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“What kind of trouble?” I ask nervously. “‘Cause the sheriff was already up my ass this morning…”
Jude shows zero concern as he swigs his own cider. “What for?”
I fill him in, glancing back at the plague doctor who’s still standing at the edge of the square, his beak pointed right at me. I can’t help thinking that might be Dane.
Or Gideon…
When did he get to Grimstone? And where is he now? Could Dane really have hurt him?
Yes, of course hecould.The question is…wouldhe?
Emma’s right—there’s too many coincidences, too many accidents…
Somewhere deep inside my brain, a ghostly piano plays…
“I’m really starting to freak out,” I whisper to Jude.
“Ah, Gideon’ll turn up. He’s probably drunk in some bar, boo-hooing ‘cause you won’t take him back.”
“But what if someone hurt him?”
“Who?” Jude says, and I remember that I never even told him I was dating Dane. God, I’m such an asshole. Jude wouldn’t keep something like that from me.
If it turns out Dane really is dangerous, then that means I’ve put Jude at risk, too. And maybe Tom and Gideon as well…everything that’s happened would be my fault.
I gulp down my cider, my anxiety rising.
“Want to dance?” Selina asks Jude.
“Maybe later.” He pulls his mask down and disappears into the crowd.
“Sorry,” I apologize to Selina on his behalf. “He’s not really into dancing.”
“Your brother’s cute,” Emma says. “Too bad he’s a little shit.”
“Tell me about it.” I force a smile even though I don’t like Emma talking about Jude that way. He may be a shit, but he’smylittle shit—me and Jude against the world.
My chest burns and I feel a little unsteady on my feet—I must have drunk that cider too fast. Or the two drinks I had before.
“I better sit down for a bit,” I tell Emma.
“Sure.” She turns and dances closer to Selina instead.
I head to the side where Tom was sitting, but his hay bales are now occupied by four girls dressed as ninja turtles, with colored headbands, plastic weapons, and green miniskirts. Tom and his crutches are nowhere to be seen.
I stumble a little. A Mr. Bones in a glow-in-the-dark suit grabs my arm, helping to steady me.
“Thanks, Jude,” I mumble. “I’m not feeling too good…”
He helps pull me out of the suffocating press of people, into fresher air.
My legs are wobbly, and my feet seem encased in wet cement. Each step takes all my energy and focus until I can hardly see anything but the path a few inches in front of me.
The streetlights are fading. I’m walking through crunching leaves, over ground that’s no longer paved.
“Hey…” My voice comes out mushy. “Where are you—“
A second Mr. Bones appears at my other elbow, pulling me along with surprising strength. Each has a painful grip on my arm, and each, I realize with a sickening lurch, is a hell of a lot bigger than Jude.
