But nothing came up.
Another thought crossed my mind—what if Accalia had tricked me? What if Victor was on his way here and she’d purposefully gotten my hopes up, just so he could punish me?
I took a look at the time. It was still only seven minutes past three. I supposedly had fifty-three minutes left, so if it was a trap, I was going to make every one of those count.
I didn’t have Nellie’s number memorized, but she’d always been pretty active on social media. I went to MagikGraph and tried to log in.
No record of an account with this email address found.
Ugh, this was so annoying. I went to try to sign into my email account but again got hit with a message that my account didn’t exist.
I growled in frustration, not knowing whether this was because of prolonged inactivity or if this was Victor’s doing.
After quickly making myself another email address, I created a new MagikGraph account so I could try to find Nellie, but Inearly gasped when I saw her last post was from around four and a half years ago.
Right before I met Victor.
Something wasn’t right. Had the world stopped for everyone else that night, too?
I started to pace, and Ember slipped between my legs as I walked. It was his dinner time but I couldn’t stop. I entered in Kaleb’s name next, and I cried out loud when a post from four and a half years ago popped up, written by his friend.
Please join us for a memorial service celebrating the life of Kaleb Evandell…
Bile crept up my throat as I continued reading, but there was no mention of how he’d died.
I exited MagikGraph and went back to the internet browser, searching “Nellie Delmar” and “obituary.”
Nellie Delmar, beloved daughter, sister, and friend, passed away unexpectedly…
About four and a half years ago.
I ran to the bathroom and began throwing up all the Sanguis Vita I’d had earlier. Nothing made sense—my parents’ numbers were all disconnected, Nellie and Kaleb were dead…
I had seventeen minutes left of my hour and spent it messaging as many people as I could think of who knew me, hoping someone could explain what was going on.
With two minutes to spare, I turned the phone off and plugged it in behind the console, safely tucked away. Then I hopped back on the couch where I’d been one hour ago, my heart racing as I pretended to read my book.
* * *
Victor came as usual the next morning, seemingly oblivious to my contraband and illegal activities. I tried to act neither toocold nor too nice, because if I deviated from how I’d been in either direction, he’d be suspicious.
When he left in the evening, I sat back down on the couch with my book, waiting impatiently until my hour of transgression.
When it finally hit, I gave myself an extra thirty seconds, just to be safe, and then bolted up to the console, taking out the phone and powering it back up.
I went to my new email account first, hoping to find some replies, and bit back my disappointment when I saw that my inbox was empty. Well, it was the weekend, so maybe people were busy.
I checked my DMs in MagikGraph next, and was relieved to find one from Conan, Kaleb’s werewolf friend and someone I’d playedStarlight Dominionwith, waiting for me.
What the hell happened to you? You just upped and left Noctis and didn’t tell anyone where you were going. Kaleb started handing out fliers to try to find you, even after the school said you withdrew and weren’t technically missing, and then you didn’t even show up to his funeral. Not even sure why I’m talking to you.
Oh… oh, no, he… he’d been looking for me. Kaleb had died because I’d opened my big mouth and made Victor aware of his presence. Died because he’d had the misfortune of knowing me. And then he’d cared enough, knew enough about me, to not buy that I’d just dropped out of school and skipped town.
Kaleb… oh Kaleb, I’m so sorry…
I offered up a prayer to Hecara and Orithiel, asking them to guide and care for his soul while silent tears streamed down my face.
Victor had killed him. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind, because it couldn’t be a coincidence that those closest to me, those who would notice my disappearance the most, or those who knew what happened that night, were dead or missing.
