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“All right, I…” I honestly don’t know how to process this. Someone had mentioned that Zoey had taken someone from Jason—but not that he’d taken someone’s life. “Are you sure about this?”
She shrugs. Pops a piece of bread into her mouth.
All right. “Anything else? What about the other boys?”
“I’m not a news agency.”
“You said you could call in some favors, find out more.”
She pins me with her dark gaze. “You swear to me that you’re not keeping anything else back? And that you’ll keep your magic away from me?”
“I swear,” I say because this last bit I can certainly do. No magic, remember?
“I know that Sindri always gets mad when anyone talks shit about his mom. And that Ashton doesn’t really speak to his family. As for Emrys… Demons are complicated. They don’t grow up in families as much as in war groups. But I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thank you, Melissa. I mean it.”
“Don’t thank me until I have something you can use. It will be my pleasure to see these boys fall.”
“Mine, too,” I say but my voice comes out dry. Will it be a pleasure? It doesn’t matter. Some missions aren’t pleasurable. They just need to be seen through.
For justice.
For revenge.
For Ophelia.
I don’t seethe boys in the refectory tonight, or Vanessa, or Brianna. It’s just Melissa and me, and we eat the rest of our dinner in silence. Retreating to my room, I lie down, trying to make a plan, strategize, but I guess emotional upheavals can be exhausting because I fall asleep.
Again.
I wake up many times through the night from strange dreams with Ophelia and Father and Mother and the Church. At some point, the diary starts burning under my pillow like it did once before and I throw it to the floor.
At least I assume that’s what happened because in the morning, when I wake up for good, it’s lying there, beside my bed, face-up, hand-written pages rustling when I swing my legs off the mattress and sit up.
Ugh. Rubbing my hands over my eyes clears up the blurriness. I feel like I’ve been running all night instead of sleeping. Images of my cousin flash through my memory. In my dreams, she’d been telling me something over and over—but what? Something about family crests and pets and asking where her black dress is.
Black dress. I sigh. It’s the one she’s wearing, lying in her glass coffin. She’s there, and I’m here, doing a crappy job of avenging her. She should be here, and I should be at the Church—though the thought of returning scares me.
Then I remember what Melissa told me yesterday and I go very still.
Jason killed his girlfriend.
But he’s upset with Zoey for bullying her? How does that even make sense?
How does this fit with Jason? The Jason who saved me from Emrys’s demon gang on that first night, who kissed me yesterday as if he couldn’t get enough of me, who came to ask me if I could help Ashton.
God’s wolf. Just another name for fallen angels. All magical races are doomed by their blood.
“We’re all cursed,”Ashton had said.
Sindri had said it, too.“I pay a tithe to hell.”
Well, by the end of this, I’ll probably have to, as well. How do I find out more about Jason’s secret? Who would know about this, whether Melissa is right, whether she’s telling the truth?
Zoey.
Very funny, Mia. As if she’d ever help you again.
