“It’s like you don’t remember that day,” Gertie went on. “No one ever told us an adult could justdothat. No one came to help. Only five of us walked out of there—and Peter was one of them.”
“That’s why he was damaged.”
“That’s why he wasours!” she cried. “Our little family within the family.”
I stared at Gertie, her silver bell, her color coordination. What was the pod if not another family? Or worse.
“Gertie. Do you think you’re infallible?”
“Infallible? One can’t even find the right shade of malachite.”
It struck me that Faraday’s cult quiz might be incomplete. “Tell me what Sebastian did.”
“Only because it will make you sad.” Gertie threw the cat another piece of fish. “He spilled to Bianca about Yvonne, Tobias, Tillie, Zachary, Olive, and Ramsey. Every blow, every scream, every drop of blood.”
Something heavy landed in my stomach.“Why?”
“Hefnd,” she said. “On the Mortons. On you. For Peter.”
I closed my eyes—Bianca would tell her elders, and they would tell the other families. The Mortons were weak, touched by madness.
I remembered Arabella’s words. “Elizabeth will have his skin.”
“No. Bianca promised not to say who.” Gertie tossed another fish, this time on the floor beside the table—the cat thumped down. “Or maybe she’ll say it was you. She owes you a bit of inconvenience for burning down Halcyon.”
“They won’t believe her,” I said, my eyes drawn to the creature as it shredded and gobbled.
“Because Jessica is the prodigy. The one who does the culling.”
“That’s on you and Sebastian.”
“Because we allowed the Lindqvists to corrupt our dear cousin,” she said in a singsong voice. “Yes, Sebastian told me about Peter’s bomb. How he used my little forgery to purchase naughty toys.”
“You gave matches to a pyromaniac because you thought it was amusing.”
“Amusing?” Her eyes flashed. “It was what he needed. It was who hewas!”
“Then he was always going to be culled.”
“You and Sebastian were our saviors, Jessica. You stopped the swinging axe!” She hurled an anchovy at my head—I ducked, and it hit the wall behind me with an oily slap, sending the cat skittering again. “You don’t get to switch sides, and become one ofthem!”
“There’s no them,” I said. “We’re all Mortons.”
At these words, Gertie closed her eyes, balled up her fists, and let out a piercing shriek. From behind me, a horde thundered down the hallway. A dozen of them piled up outside the kitchen, peering in.
“Coventry!” Gertie screamed at them.
The footsteps retreated again, and the sound of slamming doors echoed down the hallway.
Her voice went quiet, cold. “Don’t youdareblame this on me and Sebastian.Youwere the one in red at Peter’s funeral.”
I shook my head. “If he’d turned his roommate, he could’ve made it all four years. But Sebastian wanted to play politics with the Lindqvists, and you wanted to be a little brat.”
“You threw Peter off a fucking building.” Gertie raised the last shiny sliver of fish. “You finished what your father couldn’t.”
She threw it at my chest—I caught it midair.
“What did you just call him?” I asked.
