What the fuck was that?
Maybe ice, dropping from the trees above us?
Probably not an insect, not in this weather.
We’re silent a moment, then Faust says, “I don’t see anything,” a whisper against my ear as he holds me close.
“Probably snow,” I say, because I need him to agree.
He doesn’t for too long, until he finally does.
“Yes,” he says, but there’s tension in his tone. “Probably snow.” Then he kisses the top of my head, and I wonder if we’re alone at all.
FORTY-ONE
NEVE
“Did you do it?”
The question I asked Sylvan last night, before Faust met me at Afterlife.
I needed to tell him Sylvan saw me the night the latest victim—Mitchell—died. I needed to tell him I had called Sylvan myself and asked him straight up if he did it.
I only told him one of those things.
Now, head down, fur-lined hood up, matte black duffel bag on my shoulder and hands jammed into my pockets, one clenched tight around my phone, I know I should have told him everything.
But when I glance over my shoulder to see the winding road dusted with snow that leads to his castle, Faust sleeping in a cavernous, darkened bedroom, unaware I snuck away—or maybe he suspected I would, the way I eyed the alarm code he put in on his security system last night so I could break free without waking him up—I know it’s too late.
I’m not going back.
It’s Halloween morning, and Drayton is celebrating.
I need to clear my head.
When I reach the brick walkway that’s officially part of campus, I pass spider webs in trees and skeletons having picnics, artfully set up over top black and red striped blankets, pinned down with bricks so they don’t blow away in the late-autumn winds and gusts of occasional snow.
I glance at the library, pumpkins on either side of the stone columns, and a chill runs down my spine. I never saw Will’s body, still don’t know his cause of death, but what once felt like a sanctuary now feels like a mausoleum.
Even so, I decide to take the narrow pathway between House Memorial and the science lab. It’s another brick walkway and it shaves five minutes off the rest of my walk back to Cathedral Street.
I need to talk to Cyn, I need to rest before the poetry workshop—if I decide to go—and yeah, maybe I need to eat, too.
The alleyway is empty, the parking lot dead ahead scattered with cars, and the sidewalk that’ll lead me straight to my street is sprinkled with salt in case more snow falls for Halloween tonight.
I miss parts of what it used to be for me and Nolan.
Mom made our costumes—pantyhose, toilet paper rolls, toothpicks—whatever it took to get it just right and save money while she did it. All three of us would cheer and laugh every time we scored a house with full-size chocolate bars. But there was a dark side too, wasn’t there? One I never examined until now.
Nolan picking through my candy. Taking away nearly everything. I watched the shiny bars like stolen gold, and I did nothing to save my earnings.
Mom never knew. Nolan was always careful like that.
I ignore the pang in my chest, thinking of Mom. How nice it would be if I still had her to talk to. But Marty didn’t want us, and she agreed to give him all of her time, resources, attention,easily quitting on us because we were old enough to take care of ourselves.
Marty flat-out told her I could go to university, move out, or live on the street which was all essentially the same to him: Me, out of her hair.
Sometimes I think I’m a baby about it. Yeah, I was old enough to leave. And it all worked out, didn’t it? I’m here, mostly happy. She’s there, probably taken care of.
