A few camera crews catch us going out and want to know anything we’ll tell them. The police told us not to say anything, so we don’t, but they follow us to the boat, yelling questions the whole way. And then we’re on the boat, leaving the island crawling with escaped asylum residents, cops, and reporters. Just the kind of chaos that follows in the wake of a bunch of heathens.
Thanks to us, Havoc Harbor is living up to its name too.
The boats Saint hired to come over to the island and give passage back to the mainland just dropped off their passengers, most of whom haven’t figured out where to go. We see a few of them wandering around the docks looking lost, one getting kicked out of a bar, and one who is almost definitely stealing a car in the parking lot when we get in our van and leave the pier.
“I feel bad for them,” Mercy frets, looking out the window. “Some of them have been there a long time.”
“Let the town deal with them,” Saint grumbles. “They let that shit go on under their noses for decades.”
“Yeah,” I agree, swallowing a couple pain pills dry. “Her blood’s on their hands.”
“They have families who put them there,” Angel assures Mercy. “They’ll get in touch with them and go home. In themeantime, can we get some food? I’m about to eat one of you, and not in the fun way. No offense, Mercy, but man cannot subsist on pussy alone.”
Father Salvatore pulls into a little shopping center with a fish market and a tiny grocery store, and we split up and go in to get food. On our way, I catch sight of the little ice cream shoppe with the flavors written on a board near the door that I saw on the way into town.
“Let’s get ice cream after,” I say, pointing. “We never got to go the other day.”
After we grab groceries and fish, we start back to the car. I’d almost forgotten the ice cream until I see a flash of pink over that way. When I turn, there’s no one there. Still, I convince the others to grab cones as a snack, since it’ll take a while to cook the food we bought. We’re halfway to the place when the sign on the door flips from open to closed.
“That’s weird,” Saint says. “It’s evening. This should be their busiest time of day.”
We take a few more steps that way before the metal covering for the window rolls down, and I catch another flash of pink. This time I can tell it’s hair, a girl mostly hidden in shadow, standing on tiptoes to pull the window closed.
“Rude,” Angel says, pouting. “I was looking forward to a double chocolate cone.”
“How are you not bored with that?” I ask. “You’ve been ordering it for fifteen years.”
“Never gets old,” he says.
“I found a weekend rental,” Saint says, scrolling on his phone. “We can stay a couple nights before we go back.”
We reach the van and find a napkin shoved under the door handle.
“Don’t touch that,” Saint warns, scanning the area. “They put drugs on those.”
“Nobody’s giving away free drugs,” I say, plucking the napkin out. I’m about to drop it when I see a message scribbled on it, the soft fibers torn like it was written in a hurry.
“Don’t bring that in the van,” Mercy says, wrinkling her nose. I crumple it up and toss it away, pretending all is well, that there was nothing out of the ordinary. I sneak glances at the others, waiting for one of them to ask what it said, but they must not have seen it.
After dinner, I tell them I’m taking the van and going for a drive.
“I’ll come with,” Saint says, grabbing his hoodie.
“I think I want to be alone,” I say.
They’re all looking at me like I’m delicate as a baby bird, which pisses me off.
“You’re not going to do something stupid?” Angel asks, watching me suspiciously.
“I’ve never done anything stupid in my life,” I say, batting my eyes at him with as much innocence as Mercy does.
“If you’re not back in an hour, we’re coming to find you,” Father Salvatore says, handing me the keys. I know he will, too. The guy will probably just don the collar and go next door to ask for the neighbor’s car. People don’t like to say no to priests, and he acts all noble and charming when he’s not killing dudes and fucking girls in their blood.
A few minutes later, I’m parking back where we were this evening. I take a second to wonder if I’m doing something stupid, but I can’t get the message on that napkin out of my head.
Come back alone.
I might have thought it was someone fucking with us, trying to lure Mercy back into danger, but the doctor is dead, and if the Sinners are still around, they have nowhere to takeher. That, and the napkin had three scratched lines, forming a slanting, crookedH.
