Unknown
I need to see you soon or it will be very detrimental to everyone else.
But there’s another text, and it isn’t from him. A number I don’t have saved either, but the 919 area code tells me all I need to know, besides the fact I have it memorized.
Unknown
Be careful, Neve. I know you think I don’t care for you, but I love you. I’ve seen the news up there. Don’t go stay with your brother. If you need to, I’ll get you a flight here.
Don’t go stay with your brother.
I swallow hard just as Sylvan says my name in such a way, my heart twists.
Not like he’s angry.
Like he’s in pain.
“I’m here.” I force the words out. “I’m here.”
“He contacted you.”
Faust is silent in the background, but I can practically see them locking eyes with one another.
I slide off the bed, my feet clumsy on the floor as I try to gather my balance in the dark. Then I walk to the door, unlock it, and slowly, phone to my ear and breath held captive in my lungs, I pull it open.
Cool air glides over my bare thighs, then laces around my neck. It’s always chillier in the common areas when we have our doors closed at night, trapping the heat in.
Silence greets me. I blink a few times and from the soft light trailing in past the black blinds—Drayton never goes fully dark—I see Cynthia’s door is closed too, and further down the hall, ourentrance door is secure. The bookshelves watch me, the marble black bunnies seeming to hold their breath at my gaze.
“Tell me what he said.” Sylvan’s words are cold.
I stand in the doorway, my pulse pounding in my ears. But before I can answer him, my phone vibrates again.
Unknown
When you wake up, I’ll be there.
I swear I see a shadow pass by our entrance door as I lift my eyes from my phone, and a full body chill grazes over me.
For a moment, I can’t move, phone in hand, away from my ear. Sylvan is saying my name, but my heart is racing and fear tastes like iron on my tongue.
Then I exhale, and quick-fast head to the kitchen. The cold tiles creak under my feet as I pass the fridge. Then I pull the butcher’s knife from the block, the zing of it telling me it’s likely still sharp. Considering Cyn nor I cook, it must be.
I hold it in one hand, my eyes trained on the main door as I press my phone to my ear with my other.
“He’s coming here.” I interrupt Sylvan’s swearing at my non-responsiveness.
Then there’s quiet. The scent of old books, melted wax, and my own incense perfume fills my nose. This space. The silence.
I don’t say anything stupid like they shouldn’t come here and they should play tomorrow night.
And neither does Sylvan. “We’re on our way. Don’t you dare get off this phone.”
“Don’t I need to call Lincoln?”
“He’s here,” Faust growls after I hear the sounds of Sylvan passing it to his captain. “We’ll tell him. Text me the number, but don’t hang up.”
I nod, unseen by him, and glance down, copying the number with one hand and pasting it into a text thread with Sylvan since Faust wants to stay on the line with me.
