Page 94 of Grace

“No,” I reply, too loud—too sharp. All eyes are on me. My throat is dry. Cameron blinks. The bar goes quiet.

“I’m going to Cyrus,” I tell him in a low, near-whisper.

He grabs my arm and stops me. Why is everyone doing this to me today?

“I don’t think you should go near him. You put him in too much danger. First, his mother, now this boy…”

“Do you know something I don’t? You’re the second person today telling me this. And if you don’t want to end up on that ghost list, you’d better take your hands off me,” I hiss.

I’ve had enough of people treating me like Pandora, as if I’m always one breath away from opening my box and unleashing horrors on the world.

He lifts his chin gravely, and lets me go. Threatening him wasn’t fair—his stories aren’t made of pretty memories. His tales draw people into an idyllic age, and then darkness descends, and destruction—filthy violence and screams—replaces the idyll. And a disgusting massacre.

My heart breaks when he talks about how many women and girls were raped and never saw justice, how those greedy monsters got away with it. They stole their land, wiped out their tribes. Some took their own lives. Others swallowed their dignity and bowed to tyranny.

The blood of his ancestors painted this land red.

“That’s what I thought, and now if you’ll excuse me…” I run across the bar, shaking off the nasty whispers and the burning, acidic looks that follow me.

Before big storms, there’s always a moment when the wind stops and everything goes quiet. This is that moment. It’s 2 p.m., and the town is swallowed by darkness. Clouds blot out the sun, and it feels like evening. Then the lull breaks. The wind surges and changes everything. It drives the fresh scent of rain into my nose. It rattles the leaves in the trees, and the darkness over the sky presses down harder and harder. The streets are empty—everyone has fled indoors. The storm rips at signs, knocks over trash bins, makes trees lean sideways, tears off dry branches and leaves.

I hide my face in my arm and stumble across the parking lot. The asphalt is slick with the huge raindrops suddenly pouring from the sky. As I fight the wind and try to get my car door open, my foot slips and I land hard on my ass. I punch my bag in anger and swallow a curse. I haul myself into the driver’s seat, soaked and filthy. I jam the key into the ignition with shaking fingers, turn it, but the engine coughs and dies almost instantly.

“Fuck!” I slam my hands on the steering wheel and jump when someone knocks on the window. I wipe the thin film of fog from the glass, and I’m not surprised to find Chase’s dark eyes staring back at me. Fat raindrops slide down his forehead and catch on his thick eyelashes. I roll the window down.

“Leave me alone, Chase. I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing with me, but these gifts cross every line.

“What gifts?” He furrows his brow in confusion.

“Don’t play dumb!” I blurt, climbing out of the car and shouting over the storm. “The teddy bear, the flowers, the kitten… And now there’s another death on your hands because our neighbor’s dog tore it to pieces this morning.”

Chase glances around, confused, then shoves me back into the car.

“What are you doing?”

“Slide over.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

“You’ve lost your mind! You’re the one putting me in danger—you’re trying to drive me crazy!”

“It wasn’t me.” He looks straight into my eyes.

“Then who?” I cross my arms, furious, and brace my foot against the door so he can’t get in. “Who else could know what gifts you gave me?”

“A lot of people.”

The way he says it makes my stomach twist. Chase grips my thigh and applies a little pressure. I loosen my stance so he can shove me over to the passenger seat.

“What do you mean, a lot of people? Who did you tell?”

“No one.”

“Then how would they know? If this is a trap…” I lift my index finger in warning.

“It’s not a trap. I didn’t tell anyone what happened, because… I didn’t have to.”