My breath comes out in panicked bursts. I clap both hands over my mouth.
Walden’s muscles stiffen, his eyes go lax, and his skin turns a sickly, dried-up gray.
A strange sound I don’t recognize comes from my lips, like I’m trying to scream but all I can manage is sharp, broken sobs.
Shepard corks the bottle and lets Walden fall discarded and very dead to the floor. A flurry of dust races into the air around him, frantic like it’s trying to reach for his soul and put it back into his body before it’s too late.
But his soul is in Shepard’s fist. Held captive. Never to be put back again.
Darnell slides his phone into his back pocket and starts for the exit. “You can find your own way home, right, doll?”
My arms flop to my sides.
“Gage has a hit on a beach house,” Darnell continues. “The timing is perfect.”
Shepard steps over Walden, like one would step over a pile of rocks, and falls into step beside Darnell. “We’ll be in touch.”
And they’re gone. Leaving me alone in the room with a dried-up body.
My knees give out from under me, and I collapse to the concrete, kicking up my own angry cloud of dust.
I try to speak. I try to say “I’m sorry,” as if that would mean anything to him now. But when I open my mouth, the only thing that comes out of me is tears.
Chapter Fifteen
When I step into my stone tent late the next day, the first thing I see is another appointment scrawled on a torn half sheet of paper in the center of the table. Five words have never looked so ugly in my life.
Midnight. Same Place. Be there.
Fuck no. I ball the paper up in my fist and squeeze it tight, so tight my knuckles pop and my fingers ache.
They’re not making me responsible for anyone else’s death.
Because this time, it really is my fault.
If I had just stayed out of the underground.
All the times Tessandra berated me for going. All the times she demanded that I stop and all but chained me down to keep me from going. This is my fault for not listening to her. Making me stubborn and stupid, like my mother.
Now I know exactly what kind of trouble she got herself tangled up in. Now I know why she was trying to run. Just like Marissa tried to run. And look where that got her. Dead, I’m sure, like her husband. I can only hope and pray to whatever listens that they left their daughter and Marissa’s sister alive.
My own memories aside, this is twice now that I’ve witnessed someone’s life being literally sucked out of their body. And the only thing Walden and Evangeline have in common are those guys, if I can call them that, and Renali.
I uncurl my fingers, and the wad of paper falls to my feet in ashes. I stare down at the bits of ash clinging to my skin.
Now, that’s strange. I press my hand to my cheek. It’s warm in the center. Very warm.
My curtain is pulled back, and Kalin steps into my room.
“Where did you go last night? We called you nearly a dozen times. You didn’t hear your phone going off? You didn’t get our texts?” Her eyes dance over my face. “What happened? Was it that guy from the underground? Garbage guy? Was he bothering you again?”
I rub my palm clean on my skirt and brush the ash residue off my cheek.
Kalin follows my motions. “Having a releasing ceremony in here? Hello? Tatum, are you sick?”
“I’m—”
She holds up a hand. “Don’t even try to say that you’re fine. You look like you made out with death last night.”
A lump catches in my throat, and a cramp seizes my insides. I collapse to my stool and hold a hand tight over my stomach.
“Tatum?” Kalin’s bottom lip trembles. “Please tell me what’s going on. It’s scary to see you like this.” She steps closer to me. “Is there something I can do?”
“No.” My voice grows hoarse from the effort it’s taking to keep a meltdown at bay. “Everything is fine, I promise. I’m still just dealing with the crap that Renali dragged out of me the other day.”
Relief rains over Kalin, relaxing her from the head down. She lets out a sigh and reaches out to rub her hand over my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I keep pestering you.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong. And nothing else is wrong. I’m just not as strong as people think I am.”
“No. You’re stronger.” She tries to smile and can only manage a microscopic one that fades almost instantly. “You really are.” Her eyes fall to the ash on the floor. She bends down and scoops the small mess into her hand. “Do you want to go down to the underground? It’ll offer a nice distraction.” She wipes her hands clean over my trash can. “I know garbage-boy is down there, but forget about him. There are plenty of great distractions, and I’m sure they miss you. Want to go for lunch? I’m sure Gretchen would be happy to take a client or two on her own.” She tries to smile again and gets halfway there.
“I can’t today.” I know avoiding the underground won’t help my case. It’s too late now. He’s been in my stone tent. He’s been in my bedroom. I can’t hide from them.
“I know we’re busy, but you can break for half an hour. Clear your head?”
My head will never be clear again.
“Sweetie…have lunch outside with me then? Let me pretend, at least, like I can help by distracting you with my boring life.”
“Fine.”
She opens her mouth to say more but quickly changes her mind. “Okay. I’ll come over and get you in an hour or so? Whenever it’s clear enough to squeeze out.”
I nod. “Great.”
She stares at me for a moment, squinting her eyes in worry. “Great.” She slips out.
And I sit and listen to the dull buzz of a lawnmower somewhere nearby. I listen and imagine the mower blade running over me and shredding me into pieces so tiny no one will ever find me.
