Mom tut-tuts with skepticism. “How many coincidental marks are out there, for us to stumble across two since we lost the talisman?”
Two?Does she mean Darrel’s other tat, the one with the rose and ribbons?
“I’m going to put it to the vote tomorrow,” Dad says. “Along with advancing Stella’s induction.”
“All right.”
There’s a rustle of fabric, like somebody changing their position.
“Go to sleep now,” Mom says. “We have a big day ahead of us.”
I step back from the door, careful not to make a sound. But my knees wobble. I lean against the wall for a moment and bury my face in my hands. My head is spinning with the revelations I’ve just overheard.
They’ll be voting tomorrow.When exactly?What if they do it in the morning? And what happens if they vote to “dispose” of Darrel without delay?
Let me tell you what happens, Stella.He dies. And you become an accessory to his murder.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as the weight of the situation crashes down on me. My parents, the people I trusted most, are part of something very dark, truly sinister. Darrel, the man I’ve come to care for, is in imminent danger of being murdered by them.
And I am caught in the middle of it all.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and tiptoe down the corridor. Past my room. Straight to the staircase. As quietly as I can I descend the wooden steps until my shoeless feet touch the cold tiles of the entryway. In the Contacts on my phone, I find Adam’s number and send a text. And then I take another flight of stairs down to the basement.
DARREL
Asoft noise outside the door jolts me awake. The door opens a crack, then more, and Stella rushes in. She pulls the door closed behind her and turns on the lights. Her chest is heaving. There’s a wild, panicked look in her eyes.
I jackknife into a sitting position. “What’s going on?”
“I sent a text message to Adam,” she says, her voice shaky but determined.
“You did?”
The news is so unexpected, so incredibly good that nothing else comes to mind straight away. I just goggle at her in astonishment and wait for an explanation.
She nods.
OK, not much of an explanation.“Did he reply?”
She glances at her phone before lifting her eyes to me. “I need to go back to the ground floor to check if I have a new message.”
“What time is it?”
“One thirty a.m.” She takes a step toward the door.
“Wait! I just want to know, what changed between last night and now?”
She hesitates for a moment before replying, “You were right. My parents won’t let you out alive.”
I narrow my eyes.
“I overheard them talking about it,” she says. “I had to make a choice.”
Relief and gratitude flood through me. “You made the right choice, Stella!”
“Let me go see if your friend replied.” She takes another step.
“Call Adam if there’s no reply. There’s a good chance he was asleep when you messaged, and didn’t hear the ping.”
