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Back at the house, I grab a bottle of vodka from the kitchen and slip away unnoticed to my room. I can’t be down there with those people while they pretend to mourn the death of my parents. I know so much more about the underbelly of Gravestone now. I know just how deep its dark and twisted roots run.
The second I’m inside my room, I start tugging and clawing at the modest dress until it’s pooled at my feet like a sludgy black puddle. I grab a Gravestone U t-shirt and pull it over my head before curling up on the window seat and pressing my head to the cool glass. The vodka burns as I swallow it down in greedy, desperate gulps. But it’s better to feel something than the constant gnawing emptiness I feel every time I think about what happened.
My bedroom overlooks the luscious green lawn that disappears over a slight hill and leads down to the lake. Trees line the perimeter like a natural fence. It’s beautiful. Such a thing of beauty steeped in so much pain and darkness.
I take another gulp of vodka, already feeling the liquor coursing through my veins. I should have asked Sasha for a pill. Anything to take the edge off.
The trees blow gently in the breeze, back and forth, side to side. My hand splays against the glass when I spot the same figure standing there. He’s too far away to see his eyes, but it’s Cade.
I know it is.
A beat passes as we stare at one another.
He’s watching me.
Hunting me.
Like a predator and its prey.
Relenting first, I blink… but when I open my eyes again, he’s gone.
I cry out in frustration, shoving my fingers into my hair and pulling the roots. I was so certain Cade was there. But people don’t just evaporate into thin air. Besides, I can already feel the effects of the vodka. My head is spinning, and my eyes feel glazed over.
I can’t live like this… always looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to strike.
I need answers.
I need to know what the hell happened, and what Quinctus plan on doing about it.
None of this would’ve ever happened if it wasn’t for them playing with people’s lives like the puppet master.
But Phillip and the other elders talk in riddles, keeping their secrets close and their enemies closer.
They’re not going to give me answers willingly. No. There’s only one way I’m going to get the information I need.
By taking it.
8
Bexley
"You ready to go?" Tim asks, coming to stand in the entrance to the kitchen on Sunday morning.
After Mia left the funeral, Phillip caught up to us before we could make our escape to inform us that he expected us all to attend a Q meeting on Sunday morning. I wanted to tell him where to go as he talked as if everything was normal, as if we hadn't just buried Mia's parents… because of him. But I also couldn't argue, because a meeting might mean we get some answers, and I am all for finding out what the fuck is going on right now.
"I'm staying," Channing announces as the rest of us stand from the kitchen table.
"He said he wanted all of us there."
"Then he needs to remember that I’m out. Plus, someone needs to stay here with Mia."
I glance at Channing—his concern for my girl is almost as strong as mine. Since she thought she saw Cade at the funeral, it's like she spends all her time looking over her shoulder or out of the window as if he's going to suddenly appear.
We keep reassuring her that security have this place locked up tight, but while she might nod like she's listening and accepting that it's the truth, it doesn't stop her.
"He's not going to be happy."
