Page 10 of Salem’s Rise

There’s a long beat.

“Josh?” he asks like it’s a foreign word he’s never heard before.

“Yes. Josh Mercer,” I repeat. “Same as my last name.”

“Sorry. I don’t remember a Josh Mercer.”

The words are calm and devoid of any emotion, as if he’s correcting a typo. Beside him, Rowan and Van watch with quiet interest.

“That’s not what he told me,” I say. “Josh respected you. He said you were friends.”

His face gives nothing away.

“I’m afraid your brother was mistaken,” he says.

Van suddenly snaps his fingers. “Mercer,” he says. “You remember, Silas. He was the weird skinny guy always arguing with the professor in econ class. Thought he was so smart.”

“Ah, yes.” Silas nods along. “Didn’t he drop out last fall?”

“He didn’t drop out,” I snap, my cheeks flushing. “Something happened to him last Halloween. He… disappeared.”

“That’s a shame,” Van says, shaking his head, though he doesn’t sound remotely sympathetic. “But then your brother always did have a problem keeping his mouth shut. Guess he finally ran it to the wrong person.”

“Van.” Rowan puts his hand on his friend’s elbow before turning to me, his warm blue eyes holding mine. “Sorry to hear about your brother. That must be hard.”

“Yes, it has been.” I turn quickly back to Silas, who is already standing and eyeing the exit. “I tried emailing you after it happened,” I say. “You never responded.”

“I receive a great many emails.”

“My brother is missing⁠—”

“So you’ve said,” he says drolly.

My temper flares. What an unbelievable asshole!

“You couldn’t spare thirty seconds to return my emails? I’m trying to retrace his steps and figure out what happened to him,” I say. “I have questions.”

Van steps closer, looming over me. “You’re wasting your time—and ours,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket, his expression openly hostile now. “If something had happened to your brother, someone would’ve found him. Guys like him wash out every year. They realize they don’t belong here and disappear back to wherever they came from.” His lip curls. “Have you checked your local community college?”

The contempt in his voice is so effortlessly brutal, it makes my stomach turn.

“Van, enough,” Rowan says.

“What?” Van shrugs. “She should know the truth, right?”

Rowan turns to me with an apologetic smile. “Please forgive him. Van has never mistaken tact for one of his strengths,” he says. “I’m Rowan Ashcroft.” He offers me his hand and I shake it. Unlike his terrible friends, he seems genuinely nice. “I wish we could help you, but like Silas said, we didn’t know your brother. I do hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

“So do I.”

Silas swings his backpack over one shoulder. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

I step toward him, so close I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. They’re almost black from here, only the faintest hint of color visible around the pupils.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitates like he’s deciding what to do with me, then shifts toward me instead of away. I catch the faint scent of cedar and smoke as he holds my gaze for a second that feels too long.

“You want help? Here it is,” he says, his voice flat and cutting. “Go home. You’re looking for answers that don’t exist. You don’t belong here, and neither did your brother.”