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“What? When?”
“Like eighteen years ago, I think,” he said.
My eyes widened. “You don’t think...?”
He stopped, fixing me with a look I couldn’t read. “Roman is not your father.”
“How would you know?”
“Trust me. He’s not,” Desmond said. “The timing doesn’t work. My point is, I think he always wanted to be part of the family. Get all the perks of being a Vaughan.”
“Meaning the Other. It’s not just something we keep locked up here, is it? It gives the family power somehow. I mean, maybe that’s how we got rich in the first place. Bringing people out here and using the Other to brainwash them into agreeing to whatever business deals the family wanted.”
Desmond’s jaw worked. He swore under his breath and looked off to the side, hands in his pockets. “This is messed up.”
“Roman must have known about it all. What’s really going on,” I said. “God, I have to get out of here. I have to get away from that thing.” Bryony would tell me the dark soul wasn’t a monster, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. I had to get free of it. I would destroy it if I had to.
“Hey, are you... are you okay?” Desmond asked. He put his hand to the back of his neck, his whole body a knot of tension.
“I have no idea how to answer that,” I said. I looked up at him, blinking away the sharp sting of tears. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”
“It’s not important,” Desmond said. “Or it is, but I don’t need to bother you right now.”
“Desmond...”
He winced. “The journal’s gone.”
I bolted to my feet. “What do you mean, gone?”
“I mean it was in my room, on my desk, when I went down for dinner last night. When I got back it was gone.” His shoulders slumped.
“Who took it?” I asked. I found myself holding on to the bed post as if for support.
Desmond’s hand cut through the air in a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know. A raccoon. The ghost of Christmas past. It could have been anyone.”
“Not anyone. You said you were at dinner—who else was there? Did they come after you got there or leave before you?”
“I’m not Sherlock Holmes. I wasn’t paying attention,” Desmond said. “We’ll look for it. For now, though, can we just deal withnow? Roman dying? Because my mom and Celia are going to be wrecked, and I need to go be with them.”
“Of course,” I said. I sat back down slowly, a groan slipping from my lips. “God, poor Celia.” Now Iwasgoing to cry.
“Helen...” He trailed off. When he spoke again, his tone was brisk. “There’s mud in your hair. You should probably get cleaned up.” He left, and I stared after him, wondering what it was that Desmond wasn’t telling me.
24
IT WAS ANOTHERhour before my summons came. I walked to Caleb’s study with trepidation. I wasn’t sure what I would find when I got there—a room full of police? But of course it was only family. Vaughans dealt with their own problems. Caleb sat behind the desk. Iris had taken a chair off to the side, and Mom was there, too, looking pale and fidgeting with her sleeves. The edges of her nails were chewed ragged.
“Helen, take a seat,” Caleb said as soon as I entered. I closed the door and obeyed, sinking into the hard wooden chair next to Mom.
“We need to discuss what happened and make some things very clear,” Iris said. “First, the police will need to be informed. It won’t be a problem; we’ve handled these sorts of accidents before. As far as any official record is concerned, you were in your bed all night. You saw nothing. You have nothing to do with what happened. Is that understood?”
I nodded and forced myself to meet her eyes. I didn’t understand how Iris could sit there looking at me like I was her beloved granddaughter and not a lamb she meant to lead to slaughter.
“Of course, the reality of the matter is much different,” Calebsaid. “I think it would be valuable for you to give us a full account of what happened.”
I drew in a breath, squaring my shoulders. Haltingly, I began. I gave a much abbreviated version—I’d followed Roman outside; the shadows attacked. I left out the bones and Roman’s bag. I didn’t have to fake any of the disgust and horror in my voice when I came to finding Roman’s body, though. “Did Celia see?” I asked when I was done.
“No, thank god,” Caleb said. “That was quick thinking. And for what it’s worth, you were right to run last night. You couldn’t have saved him.”
