Thank you so much, Devon.“It’s not as straightforward as that,” I say, not wanting to get into the whole “feasting on your depression and rejection” aspect of it. “I tried not to. Except for Lennie because it never seemed to affect her and I didn’t want to—”
Carter is on his feet and halfway to the doors before I even register what’s happening.
“Wait. Please. Just…”Fuck, fuck!“Please, leave town,” I call after him. “Being… close to me has put you in danger and I can’t protect you!” But he’s gone before I’m even halfway through that last sentence, and I have no way of knowing if he heard me or understood.
Shit.I take a breath against the stabbing pain in my chest.So I guess that’s it.
“Lennie,” Chessa says, wrapping her arms across herself defensively. “And Daan. The kids in his house. Was that you?” Her throat works as if she’s trying to contain a scream.
“No, of course not!” I say. “I told you. My father has enemies, enemies that, I guess, are now mine. I’m doing my best to stop it, them. But I can’t figure out—”
“Why?” she asks.
It’s my turn to be confused. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why are you trying to stop it? So you can keep skulking about, pretending to care about us, when we’re really just sheep in your pen?” Her voice rises to a shout on the last words.
“No! No,” I repeat in a quieter voice. “You’re not… that’s not how it is.” Though is she completely wrong? If I could go back to everything the way it was before, I would. Until this moment, that’s what I’ve been aiming for. But now…
Chessa seems unmoved, and frankly, I don’t blame her.
“I didn’t even have to say anything,” I point out. “I’m trying to protect you. I want you to leave town so you can be safe until I—”
“Safe after you put us in danger in the first place?” She shakes her head, the motion jerky and tight. “Remind me to send you a thank-you note.”
I push back against the rising tide of anger in me. “You’re right, and I can’t do anything about that now,” I say levelly. “But if you leave—”
“I can’t leave!” she snaps. “A weekend is one thing. But leaving town? Indefinitely? My scholarship is dependent on my grades and attendance, remember?”
I do, yes.
“And unless you know something I don’t about sick days, my parents can’t exactly call in ‘trapped in a supernatural nightmare of epic proportions’ for work,” she continues.
“I don’t think it’ll take that long,” I hedge. Which is some pretty spectacular self-delusion, given that everything I’ve tried so far has failed. Then again, failing utterly and dying would probably end this fairly quickly, albeit not in the direction I want.
“Fuck you, Jo,” Chessa says. She spins on her heels and stalks out, fists clenched at her sides.
Head sagging, I drop back into my chair. I sense more than see Devon approaching. “You want to yell at me too?” I ask.
“Nope. Just remind you that you’ve just broken the one inviolable precept of the Old Ones by telling your friends the truth,” he says.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I argue, looking up at him.
He sighs. All traces of humor have vanished from his face. “But when one of the Old Ones shows up here to punish you for it, how manymorehumans are going to die? How many of us who’ve taken your side?”
I don’t want to have a side to take! I don’t want any of this!I keep the words in, but just barely.
Because it doesn’t matter what I want. It’s what is.
Shit.I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. “I told you, this is why I can’t do this. I can’t be the new Death.”
“And yet, you’re the only one we have,” Devon says.
20
Sunday mornings at Beecher are usually pretty laid back. A handful of khaki-clad guys and women in dressy coats making their way to the gray stone chapel at the center of campus or huddling under its gothic archway at the front with cups of hot chocolate.
A few obsessively driven music majors hauling oversized instrument cases at a fast clip to the Meredith Center for the Arts to get their desired rehearsal room before anyone else arrives.
