And Death is not here.
“Jo,” Devon says, cutting into my thoughts. “I think that’s another one over there.” He points across the street to where another vaguely human-shaped husk flaps against the cemetery’s wrought iron fence. A pile of bright blue fabric lies in a heap next to it.
“Yeah,” I manage.
If students are missing, as Kenzie said, I have a very bad feeling about where they might be.
Dizziness swarms me, a thousand buzzing bees waiting to sting. I don’t know how Death plans to transfer power to me. Maybe he already has, without my knowledge. It’s possible; I have no idea what that would look like or feel like. And my control, never perfect to begin with, might not have been able to handle that sudden influx. What if this is the result?
Thatyou’rekilling people, eating them like a giant sucking marrow from teeny-tiny bones in some kind of twisted fairy tale come to life?
I can’t breathe. My lungs are locked in the shallow grave of my chest, and they can’t expand enough to bring in the oxygen I need.
It’s a panic attack, another one.
I kneel on the ground, letting the ice-encrusted grass burnthrough the thin layer of fabric covering my knees. The seeping cold is an immediate—and uncomfortable—distraction.
Devon crouches down next to me, his hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
That I’m not must be clearly written on my face, because he reaches down and catches my cold hand in his. I brace for the surge of his power, like before, the warmth of lust swirling through me.
But this time, it’s just his hand in mine, a steadying warm comfort.
A reminder of what it means to be accepted for who I am. That I can be powerful and incredibly vulnerable and a mess at the same time. I might be a monster to my friends, but I’m also still me.
“It’s okay,” Devon says. “You’reokay.”
He says it over and over again, patiently waiting.
After a moment, the tightness in my chest eases, and I can pull in the needed air.
He nods encouragement at me, and I want to cry.
No. Not allowed.
“Let’s keep going.” I stand. I need to see what’s happening in the cemetery, if that’s the source—
“Dev!” A voice calls after us.
We turn in unison to see Aadesh hurrying down the stairs of the Theta Iota porch toward us. “Aadesh, what are you still doing here?” Devon asks.
I shift to one side, blocking Aadesh’s view of where the husk was, though there’s nothing left to see, really.
Aadesh reaches us, out of breath in his hurry. “We can’t find Jack. I’m hanging posters.” He holds up a stack of pages in his hand and a roll of clear tape in the other. “Jack’s mom is freaking out. He was supposed to call home for his sister’s birthday last night, buthe didn’t. His phone is going straight to voicemail, and no one has seen him since he left to take the trash out yesterday afternoon.”
I remember that. Desh asked me yesterday if I’d seen him. With a sinking heart, I realized we had two more pieces of the puzzle that might go together.
“Did, uh, did Jack have a tattoo by any chance? On his arm…” I pause, trying to figure out which side of the arm we saw on the husk. “Between his wrist and his elbow?” I say finally. That would work either way, I guess.
Aadesh frowns at me. “Yeah. It’s our crest. So you did see him?”
Fuck.I shake my head. “No.” It’s not exactly a lie. I haven’t seen Jack. Just what’s left of him.
“Oh.” Aadesh’s forehead crumples in confusion. “Okay?”
“We’re in the middle of something, but if you give me a few minutes, I can help,” Devon says, shooting me a questioning glance.
“No, it’s okay, you can go now,” I say.