Chapter Sixteen
Around each solstice and equinox, we decorate the shop top to bottom and front to back. Tessandra isn’t super big on it, and neither am I, but it means a lot to everyone else, and the results are stunning.
I hang around the back as they pull boxes down from the attic storage loft and organize the decorations on the counter.
Tessandra watches them with a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she collects the day’s receipts and prepares to leave.
She hasn’t said a word about last night. Hasn’t asked where I had run off to for hours. She’s treating me like everyone else. And I hate it.
Don’t you care? I feel like shouting. Don’t you care at all?
Gretchen tugs on my arm and tries to pull me away from the wall. “We’re getting pizza. What do you want?”
I manage a weary smile. “I’m really tired. I think I’m just going to lay down in the back.”
She pokes her bottom lip out. “You’ve been tired for days.” She narrows her eyes and scrutinizes my face. After a quick glance over her shoulder to see where her mother is, she leans in closer to me and whispers, “Where did you go last night? I’ve been meaning to ask you all day, but it’s been so crazy in here.”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you. I lost track of time.”
Her jaw tenses for a moment. Then she smiles. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What?”
“Is it Emmerick?”
“No!”
She laughs. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Tatum! You’re like my sister. Sisters tell each other everything.”
I’m too tired to laugh, but I feel my ill mood lifting just a bit. “No, they don’t.” I certainly didn’t tell my sister everything. Like how her lifeline was nonexistent.
Gretchen swats at my arm. “They do on TV.”
“When do you watch TV?”
“They were in that movie last night.”
I straighten up along the wall. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“But
if there was?” She lifts her eyebrows.
“If there was,” I say with a nod. And there will never be. Because the only thing I want is to be safe and left alone.
Gretchen smiles broadly. “Is it Emmerick though?”
I do let out a small laugh now. “What is wrong with you?”
She clasps her hands together under her chin. “Don’t you want to fall in love?”
“No. It sounds terrible.”
She laughs again. “I want to have like five children. I’m naming the first girl after you.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You have fun with that.”
A shadow falls along the floor beside me, and I startle away from it. Alarm shoots through Gretchen’s eyes.
But it’s just Tessandra.
Her eyes rest heavily on my face, but her tone is light and noncommittal. “Do you want me to drop you off at the house? You seem like you could use some time to yourself.”
Gretchen starts to protest but then snaps her lips closed when she remembers that she’s still not speaking to her mother. She turns her attention to me. “Don’t go. We won’t make you do anything.”
“Then I might as well not even be here.”
She glares over at her mom and leans in to give me a hug. “I love you.”
The words settle strangely against my heart as I hug her back. “I love you, too.”
She walks back to the center of the room and relays to everyone else that I’m leaving. A series of protests shoot up.
“Oh, fine,” Milly says lightly, waving me away. “It’s not like you ever do anything anyway but complain. What was it last year? Your toe hurt? The little pointless one?” She laughs with Cari, who stands across the counter from her putting order to a tangled string of blue stars.
“Yeah, get out of here!” Cari shouts playfully. “Take care of yourself.”
I smile and wave goodbye.
Kalin pauses halfway up the attic ladder and watches me for a moment, her eyes hard with concern. “Get some rest,” she says.
I nod and avert my eyes. I know she can’t reach into my mind, but I still feel exposed.
I follow Tessandra out to her car. Neither of us speaks.
She knows. She has to know. And she’s disappointed. I’m a failure. Which means she probably feels like she failed. In a way, she probably did. In her attempt to keep me from turning out like my mother, she smothered me. And apparently women in this family act out when they feel smothered. I’ll have to remember that, if the universe ever replaces my brain with a normal one and curses me with children.
“What do you mean by ‘drop me off,’” I ask when we get to the car.
Tessandra avoids my gaze. “I’m going out with Renali.” She unlocks the doors and slides down behind the wheel. “We’re going to a jazz club.”
“A jazz club?”
She smiles. A genuine one. “That makes me sound old, doesn’t it?”
“No.” Yes.
“It’s hard to believe I’ll be fifty in a few years.” She starts the engine and pulls slowly out of the darkened lot. “I used to think it was so old, but now that it’s almost here…” She shakes her head. “People always tell you that life goes by so fast, but it doesn’t, really. It feels like it was a lifetime ago that I was your age.”
“Well, it kind of was.”
Tessandra laughs. It’s so rare that she laughs.
“Well, I’m glad you’re going out,” I say. “You don’t go out enough.”
“It’s not something I enjoy.”
That’s not really surprising. But that’s one thing we have in common for sure. Neither of us really likes to be around other people.
“Did you talk to Gretchen last night?” she asks as she pulls up alongside the house. She puts the car in park but keeps the engine running.
I unlatch my seat belt and turn to look at her, really look at her. I always thought she was so old, but she’s right. In the last ten years, I’ve aged so much, and she’s stayed exactly the same.
“She’ll get over it,” I say, not bothering to elaborate further because there’s no need. “She’ll laugh about it when she’s older. Maybe.”
