“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“This is a regular Thursday at The Bar. Welcome to town.” She smiled brightly, but it looked more like a grimace. “If you want to go out back, there’s a door right there you can use. It’ll lead you to the alley, but if you make a quick right, you’ll be out in the street.”
“Will you have to call the cops?”
“On them?” She looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“I don’t know, on the entire group involved in the fight.”
Hailey scoffed. “They’ll probably arrest me before they arrest them.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I looked back at the brawl, which was still going, but now it was a screaming match between Logan’s friend that looked like Thor and some other guy.
“Their money talks. Mine makes me a mute.”
“Oh.” I blinked. I definitely understood that even if I hadn’t been on the mute side of things. “Well, yeah, I think I’ll go out the back way then.”
I set some money down for the drink I had as I stood and gathered my things. Once I’d made my way to the back door, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. As I did, Logan’s gaze lifted and met mine. He looked absolutely furious, but at least this time I knew it wasn’t with me. As I opened the door to the back, brittle air shot straight to me. I shut the door behind me and zipped my jacket all the way up, looking up and down the alley. There were two brightly lit streetlamps, so it wasn’t dark out here, but it was still much darker than I felt comfortable with. I idled by the door a little longer, looking up and down the alley once more. Finally, I heard a group of people, girls laughing, guys talking, and I sprinted in that direction. When I got to the populated sidewalk, I caught my breath and joined the herd of people walking in the direction of my apartment building.
The guy walking directly in front of me was swaying on his feet, obviously drunk, between two girls who looked like they were sharing the same fate as him. As I absently listened to their conversation, I pulled out my phone and re-read my brother’s text messages. This is not a drill jumped out at me.
“Yo, what is that?” the guy in front of me said loudly. “Is that a person?”
“I don’t see anything,” one of the girls responded.
“Brent is drunk,” the other said.
“I’m drunk but I’m not crazy,” he said. “You don’t see that?”
“No, Brent,” one of them whined.
“Shut up already,” the other added, also whining.
I put my phone back in the pocket of my bag and looked around, searching for whatever it was drunk Brent was seeing that nobody else was. The streets were crowded. Students were pouring out of bars and onto the pavement, joining the herd. Brent jerked to a stop suddenly. I was staring at the back of his head and still bumped into him. The person behind me bumped into me. I opened my mouth to complain, when Brent lifted his arm up and pointed.
“There,” he shouted. “Does nobody see that?”
My gaze followed in the direction of his pointer. I stood on the tips of my toes, placing a hand against Brent’s back to steady myself. I didn’t know the guy, but I was sure he wouldn’t remember this tomorrow and I needed to see what he saw. In the midst of the crowd that had overflowed onto the street, there were two people walking in blood-red cloaks. People shouldered past them, without hesitation, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“What are they doing?” I asked, forgetting my face was so close to Brent’s ear. He whipped around so quickly, I had to step back to keep from falling over.
“You see them?”
“Of course I see them.”
“Does nobody else think this is weird?” he yelled.
“Dude shut up,” some random guy said.
“They’re in a society. They’re hunting for new members,” another added.
Anticipation coiled deep in my belly. How would they choose? What society was it? Was it the one Lana had been investigating? And why did they call it hunting? It was just as Hailey had said, they did things in broad view of everyone and nobody seemed to care. They were used to it. The rest of the way home, I was all up in my thoughts, wondering what would happen if I went up to one of those people and asked questions. Maybe I’d wait until it was daylight. The crowd thinned out as we walked, everyone going their separate way toward their buildings. I could see the navy blue awning that hung over the main door of my building as I stood on the side of the street, waiting to cross, and knew I was almost home free. I wondered if Celia was there or if she was staying at her boyfriend’s again tonight.
Loud female laughter rang out on the otherwise silent street as I reached my building, and I noticed there was a group of people standing beneath the street light on the other side, at the entrance to the park. My hand reached into my purse in search of my keys as I kept my gaze on them. I could make out four guys and three women. One of the guys was letting out a cloud of smoke while passing something to the next, a joint, I presumed. The fourth guy was standing a few steps away from the rest of them, leaning against the black fence. All of the guys were wearing black and had similar builds, but I knew from the way my stomach clenched, and his height, and the way his hair was slicked back like that, I knew it was Logan, and even though I couldn’t make out his face entirely from where I was, I knew that he was staring right at me.
How had they gotten here before me? Last I saw them, they were all in the middle of a brawl at the bar. One of the women broke away from the rest of the group with the joint in her hand and walked over to him, lifting it as an offer. He shook his head. She stood closer, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing against him. He didn’t take his eyes off mine as she did this and my heart pounded furiously at the sight. Why was he looking at me? Why was I still standing there, looking at him? My feet couldn’t seem to move for a full minute. When her hand snaked its way down his chest and onto his southern region, I forced myself to break away and practically ran into my building.
I rushed to the elevator and hit the button quickly, as if being chased, and made my way to my apartment with the same enthusiasm. Why were they hanging out across the street? Didn’t they have somewhere more . . . private they could go to? When I got to my apartment, I called out for Celia but got no response. Of course, she wasn’t home. After making sure all of the windows were closed and switching off some lights that had been left on, I went to my room and walked over to the window. My hands shook as I lifted them to the blackout curtains and began to pull them shut. I looked outside one last time, but they were all gone.
