Carter opens his mouth, reluctance writ large on his face. “Right. I understand. I just think it would be better if—” His gaze shifts to a point behind me, and his expression morphs along with it, resuming that distant unreadable look I’m familiar with.
He used to look at me that way in class, skimming right pastme, his face set in stone. Like he didn’t know who I was or care to know. Back then, I hoped it was his method for hiding strong emotions. These days, I don’t know anymore.
When I glance back, I find Devon approaching rapidly, features grim. Aadesh is trailing after him, a smaller pile of flyers in hand. “Jo, I found three more of those skin things on the other side,” Devon says quietly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the street on the opposite side of the cemetery. A residential street, not university owned or affiliated.
Just people, families, children.
So, not only on campus then. And possibly spreading.
“Okay,” I say. Except… what am I supposed to do now? I have no idea.
“I tried to claim Beecher,” I tell Devon before he can suggest it again. “It didn’t work. So either I did it wrong or something is messed up here, possibly connected to everything else.”
He nods, but his eyes are fixed on Carter. “I doubt you did it wrong,” Devon says to me. “I don’t think there is a wrong. Just intention and power. So your hypothesis that all the anomalies are connected seems more likely. What is he doing here?”
The topic change catches me off guard, so it takes me a second to make the leap. “Carter? He came because he wanted to talk to me…” I turn sideways to include them both in the conversation.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m here. If I can help,” Carter says to me, but his tone is flat and his gaze never strays from Devon.
“Excellent. Welcome, brother.” Devon’s faint accent is stronger, icier. “I always say it’s better to take action than, I don’t know, watch from the sidelines.”
That feels oddly specific.
“I’m just concerned about Jocasta. I want to make sure someone is looking out for her instead of his own agenda,” Carter says.
It’s as if I don’t exist, standing between the two of them while they shoot laser-beam eyes at each other over my head.
What is this?
“Okay, enough.” I hold my hands up to stop them. “I don’t know what you two are doing, but it’s weird and gross. I can take care of myself, thank you, andwecan use all the help we can get. Got it?”
Devon, at least, has the sense to look a little ashamed, dropping his gaze. Carter remains impassive, but the tension in his frame seems less.
Thank God.
Aadesh reaches us then, breathless. “Jo, hey. Did you tell her about the notes on the doors?” he asks Devon. Then he clocks Carter in what would, under other circumstances, be a hilarious double take. “Oh. Carter. Uh, hi?” Aadesh sounds confused to find his former TA here. Which, same.
Carter nods at him in a formal manner, one that gives “teacher trying not to be annoyed” vibes. “Aadesh.”
“What notes?” I ask.
“People have been leaving notes on their doors, telling household members who aren’t home where they’re going. That’s what the emergency alert advised,” Aadesh says quickly. “Most of them are taking shelter at the public library on that side.” Aadesh gestures toward the houses in the residential area. “On our side, they’re heading to Wibberley. But Devon thinks…” He pauses, glancing at Devon with uncertainty.
“I think that the notes might indicate someone from thathouse is missing,” Devon says smoothly. “If they can’t be found to evacuate with the others.”
Or if there’s a fucking husk nearby.
“It might be worth noting which buildings seem to be missing an occupant or two,” Devon continues. “To give us a range.”
And a rough body count.
Aadesh frowns. “A range?”
“For the university or the cops,” I say, hoping that will be enough to satisfy him.
“Oh.” Aadesh nods, but his brows are still drawn together in confusion. “But why would they—”
“In fact,” I cut in, “why don’t you give us the rest of your posters for Jack and we’ll hang them? You can head home.”
