“I would,” I sign, mostly to her.
That does nothing to soften the tension in her body. But I can’t say I particularly blame her. We both know what my protection involves, even if Oliver doesn’t. And I can feel the bloodlust surging in me, and the killing moon is echoing in the rattle of tree branches. I don’t care, though. Oliver is hurting, and I can take away the things that caused that hurt. It’s all I can do, really.
“Why don’t we go back to Theo’s cabin?” Chloe signs. “And we can talk about it there?”
Oliver looks over at me, and I nod. Then he does, too.
Chloe stands up, but it’s my hand that Oliver takes. It’s startling how small it is. And how easy it is for me to be delicate with it, to not crush his tiny, bird-like bones in my palm.
I tug him toward the woods, the two of us leading Chloe home.
But I can feel her worry the whole way back.
“I needto call Child Protective Services,” Chloe signs. “He can’t just run away and live with you. That’s not how things work.”
We’re in the kitchen. Oliver is in the living room, drawing on some of my mother’s old stationery with a ballpoint pen. He held my hand the entire way back to the cabin, and I feel a jolt of irritation at Chloe’s words. Because why couldn’t he live here? Does she think I would hurt him?
No. That’s not what she’s worried about, and I damn well know it.
“If you call the authorities,” I say slowly, making sure my words are clear, “they will find out about me.”
Chloe frowns. “I’m not calling the police.”
Frustration bubbles through me. “If Oliver mentions me, don’t you think they’ll want to ask questions? Even if they aren’t the police?”
Chloe’s frown deepens. I glance past her to look at Oliver. He’s still curled up on the couch, his pen scratching furiously over the paper. I do understand where Chloe’s coming from. It would be better to go through legal channels, I suppose, and she’ll be there, out in the real world, to make sure Oliver is safe.
But the rage is hot and steady in my chest. And all I can think about is when I was a child, all the taunts and mockery and bullying I endured any time I crossed the lake to Veritas. It didn’t end until I died.
No. It didn’t end until I came back and killed my tormentors.
“Please,” Chloe signs. “Can we at least try it this way? You can’t just—” Her hands shake, and she doesn’t finish what she’s signing. It doesn’t matter. I know what she was going to say.
I resist the urge to ask herwhy not?Why can’t I kill them, the monsters calling themselves Oliver’s parents?
“I’ll tell Oliver not to say anything about you,” Chloe signs. “He’ll understand. Or maybe you should tell him. He thinks you’re a ghost, doesn’t he?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
“Exactly. We’ll tell him he can’t talk about you because you’re a ghost and—they won’t believe him. Right?” Chloe drops her arms to her sides, her eyes big and luminous. My own gaze drops down from her face to the marks on her neck, just barely visible above the high collar. I brush my fingers across them, the touch feather-soft. Chloe stiffens.
“And if the authorities notice that?” I ask. “I know Oliver didn’t, but he’s just a child. A social worker almost certainly would.”
Chloe’s cheeks turn pink. “Are you sure Oliver didn’t notice?”
“He didn’t ask about them, did he?” I rake my fingers through her hair, and any earlier irritation I felt evaporates away. I know she’s trying to protect Oliver, same as me. And I know her methods are better. Iknowthat.
I still feel it, though. The killing moon’s icy pull across the water. My fingers flex against her scalp.
“I’ll wear a scarf,” Chloe signs. “So they won’t see. That’s if they even talk to me. Which they might not. They’ll just send someone to check on Oliver’s house. If there’s anything suspicious, they’ll take care of it.”
I keep petting Chloe’s hair, relishing the silk of it against my fingers. She’s too naive if she thinks it’s going to work that way. But I know my way has its flaws, too.
Part of me wishes I could just gather up both of them and take them far, far away from here. It surprises me how vividly I can picture it. I don’t leave my territory unless I absolutely have to. And I would never abandon it like that.
Except maybe I would. For them.
Chloe and I stare at each other while Oliver’s pen scratches across the paper.
