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Mr. Williams’body still had yet to be found in the ash and rubble of his house at the edge of the city, though officials had been searching since the flames and embers died out early this morning. Soon, they’d find him. But for now, Thorn Valley seemed to collectively be holding its breath, waiting for good news.
All except for Layla Hopkins, who we found in the cafeteria at breakfast, staring up at the news channel on the widescreen television, her food untouched. Subtitles flashed across the bottom of the screen, telling the general public that so far, there was no evidence of arson or any form of foul play. For now, at least, they were treating this as an accident and the authorities suspected the fire came from a burner that was left on in the kitchen.
Which was exactly the story Corvus had fed to the fire chief along with a wad of bills and a cliff-notes version of what we’d found in his house in case the chief decided the bribe wasn’t worth the man’s life.
So far, everything was going to plan, and I couldn’t help a smug smirk as I slid into the serving line, piling a plate high with scrambled eggs and bacon while the guys wandered to our table. I gave Grey a strange look, but he didn’t see, his stare fixed to the screen over Layla’s head.
Apparently, I was the only one eating this morning.
I mean, the sooty, acrid smell of Williams still clogging my nose would probably taint it all with a funny taste, but with enough hot sauce…
Yeah, it’d be fine.
The metal spoon clattered against my tray as I scooped some fruit into a bowl and set it on my tray. Layla twisted in her seat, doing a double take when she saw me. Her first reaction was fear, but I held her there, captive in my stare for a moment, waiting for it to sink in.
I nodded, and she slumped at my wordless admission, a breath puffing from her lips, eyes watering. There it was. The relief.
It solidified that we’d done the right thing.
Layla Hopkins should fear me, but she should fear for the real monsters more.
Better the evil you know than the evil you don’t.
“Hey, Angel.”
My fingers tightened on the tray, and I turned, finding a very familiar six foot tall frame also piling a tray high with breakfast.
“Drake?”
He peered up at me from the corner of his eye. “Yes?”
I looked to the guys, who were all staring at Drake’s back with varying looks of unease.
Drake nudged me out of his way, reaching past my arm to grab some fruit for himself as though this was entirely natural.
“Um, what are you doing here?”
Behind him, I thought I saw another King entering the cafeteria, a girl from my English lit class on his arm, blushing as she bit her lower lip.
Drake tossed his light hair back from his face and lifted a strip of fatty bacon to his mouth, tearing off half the strip with his teeth. “Part of the deal with Dies,” he said once he’d swallowed. “Apparently,” he pointed to the ketchup behind me, “do you mind?”
I moved out of the way for him to grab it. He loaded it onto the mountain of eggs on his plate.
“Apparently, what?”
“Apparently,” Drake repeated, plopping the ketchup back down. “The Aces have resurfaced further south. They may or may not have cut a deal with the, uh, Skeletons?”
“Skeletons?”
“No, fuck, that’s not it. The Dead Men. That’s them.”
I lifted a brow. I hadn’t heard of them.
“You wouldn’t know them,” Drake said, reading my mind. “They’re little league. Barely a blimp on the map, but together with what remains of the Aces…”
“Why weren’t we briefed on this?” I found myself asking, as though Drake would know.
He started toward the table, our table, pausing to look back over his shoulder at me. “You coming?”
