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“It’s almost the anniversary of Christian’s death.”
“I know. Come,” he says, gesturing to the open door.
“Does Jericho know?”
“Don’t worry about my brother. I’ll take care of him.”
I remember how he fought him at the chapel. He probably saved my life. “Thank you for what you did at the chapel,” I say.
He opens his mouth, then closes it and just nods. “Come, Isabelle. Your friend is waiting.”
“Thank you,” I say again and walk out into the hallway, looking around the house like it’s foreign to me. I wonder if this is how prisoners feel when they’re set free. But then I remind myself it’s only been a few days. Jericho will come around. He has to.
“She’s in the library,” he says once we reach the landing. I can already hear Catherine and Megs talking through the open door. When I get there, I smile wide at the sight of my friend.
“Megs!” I run to her, hug her.
Catherine straightens from where she’s laying out everything for tea and smiles too, then quietly retreats from the room and closes the door.
“Hey,” Megs says, drawing back. I realize I’m crying when she wipes my face. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”
I straighten, wipe the backs of my hands over my eyes. “It’s just good to see you again. I’m so glad you came.”
“Why haven’t you been in touch? You don’t answer your phone. It just goes right to voice mail. You’ve been MIA, Isabelle.”
I sigh and we sit down on the couch. I notice the pastry box and open it but even the gorgeous cake inside doesn’t elicit much response. “I don’t have my phone anymore,” I say, not quite looking at her because how do I explain this?
“Did you lose it or something? Or get a new number you aren’t sharing with me?” she teases.
I decide I’m not going to lie to her. I’m not going to cover up this strange situation. “He took it. He hasn’t given me a new one.”
Her eyebrows furrow together as she processes this. “What do you mean?” she asks slowly.
I slice two pieces of cake and set them on the plates Catherine left but neither of us picks them up.
“My situation right now is…strange. Jericho is…” I draw in a deep breath and consider how to tell her. But I don’t have to because she speaks next, and I’m surprised.
“Julia wasn’t lying, was she?”
“Julia?”
She glances at the closed door and leans in closer. “She came to see me a couple of days ago. She said she was worried about you. Said your husband wouldn’t let you talk to her. That you’re a prisoner in this house. Is that true, Isabelle?”
My face flushes with heat and more tears threaten, but somehow, I hold them back. My heart races. I’m embarrassed and I want her to understand. It’s just too much.
“Honey, what the hell is going on?” She pulls out her phone. “I can call the fucking cops here right now.”
I shake my head, feeling the lump in my throat I’ll need to swallow before I can form words.
“There’s a lot of history between our families, Megs. And Jericho… The police won’t be able to do anything.”
“What do you mean they won’t be able to do anything?”
“Nothing. It’s…” I draw in a deep breath. What do I do, tell her about The Society? About the power they wield. About the strange traditions and rituals. She’ll think I’ve gone mad.
“It’s not nothing if he’s got you locked up in here. What the hell, Isabelle? I don’t like Julia,” she says, standing, pacing. “But fuck. She was telling the truth, wasn’t she?”
“I don’t know what she told you but I’m sure at least some of it is true.”
“Shit.” She sits down and I get an idea. Because there is one thing Megs can help with.
“Listen, can you do something for me?”
“Anything. What can I do?”
“Can you find out if there’s a man named Gerald Gibson who lives somewhere near here, I guess? I’m not sure exactly where. New Orleans though. Or near it. He’d have a brother named Danny Gibson.” Saying his name takes something from me and it’s a moment before I can continue. “Don’t go to his house or anything. I just want to know if he exists and where he lives. And if you can find out if he owns a white van.” I add that last part uneasily.
Megs studies me. “Who is he?”
“Just find out for me, will you? Maybe you can come see me again and tell me. But don’t tell Julia I asked.”
“What the hell is going on, Isabelle?”
“I’m pregnant,” I tell her. She looks surprised. “Julia didn’t tell you that part I guess?”
“No, she didn’t. How far along?”
“About two months.”
“Shit. Is that why you got married?” she is doing quick math.
I shake my head. “No, that’s a lot more complicated. But the reason I’m locked up in here is Jericho found something I forgot I even had. And he thought I’d hurt our baby.” God. It sounds terrible to say that to her. To hear myself say it out loud to her.