Chapter Five
I awoke to the news that my brother had been rushed to the hospital. Instead of waiting around to hear any details, I shoved some things into a bag and ran out of my apartment. Fuck my classes and the orientation I was hoping to sneak into. The thought of Lincoln, alone, in a hospital room, was making me sick. I was rushing out of the building when I nearly bumped into Logan. Again. This time, I had the mind to look up just as he pushed away from the revolving door and walked inside. He took one look at me and frowned. God knows what the hell I must have looked like, makeup-less and riddled with worry.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing.” I shoved myself into the revolving door and picked up the pace toward the black SUV that awaited me on the corner. Why didn’t they park directly in front of the building?
“Hey,” he called out.
I halted in my steps and turned around to see Logan jogging up to me. It was then that I noticed how sweaty he was, his dark hair sticking to the sides of his face before he pushed it back. He was wearing basketball shorts and a Toronto Raptors t-shirt that looked like he’d cut the sleeves off himself to make it a muscle tee. He’d probably just gotten in from a run. Under any other circumstances, I might’ve considered that he looked really hot right now, but my mind was overloaded with the flight I needed to catch and my brother’s state. I hadn’t even bothered to ask my mother what happened. I hear
d—Lincoln, hospital, in her grief-stricken voice, and I ran. I’d bypassed dad and called his favorite pilot and driver myself, not wanting to waste any time. Surely, Dad had told them picking me up was okay though, otherwise they wouldn’t have shown up.
“Yeah?” I asked impatiently, because Logan was just standing there staring at me.
“Where are you running off to?”
“I can’t talk right now.”
The door to the building swung and a woman stepped out. I watched as she walked toward us.
“I was wondering where you ran off to this morning,” she said, her voice a coo.
“I told you I don’t stay over,” he said, his voice gruff. “What the fuck are you doing out here anyway? I’m trying to have a conversation with someone.”
“Oh.” She blinked and looked over at me. “I hadn’t seen your little friend there.”
“I have to go,” I said, turning around.
I didn’t have time for this bullshit. I ran to the SUV, climbing inside and shut the door. I said hello to the driver and turned in my seat as I pulled the seatbelt across my chest. Logan and the woman were still standing on the sidewalk. He was now typing into his phone, completely ignoring her as she held onto his arm. She seemed to be begging him for attention, but he wasn’t having it. I turned and faced forward as we drove off. Whatever was happening back there was none of my concern.
* * *
“What happened?” I ran straight to my mother when I got to the sixth floor of the hospital.
One of the nurses had personally escorted me there. Apparently, the sixth floor was one nobody spoke of, where celebrities often were treated but never talked about. Mom stood from her chair and met me halfway, opening her arms for me as I reached her. That alone scared the fuck out of me. Mom wasn’t the most affectionate person. To her, limited affection was key to a successful being. It was one of the many outcomes she’d come up with during the extensive studies she’d done on human interactions. It was an idea my father always frowned upon, being that he came from a family of huggers and over-affectionate people and had obviously turned out just fine.
“What happened?” I pulled away. “Where’s Lincoln?”
“Oh, Amelia.” Her voice cracked, tears filling her green eyes as she looked at me briefly before pulling me into her again. “He’s gone. Lincoln is gone.”
If there was ever a time when I would have fainted, it would have been then, in my mother’s arms, in the middle of a sterile, quiet hospital. A fat tear rolled down my face, then another, and another, but my mind still couldn’t process those words or what they meant.
“What do you mean gone?” I croaked. “What does gone mean? Where did he go?”
Suddenly, her arms felt like cages that I needed to rip away from. I pulled away and stepped back, swaying on my feet.
“Where’s dad?” I asked. “What do you mean gone?”
“He’s dead.” She wiped her face.
I took a good look at her then. I’d never seen my mother without makeup. I’d never seen her wear anything outside of the house that wasn’t tailored to perfection and pressed. She was wearing green and blue checkered Polo pajamas. Pajamas. Out of the house. I’d never seen wrinkles or hair in disarray. I’d never seen grief so blatantly etched on her face. I stumbled back, this time, landing on my ass, and I sat there, on the hard, cold floor. Who was dead? My father? Lincoln was gone, had he killed him? No. He may have had issues with dad, but he wouldn’t resort to murder. Would he? I looked back up at mom, my pent-up confusion and pain rolled together as I wailed.
“Who’s dead? Who died?”
She took a shuttering breath as she walked over and crouched in front of me. I could see that she was doing everything in her power to calm down, to pull the perfect psychiatrist mask over her face in order to help me deal with this, but she couldn’t. Not when she obviously didn’t know how to process it herself.
“Your brother is dead,” she said slowly, taking a breath. “He killed himself last night.”
“No.” I shook my head, tears filling my eyes again.
“Yes.”
“No.” I continued shaking my head. “No.”
