We never actually went into the tower. That’s where his dad worked, and where mine did too, the janitor on the tech floor that Bob Nelson headed.
Neither of us wanted our parents to know about us, especially not Quill, I guess. But we often met in the looming shadow of the tower, then wandered off into the snaking back alleys that always seemed plunged in darkness, no matter how sunny it was outside, and where our secret was safe.
I look up at the tower, gritting my teeth.
It wasn’t a suicide pact, because Dad didn’t know. It wasn’t a murder-suicide, because Dad wouldn’t do that to us. Tome.
They didn’t end their lives. Someone ended it for them. And that person is Quill Nelson.
My eyes blur with angry tears as I stare at the tower, hesitating. I’ve never felt so powerless before. That tower is a monster, far greater than the nightmare that burst into my subconsciousness last night. It’s a monster because it’s all powerful, and I’m nothing.
What did Devil Tower make Quill do?
He was already working for them when we were together. He had a gun, and I’d overheard enough conversations between himand his dad to realize what working for Devil meant.
He was one of their soldiers, a secret army that Devil formed. Kids they train in high school, who then go kill their enemies. All so the leaders don’t get their hands dirty.
The leaders.
Damien Wells, Everest Grant, Vincent Murilla, Igor Fars… Logan Colt.
I swallow as I remember Dad’s last words.Do you know Logan Colt?
You can’t live in a 100-mile radius of Astley without knowing of him. I eye the building, a sense of foreboding pushing down on me.
I know Quill is working for Devil. But what if he’s working directly for their leaders?
What did they make him do?
Somehow I latch onto the hope that Quill isn’t entirely responsible. That he didn’t decide, of his own free will, to end my parents’ life. Surely, he can’t be that cruel. Right?
But in the back of my head pricks the knowledge that he can be. That he is.
Didn’t he abandon me when I needed him most?
Bitterness strangles my throat as I stare up at the looming tower. Fuck Quill. Fuck Jones. Fuck all of them. I’m going to find answers, even if I die in the process. I’m going to enter Devil Tower.
Anger surging through my veins, I take a step forward.
Suddenly I feel the weight of a hand slap against my chest. It’s so sudden and so violent that I lose my breath, but whoever it is doesn’t wait for me to gain it again. A band of steel encircles my waist, and I feel myself getting tugged backward, dragged into one of the back alleys I know so well.
I’m so shocked I don’t even think to cry out. Not that anyone would care. The few people who are braving the cold, drearyweather and walking around the business section by foot, have their heads stuffed in scarves and collars, earbuds and muffs on their ears.
They’d never hear me over the howling wind.
Anyway, who would help Piper Day?
I’m shoved against a wall, my body slamming against the cold brick surface. Fuck, that hurt. I nearly sink to my knees, wheezing from the smack of the hand on my chest followed so quickly by the hard shove against the wall.
It takes me about fifteen seconds to realize just how incapable I am of defending myself. A full minute more to even think to look up at my attacker.
And then, I freeze.
Standing before me is the creature of my nightmares. The apparition with the blank white face, fabric pulled tight all around it. Though now, in the brightness of the day, I recognize it’s a hoodie.
Memories of that horrible nightmare come rushing back. I guess I had been so convinced it was only a dream that I’d buried it into a corner of my subconscious. I hadn’t even given it another thought upon waking up.
But now, the monster is here. A few steps away from me. With a gun pointed at my head.
