That was what Lorelei had said the day she packed up her things. But that wasn’t the last time I’d heard that strange, specific phrase.
Roman’s voice floated up from the caverns of my hazy memories from the day of the hunt.
You’re a nihilistic black hole, Wesley.
I jolted upright. “Oh my God.”
I’d deleted my burner account off PicWave so I couldn’t see it, but I hadn’t deleted the account permanently.
When I logged back in, for the first time since I’d created the account, I hadnotifications.
@Ofollowed you.
@Siren_Babyfollowed you.
I cursed and rubbed my chest. Oh, no. Oh,no.
Both had sent me messages in the past forty-eight hours.
@Siren_Baby
Hi, Nova. You left before we had a chance to talk. Can you please meet me at the Winter Wonderland party? I need to see you.
@O
8pm. December 2nd. At the house of the divine, where it all began. Theme: Winter Wonderland. Password: Eyes Wide Open. See you soon, Nova. We miss you. xx
I read and reread both messages until I was dizzy and the letters started to tremble slightly on my screen. Then, I toggled back to Lorelei’s page, staring at each image featuring a man’s hands or a man’s hazy outline.
I was so hyped up on adrenaline, I almost called Wes. I called Hudson instead.
“Nova babyyy,” he chirped. “How are we doing?”
“Hudson. Lorelei messaged me. Roman is Lorelei’s mystery man. And the cult wants me to come to their holiday party at the church.”
“So we are not doingwell…” Hudson said slowly. “And this is different than Lorelei crying wolf at the last party how? Are you sure about Roman? Jesus.”
“I don’t know that it’s different. I don’t trust her at all. I don’t trust any of them. And while I don’t know with one-hundred-percent certainty yet, some coincidences are a little too specific to be coincidences.”
I explained everything to him, my fingers nervously tapping on my knee and back hunched over my phone as I did.
“Take a few deep breaths. I’ll be home Tuesday, well before the party. Please keep yourself from any spirals and away from all Joe-from-Yousituations until you have backup. Promise?”
I rattled and buzzed with energy I hadn’t felt in weeks. “Okay. Promise.”
“And?” Hudson asked.
“I’m grateful for you and your gay labor.”
“Thank you,” Hudson said in a dramatic lilt. “Read a book, please. I haven’t seen you read in months.”
I nodded. He was right. Enough brain rot. Enough rotting in general.
“I’m grateful for you too, Nova. And in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I have something I need to confess.”
“Is Thanksgiving recognized as a day of confession?”
“I believe I’m the expert on the matter of Thanksgiving customs, given I’m the only one who has really celebrated the holiday in the past seven years.”