“Amelia,” she said softly. “Do you think I want to accept this? That my own son—” Her voice broke. “My own son . . . ”
“No.” I slapped the floor on either side of me. “He wouldn’t do that!”
“He did. He overdosed. He did.”
“He wouldn’t.” My brother was the ultimate health nut. He hated the mere idea of drugs. I stood quickly, pacing, walking down the corridor as I yelled. “Where is he? Where is he?”
“Amelia please,” Mom sobbed. I’d never seen mom sob. I’d never seen her cry—period.
“How?” My chin wobbled. My arms shook. “How could this happen? Weren’t you watching him? Aren’t you a fucking expert in this?”
It was unfair. I knew it even as I blamed her, but I couldn’t help it. My brother. My best friend. My . . . I started to sob, my shoulders shaking as I held myself together. He was a light in this world. Why would he want to extinguish it? How could he? It wasn’t possible. A door opened and shut loudly, and my head snapped up, fully expecting Lincoln to walk out of there. Lincoln, with a presence so massive, he’d take up an entire arena. Instead, it was my father.
“He’s not dead,” he said.
Mom and I both gasped loudly.
“How can that be? Felipe. He was dead. We saw him,” she said rapidly. “How? Did he—”
“They revived him. They revived him,” Dad said, and then he stumbled into the nearest chair, buried his face in his hands and started to cry. “Oh my God, that was so scary. Oh my God. I thought I lost him.”
Mom rushed over to him, taking the seat beside him and wrapping an arm around him. They cried together as I stood there. My brother wasn’t dead. They didn’t let me see him until the next day. When I walked into the room, he was attached to tubes, and needles were protruding from his skin. He looked frail and uncomfortable. It was just the two of us in the room when his eyes snapped open. I stood right beside him, holding his hand. His eyeballs moved to look at me. He looked scared, as if he was trying to tell me something, but couldn’t with the tube that was in his mouth.
“I’m going to call for the nurse,” I said.
His hand squeezed mine slightly. He shook his head no.
“But, Linc, I can’t do anything.” My hand shook over his. “I need to tell them to come—”
His hand squeezed again. He shook his head no.
“Why’d you try to kill yourself?” I asked, unable to keep from crying. I brought a hand up to wipe the tears from my face, but they kept coming.
He squeezed my hand again. Shook his head no, but his own eyes filled with tears.
I stared at him. “You didn’t try to kill yourself?”
He shook his head slightly.
“Why would . . . ” I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He started tapping on my hand. At first, I thought that was all it was, but then he tapped harder, squeezed harder, opened his eyes wider as if he needed me to pay attention. Morse code.
“Morse code?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the knot in my throat.
He nodded.
I took out my phone and opened my notepad, writing down all of the dots and dashes. I couldn’t remember the alphabet.
“I’ll have to translate this,” I said. He shot me an exasperated look. “I can’t remember the alphabet.”
His eyes twinkled and he made a noise from his throat, as if he wanted to laugh, and then fell into a fit. I hit the button for the nurse and stepped away when they rushed in. His entire body shook the bed and his eyes rolled back.
“What is happening?” I shouted. “What is happening?”
More nurses rushed inside. “Step back, he’s having a seizure.”
“Get her outside,” another shouted. Arms wrapped around me as they ushered me towards the door.
�
��Lincoln,” I yelled, fighting against the nurse. “Lincoln. I love you.”
Lincoln was forced into a coma that day. In twenty-four hours, I went from having a brother, to losing him, to having him again, but not quite.
Chapter Six
It wasn’t fair.
I walked around my parent’s house in a haze, with that thought in mind. It just wasn’t fucking fair. Travis wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head.
“You okay?”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. No, I wasn’t okay. My brother was in a coma. A medically induced coma, my father reminded me constantly. He was going to be okay. Mom had all of the scientific facts to back it all up, too. They’d flown in a doctor from Cleveland to treat him and nurses who worked strictly with coma-induced patients, to monitor him. Still. A coma meant I couldn’t speak to him, and he was my go-to person. Now, I was in my parent’s backyard, sitting on a chaise lounge, as the house filled with people from everywhere who had just attended the mass mom set up for him. Prayers for Lincoln’s full recovery, was what she’d asked for. Of course, I prayed too, but seriously? My brother was in a coma. They needed to get him out of it and let him heal while he was awake.
“Your parents said you may not go back to classes this semester,” he continued. Travis said I talked a lot, but he never seemed to mind voicing his opinions about my life. “Maybe you should come back to Duke. Finish school there.”
I didn’t respond.
“Mae. You need to talk to someone,” he said.
I continued to stare at the pool, where Lincoln and I took swimming lessons when we were kids. Where we hosted pool parties every year for his birthday, since it was at the end of May. Where he jumped in from the second-floor balcony of the house during a party we had while our parents were out of town and broke his nose. I felt myself smile at that memory. Idiot Lincoln. And then just as quickly, I was crying again. God, I was so tired of crying. I wiped my face quickly and looked around at everyone here. Most were our neighbors, parent’s friends, Lincoln’s friends from high school. I spotted Lana’s parents, talking to dad. They all looked somber.
Half-Truths: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 5
