The shock of hurting him had ripped me free of the monster’s hold too late to stop the flow of death into his tree, and into him. Mypoison hadn’t killed him—yet—but the agony of what could have been left a buzz of anxiety crawling over every inch of my body.
I hated small, tight spaces and how trapped they made me feel. It reminded me of how it felt when the monster took me over, as though even my skin was too tight to comfortably hold my pounding heart. I’d wanted to rip myself open and yank my skeleton out of my skin, carve off the viscera and breathe, breathe, breathe.
I was too small a container for all the bad inside me. Even tapping the side of my leg brought no relief from the pressure weighing heavy on my chest. This wasn’t new. I’d always known something wasn’t right about me, but I’d never known how to fix it. I didn’t even know how to start. I’d tried carving the monster out, tried starving it out… but it was in my bones.
Eva’s face flashed before me. I’d seen her furious, I’d seen her soft, and wild, but fear was an emotion I’d sworn never to inflict on her again, and I’d broken that promise less than a day after my return.
The door to the hall snicked open, and a man wearing a navy tie cinched to his throat stepped inside, triggering the motion-sensitive lights back on. Dane Walker had been a newly appointed deputy the summer I’d come to stay with the Moreaus. Somewhere along the line, he’d acquired the position of sheriff. It should have been impressive.
But dead men weren’t meant to get promotions.
When Dane dragged over the Pop-Tart bench, sitting spread-legged on the other side of the bars, my already chilled body went full subarctic. I couldn’t help the hollow ache, or the confusion spilling into goose bumps across my skin, at the sight of Dane Walker, hale and whole.
Not a dead man after all, but still my ghost.
“You did the right thing, Arthur.”
I didn’t answer. The only reason I’d given myself up was because I was terrified of the monster inside me getting out again. For so long, I’d tried to minimize the damage I caused just by existing, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t a strong enough cage.
But I couldn’t tell him any of that.
Dane surveyed me carefully. “I want to help you,” he said.
Suspicion collected inside me. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Dane scrubbed the back of his neck. “Jack always thought you were innocent. Isobel insists on it. And I’d like to avoid any more trouble.”
That was just like the man I remembered. Never one to actually face the problem if there was a way to avoid it. No wonder Lenny had walked all over him for so many years.
My stomach soured. “Where’s your brother?”
Dane’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“Is he here?”
In the permeating silence, I could almost hear the tick of my heart, speeding faster. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to hear that Lenny had gotten off scot-free. Maybe I deserved to be locked up, but so did he. Lenny had trespassed into the Moreau family home. Lenny had been the one to start the fight.
“He should be in here too,” I snapped.
“Arthur—”
“No.” Lenny couldn’t get away with doing whatever he wanted just because his brother was the sheriff. It wasn’t right. “He attackedme.”
Dane studied me, then sat back, unhooking a pad of paper from his pocket. He flipped it open and clicked a pen. “Do you have any witnesses?”
“Your brother does a lot of things without witnesses.” The words seemed to unlock something inside me, and before I could stop myself, more raced out. “How are you even alive?”
It came out like an accusation. Maybe it was.
My first summer in Audrey had ended in a nightmare so horrifying that I couldn’t even think of it without bile rising in my throat. By the time I’d grabbed Eva’s hand to run that fateful night, I’d been certain Dane Walker was dead.
When a trail of blood from the cut on my brow leaked down my cheek, the monster darted our tongue out to lick the hot, iron bead off the bow of my lip. Questions pushed to the forefront of my mind. Eloquent questions, likeHow the hell?andWhat the actual fuck?
Most pressingly:Why have I spent my life running from your ghost?
“Frankly,” Dane said, his expression inscrutable, “I was hoping you could enlighten me.”
“Excuse me?”
