraig is gone. Nobody cares…
Pádraig. She never called Fin by his real name…never called him “Pádraig.” Clenching the iron bars of the railing in tight fists, she sobbed hard, throat aching as the image of a noose flipped through her mind like a cartoon, complete with instructions on how to tie one.
These thoughts weren’t hers—
Subtle, she fired back at it in her head, but despair washed over her anyway.
“Holly,” she sobbed, and she folded her hands, praying to God for strength but hoping for a miracle.
Just as she squeezed her eyes shut, she felt the air grow dense. She felthimapproach—the kind Envoy, the one she trusted. He chased the intruder out of her mind, and Hailey’s thoughts were once again her own.
The kind Envoy stood on the balcony behind her— his proximity raising the hair on her back. But she couldn’t bear to look at him. She re-gripped the iron rails, staring defiantly at the road, which looked distorted through her tears.
“Is Holly okay?” she squeaked.
“No,” he said, stoically.
“Didyou—kill her?” Her sobs broke her accusation in half.