A small smile plays across her face. “She’s at that age. Young people don’t think straight at that age.”
“Do people ever think straight?”
She looks at me, and her smile broadens. “No. They really don’t.”
My brain latches onto that statement. She’s not accusing me of anything, I know, but guilt wiggles itself between my ribs. If Gretchen was hurt because of me, Tessandra would never really forgive me. She would say she did. And she would try. But it’s comments like that, said so casually, that make me wonder if she’s even forgiven her sister for getting herself killed. Or maybe I’m just reading too much into it.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asks.
“Sleeping, I hope.”
She nods. “Sleep well. I’ll be back late. Don’t burn the house down.”
“I will. Burn the house down, I mean.”
She smiles and shakes her head.
“Tell Renali ‘hi’ for me,” I say. I slide out of the car and into the cool, humid air.
“Will do.”
She stays on the curb until I shut myself inside the house. Then she drives away, moving at a snail’s pace, like she’s either watching me still or trying to put off going out with Renali for as long as she can.
Emmerick’s truck is missing once again. I’ve never seen the driveway and front of the house so empty. I lock the door.
It occurs to me that I’ve never been alone in this house before. Or any house. My chest tightens.
I don’t know what to do. I have the perfect opportunity to run around on the edge of town without anyone noticing that I’m gone. But if I go there…I keep my eyes glued to the quiet street outside.
No. I can’t watch someone else die like that.
I move away from the front door at last and check the back door. Long shadows hang over the patio. They could conceal anything. I check the lock twice. And then a third time.
Then I move on to checking the windows.
Halfway through this, the thought occurs to me that someone could already be in the house. So I start opening all the interior doors and peeking into all the corners. Flipping lights on and off again. Looking behind furniture and under beds and desks and tables.
When the last closet is checked, I take a deep breath and go back downstairs to the kitchen. Stop being ridiculous. I wipe my damp palms dry on my skirt and check the latch on the kitchen window again. It’s snug, just like the last time.
And Emmerick’s truck is parked outside.
Relief floods my chest. God, I’m such a baby.
I move over to the door that leads to the basement and rap gently against the green painted wood with my knuckle. “Emmerick, are you down there?”
I don’t hear anything, so I move my hand down to the knob and twist it. The door opens a fraction, and I peer into the dimness below. “Hello?”
The urge to check around in the basement for intruders is strong, but instead I shut the door and lean back against it. Surely it’s locked from the outside. I could go check, but if he caught me, I would feel like a stalker and an idiot. And if he isn’t outside somewhere, I’d only end up checking the entire house again.
Speaking of…it’s too quiet in here. In fact, it’s too quiet everywhere. I ease away from the basement door and draw closer to the front door, straining my ears for sound. We live on a quiet street, sure, but it’s not that late.
Silence hangs thickly in the air, like the sky over this street is holding its breath.
“Stop it,” I mutter. I need to stop this now.
I need to relax. I squint over at Emmerick’s truck. The cabin is empty. Where is he?
I shake my head and force myself to back away.
It doesn’t matter. I’m alone. This is what I wanted, right? To be alone? Except that I know if I don’t meet Shepard an
d that other guy at that warehouse again tonight, they’ll come here and get me.
At least Gretchen isn’t here. They’re usually decorating until well after midnight. Surely they wouldn’t grab her in front of everyone?
No. I get the feeling they’re pretty low profile.
I force myself into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water.
I lean back against the counter as I sip and stare out the clean little window. A car drives by, and for a moment, everything within me stops. But the car doesn’t slow.
Just the sight of it relaxes me though. I put my empty glass in the sink and move into the living room. It’s just after nine. I should have stayed at the shop. I’d feel a lot safer napping there than here. I’m exhausted enough to nap. My aching muscles are certainly begging for some sleep, but I doubt I’ll be able to relax.
Staying here really isn’t an option anyway. Watching them kill people I don’t know is bad enough. I don’t want to see anyone else I care about die. Not when I can do something about it.
Instead of dragging up the will to head back to the warehouse, however, I collapse to the couch. The worn cushions sink under me, cradling me in a false sense of security.
I pull out my phone and stare down at the black screen. Call Kalin and try to skate by or set the timer to wake myself up in case I fall asleep? Even if I can skate by tonight, what about the next night?
My eyes drift shut on their own accord, and I let my head rest against the back of the couch.
The phone slips from my fingers.
I try to focus my brain on the situation at hand, but it lolls sluggishly in my skull, forcing the world around me to fade away.
I stretch out on my side and let exhaustion win the fight.
But first I need to set the timer for an hour and half before midnight. That will give me time to wake myself up, shut my door upstairs so anyone who comes home will think I’m asleep, and hike across town to the warehouse. I won’t be on time, but I’ll be there close enough. They’ll just have to deal with it.
I drop a hand to the floor and feel around on the worn oriental rug for my phone. It can’t be too far.
My hand brushes against something solid and smooth.
No Rest for the Wicked Page 14
