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The Winters know Paul brought me out here. He went missing afterwards, and now they’re asking questions. They must have exhausted every other option. Why else would they start to question that after six months have gone by? It just doesn’t make sense.
A creeping sense of dread spreads over me that I can quite get rid of.
They’re not going to let it drop. If they come out here, they’ll figure out something doesn’t add up.
I’m still sitting on the couch staring into space while I try to work out what to do about it, when the floorboards creak behind me and I turn to see Adrian standing in the doorway, his tired gaze on me.
“Why are you down here?” he asks.
I lift my phone and wave it so he can see it. “My mom called. Paul’s parents have suspicions about where their son went.”
“Paul …” he starts, as if he’s trying to remember where he’s heard that name.
“My ex who tried to kill me,” I remind him.
“Right. Paul. His parents are asking about him now?”
“They just freaked my mom out and made her call me.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her he’s not here.”
Adrian moves to the side of the couch and holds out a hand.
“And he’s not here, Rachel. You did good.”
I take his hand, instantly feeling like the weight is starting to lift.
“He’s dead,” I remind him.
“And gone,” he reminds me.
There are no remains for his parents to uncover. I don’t believe even a dark arts spell would uncover his ashes from the ocean. Adrian’s right. He’s gone. His parents will never find out what happened.
I feel bad for them, in a way I’ll never feel bad about what happened to Paul. They probably had no idea he was practicing dark arts. He was just their son, and they loved him.
Goddess, all the energy I woke up with is gone.
I want to close my eyes and pretend I never took that call from my mother.
“Come back to bed,” Adrian tells me.
I get to my feet and let him lead me out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Adrian
Racheltakesmyhandand lets me lead her back to bed. She moves slowly, and I don’t try to rush her. After a few days of draining her magic to help her friend, she’s been hit with an unexpected call that’s making her question a decision we made six months ago. I can see she’s in shock, and I need to do what I can to make her feel better.
“It’s all going to be fine,” I tell her.
She frowns at me. “What if they come out here?”
“They won’t find him, and they’ll go home.”
“No. What if they come to look for me?” she asks, her big blue eyes filled with worry.
