I nod, my mouth dry as I struggle to get the words out.
“I understand.”
“Good.” He pulls the jacket tight around my neck and tugs the hood over my face. “And remember?—”
“Do not move,” I recite.
A whisper of a smile returns to his lips, but it isn’t the one I’m used to. Not the sloppy, carefree grin he puts on to make me feel better. This one is heavy, weighed down by the look in his eyes.
“Go.” He dismisses me, urging me in the direction of Crescent House.“Now!”
Elliot ignores my haggard steps as he pulls out his phone.
“Dred?” he barks into the speaker. “It’s Cross. How soon can you get here?”
I don’t linger to hear what else he says. I think I’m starting to get dizzy. Either that or the sight of Grey’s vacant body is turning my mind. Because as I creep back through the darkened forest, I swear I can see the shadows moving.
* * *
The prep kitchen is empty, as promised. Nothing but a few cases of brew sitting unopened on the counter and a spare speaker lying on its side in the corner. Still, I take off my shoes at the door, too cautious to risk the click of my heels on the old stone tile. And somehow, for once in my life, I go unnoticed.
The staircase is vacant, and the resident floor is quiet as I slip through the hallway and hurry down the last corridor.
Elliot’s room sits at the very end of the East wing, directly across from Dame’s and two doors away from Kitty’s.
Kitty snuck Elsie and me up here during our second year to see her new room. But she swore that if Dame found out, he’d bite her head off. So we kept it to ourselves. Although since Elliot didn’t feel the need to give me directions, I get the sense he already knew.
I find the golden nameplate that reads “CROSS” and test the handle. Strangely, there is no lock on the door, but I taste the distinct flavor of magic as I step over the threshold.
When the door clicks shut, I run my hand along the wall, flipping every switch until a light comes on overhead, and I stiffen at the sight it illuminates.
Elliot’s room is clean.
Too clean.
There are no unfolded clothes or scattered shoes. There is no half-finished homework or memorabilia. There isn’t even a photo on the walls. It is utterly devoid of his presence, except for a large pile of books by the bed and a suffocating smell that makes me want to sneeze.
It’s the same minty fragrance I’ve come to associate with Elliot, only stronger, nearly antiseptic. It permeates every corner of the room, like smoke.
I dare not sit.
I’m sure Elliot would bury me alongside Grey if I marred the pristine surface of his bedroom. And I’m not sure I could sit, even if I wanted to. Every time I stop moving, my head spins. So instead, I walk the length of the room, over and over, for who knows how long, until the door creaks open and Elliot slips in soundlessly.
“What are you doing?” he asks, idling just inside the doorway.
I could ask him the same thing.
He’s standing in front of me, shirtless and slick with sweat.
“I-I…”
His patience falters as I fail to speak, replaced by a general disbelief as he gestures wildly with his arms.
“Get in the shower,” he snaps, as if it were obvious.
“What?”
He pauses, tugging at the leather choker around his neck.
