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She whirled around, eyes wild. “If you don’t shut up now, I’m going to hit you with this fucking flashlight and carry you off this island,” she seethed.
I narrowed my eyes. “Well, if you would listen to—”
And then Diana made good on her promise.
* * *
I woke on Diana’s couch in her living room as a scream pierced the night.
I turned toward the sound and saw Diana at her window, peering out into the dark. It had begun to rain, and when she turned to me, her face was melancholy and disappointed.
I swung my legs onto the floor, rubbing the knot on my head. “What the fuck did you do to me?” I asked, my voice ragged.
“Saved your life, damned another,” she replied, graven.
She walked away from the window into her kitchen. A dim light above her stove was the only light in her place. “Want something to drink?” she asked, as if we hadn’t just heard a scream, a cry for help, or worse.
I walked into the kitchen area. “No, I don’t want a drink. I want you to answer my question and not in the way Sorina would answer,” I said through clenched teeth.
Diana ignored me, reaching for a kettle, filling it with water. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want an answer to, young wolf.”
“What?” I asked, annoyed.
“Why do you use the name Hemming? It is not your birth name. And it’s not what you are. Not really …”
I bristled at her knowledge of my life, crossing my arms. “How do you know it’s not my name?”
“Youraunt”—the word sounded like poison on her tongue—“may have covered your tracks for people who don’t know where to look or knowtolook, but I know more about you than you think.”
“Aiight.” I chuckled, mocking her. “So we’re going in the direction of let’s talk like Sorina. Cool. Why don’t you call her up and have her come over so you both can piss me the fuck off,” I said, walking toward the door.
Diana was in front of me in a flash, blocking my path. “It’s not safe out there. You heard it.”
“Yeah, and someone may need help.”
“And you’re the one to help her?” She cocked an eyebrow, grabbed my arm, then turned me toward the kitchen. I moved to brush her off, pissed that she’d touched me, but I couldn’t. She was stronger than I expected.
“Let go of me,” I said, voice laced with anger. I liked Diana when I met her, but that didn’t give her the right to touch me. “I don’t like people fucking touching me.”
She let go, eyes softening. “I’m sorry. I just, you can’t go out there. If you got hurt, I would never forgive myself. And Sorina would never forgive me.”
“Sorina doesn’t give a shit about me,” I said, shocking myself. We played games; she let me touch her and taste her. But she frightened me, haunted me. She was the girl of my dreams, but my dreams were nightmares.
Diana smiled, sorrow at the edges of her eyes. “That’s not true. You mean more to her than she wants.”
“What are you two hiding?” I asked, walking back into the kitchen.
Diana joined me, putting the kettle on. She spoke as she worked, pulling loose tea leaves from a jar and placing them in a metal ball. “I know you and your little friends have banded together to uncover the mystery of the runaway girls. But you’re messing with things you cannot fathom, a force you cannot defeat. Not yet, anyway. If the prophecies are true, that is.”
“Prophecies?” I closed my eyes, seeing red from her words. “If you know as much about me as you say, then you know where I came from. I’m not going back to that life. Prophecies and omens and the wrath of God. I left that life behind. I’m not going to church with Valerie, and I’m not listening to made-up tales from you. There is no God. There is no Devil. Omens aren’t real. They’re made-up stories we tell ourselves to explain why people do bad shit. It’s what he did.”
“Markus was an evil man. An arrogant monster who paid the price. He was sick. ”
I shivered at his name, confirming that Diana knew about my past. “He was.”
“He was a pretender. He has nothing on the man …” She let the word linger for a beat. “He has nothing on the man doing this,” she finally finished.
“Everyone has written this Amber Hughes girl off as a runaway,” I said, running my hands through my hair, tugging in frustration. “If we don’t look for her, who will?”
