“The parents walked for maybe twenty minutes or so. By that stage, two of them who were surgeons had gone around and looked at all the burn victims, given them some relief. By this stage Vincent was on a stretcher. The doctors kept telling him that he needed to go to hospital, but it was like he was possessed, he was so angry. Anyway, they walked and I followed – they came to a small cabin. I noticed one of Parris’ symbols etched into the stone chimney. A meeting place known to all of them. They crowded inside, lighting lanterns that flickered in the windows and gave me a view of the proceedings. I crept up to the wall and hunched against the side of the cabin, beneath the open window. Vincent’s voice carried on the crisp breeze. He made no effort to temper his anger.
“Damon Delacorte had one arm in a sling. He used the other to wave his mobile phone around. He showed them a video the teachers sent him with Gloria Haynes, bound and held prisoner at the school. Mr. Haynes was in the cabin, but he kept yelling about extraterrestrials and a CIA conspiracy until someone punched him. They argued for a time about what to do. Someone suggested they leave Gloria to the teachers’ devices and walk away with what they had. The idea had some supporters, but Vincent had someone throw them out the door. ‘We’re going back for her, and they will regret crossing us.’ They agreed that their experiment had failed. That the students and staff at the school would need to be exterminated and new sacrifices found. There was a mention of nuclear weapons, and of assassins hired from Honduras. Vincent ordered each and every one of them to return to their homes and to call in every favor they had. Then he passed out and they called a helicopter to airlift him and the other burn victims to a hospital.” Deborah paused. “The Eldritch Club will bring down the full force of their empire on the school.”
“You know what?” I forced a smile through my aching mind. “Let them do that. Let them come at us with bombs and assassins and UFOs. We’ll be ready. Bring it the fuck on.”
Chapter Eighteen
Before I could drag a protesting Trey away from the dogs, Deborah laid a hand on my knee. “I’ve taken an indefinite leave from work, so I’m here as long as you need me. Sneak down and see me any time you wish, and text or call me with information.”
“I will.” I nodded to the box under my arm. “I’ll look after this.”
I still wasn’t quite able to thank her. That might come in time. I did give her a quick side hug.
Goodbye… aunt.
What strange words.
The sun was coming up as Trey and I trudged back through the forest. My thighs burned and the box of my mother’s things weighed a hundred pounds as we scrambled up the steep slopes and pulled ourselves over rocky outcrops. I complained loudly and bitterly, as was my right as a free woman. Trey smiled wryly as he dragged my wretched body up another rock face.
“Thanks.” My foot scuffed his satchel, and I winced as pain shot through my toe. “That thing must be killing your shoulders. Want me to carry it for a bit?”
Trey shook his head, his dark hair catching the moonlight – the edges tinged with crimson, like the piping on his uniform blazer. “No thanks. I don’t think I could bear the whining. Besides, I don’t like to be separated from it.”
“Fine. I hope you and your rock are happy together.”
His breath came out in ragged gasps. I thought again how odd it was that he was supposed to be dead and yet he could get out of breath.
But that was just it – Trey wasn’t dead, not really. The god gave him immortality, and Ms. West had buried him, but that did not a true Edimmu make. I was beginning to see just how insidious the Deadmistress’ lie was – she let the students create their own mythology about themselves to prevent them from discovering the truth.
Nerves pricked at my stomach, but not about Ms. West. I knew Trey wouldn’t let me get back to the school without trying to dig inside me. Sure enough, when we reached the outer edge of the school perimeter, he turned to face me, blocking my escape with his broad chest. “Hazel, we’ve got to talk about—”
I shook my head.
“Tough,” Trey growled. “We’ve dealt with a metric ton of shit over the last couple of days, but the only thing I care about is what my girl’s going through. You’ve stood up to a cosmic god and dealt with death without batting an eye, but Deborah tells you that you’re related and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. When you walk into the dorms tonight, Quinn and Ayaz will see something is wrong, too. You either talk about it with me and I’ll get them off your back, or you can deal with all three of us.”
I folded my arms. “It’s no big deal.”
“Bullshit.”
This is the problem with people caring about you. They won’t leave you the fuck alone.
I rolled my eyes and slumped in the dirt, setting down the box beside me. “Fine. Put down your stupid rock. I’ll talk, but you might not like what I say.”
Trey grunted as he set down the satchel. He slid his legs over the edge of the rocks, pressing his leg against mine. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I knew I should tell him to remove it, but right then I couldn’t bear the thought of losing his touch. I rested my head on his shoulder.
We were near the top of a ridge. Through a gap in the trees, the sun rose over the violent surf, painting the sky in streaks of red and pink. A bitter wind blew off the water, slamming into our faces. But with Trey’s arm around me, I didn’t feel cold.
It struck me how alike this moment was to all the times Dante and I had curled up in the treehouse behind my apartment block, smoking weed and watching the sunrise. How alike, and yet how completely different.
“I don’t trust Deborah,” I said. “I wish I did. I know she’s trying to help us, and she’s given us every reason so far that she’s on our side. I believe what she says about my mother… that they’re sisters. That we’re family. But...”
“You don’t trust easily.” Trey pressed his lips to my hair. With my thick dreads gone, I felt his lips through my short, feathery layers. “I had to carve that stupid rock out and come after you for you to trust me, and I’m not even sure you do yet.”
“Right.” I stared at my hands. “But you get it. You don’t trust easily, either. Being joined by blood means shit and you know it.”
Trey didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to – his hatred of his father rolled off him, as violent as the waves crashing against the rocks below.
“Maybe family is what you make of it,” he said finally. “You. Me. Quinn. Ayaz. The other riffraff you’ve collected. Look at what you’ve built in the short time you’ve been at school – a group of people who never would have been friends all looking out for each other. That’s what family is.”
