by Kate Hall
She’s gonna take you home and slice you up, they say.
Too late to run, nowhere to hide.
Tell everyone goodbye.
The air is sticky with darkness, pushing and pulling, looking for holes in the blanket to seep through. Invisible fingers prod at the too-thin fabric. She holds her breath and does her best not to move. Arthur growls, his feathers raising as he bares his small yet sharp teeth. She counts to ten, but the voices don’t stop. The darkness doesn’t stop.
A shudder runs through her despite Arthur’s body heat. At least, it starts as a shudder, but the shaking doesn’t stop, and now she can’t breathe, and she knows that maybe if she moves out from under the covers to let the cool air hit her that it’ll be better, but of course she can’t do that because then that horrible darkness will get to her, will take her away.
The shaking intensifies, and she should be crying, but no tears are escaping her body.
Within moments, her door opens, and she clenches her fingers in Arthur’s feathers. The voices are gone, and so is the darkness. Just like that. Her loneliness and fear must be affecting her. The image of Kendall on the floor dying floods her mind once again.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Gabby whispers, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder through the blanket. Another weight shifts the bed behind her, a familiar campfire smell reaching her senses, and she can feel Alex’s body heat through the comforter. He burrows in with her and wraps her in his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.
“I don’t wanna die,” she whispers, and her breath snags at the back of her throat. Tears finally begin to fall from her eyes. She burns with shame at her fear, but she can’t stop herself from letting out loud sobs that wrack her whole body.
His arms tighten around her, and Gabby runs her fingers through her hair to whisper a calming spell. Sarah knows that this is just a way for Gabby to not just feel her emotions, but to take them into herself. It must be agony, but she can’t bring herself to stop her. Sarah has never been good with her emotions, and she can cry for hours once she gets started, but Gabby has a way of turning this pain into tiny little freckles instead—one freckle for every piece of pain that she’s absorbed for someone else. It’s the purest, saddest kind of magic.
She has a lot of freckles.
Sarah can’t even imagine having to carry all that around.
From there, it only takes a moment or two for the tremors to slow, and she only shakes a little every few seconds. Cool air rushes in, and the antiseptic hospital smell that Alex carried in with him penetrates her senses. There are worse things to worry about, but her nose crinkles at the scent.
“You smell weird,” she whispers, her voice barely making it out. He still hears her, and he laughs quietly. There’s nothing funny about today, but the release is something they all need right now.
“I look weirder,” he says. She lets go of Arthur’s feathers so that she can turn over. This earns her an angry squawk, and he clambers out of the bed to go lie in the fireplace, which is now covered in the flowers he collects from the magical garden out front. She buries her face in Alex’s chest, but instead of wearing his St. Merlin’s uniform or a t-shirt, he’s clad in the ugliest shade of green scrubs that she’s ever seen.
“You look and smell weird,” she agrees. Her eyelids are heavy from all the crying, but at least she can breathe again.
With her emotions dulled, Sarah is thankful for this moment. Lying in bed with the two people who care about her the most is more than she could’ve ever hoped for when she first moved here. Penny hadn’t even checked up on her, although the murders have made national news at this point. She must know that Sarah is involved in this, yet she doesn’t care.
Here, in this moment, Sarah is okay. She’s not going to die tonight. Kendall is going to survive. With the world crashing down outside, this room, a little utopia, feels like the perfect end. Gabby and Alex stay with her until she falls asleep, and she doesn’t dream.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alex
ALEX STAYS WITH HER, TEXTING HIS PARENTS AS soon as Sarah is asleep.
I’m not gonna make it home this week. Sort of an emergency. See you over winter break. Love you guys!
They know about the murders, of course, but they aren’t aware of his involvement. If they were, they’d probably force him to come home. He has to be here, though. He’ll do everything in his power to protect his friends. Gabby’s parents are taking her to Chicago for the weekend to visit Rudy, so he can’t possibly go home and leave Sarah alone, not until he knows Gabby will be here for her.
Saturday morning, when she finally wakes up, Sarah is catatonic. He tries to coax her into eating some scrambled eggs, but she just rolls over and buries herself in blankets. Gabby left late last night, so he has no way to comfort her. Not in the magical sense, at least. Her thoughts are so faint that he can’t hear even a whisper of her mind.
Police are still swarming the property, combing through the woods, placing trackers, setting spells. It seems like they don’t really know what they’re doing. The lead detective, who has a base set up in the living area on the newer side of the house, keeps running her hands through her hair in frustration every time someone says something over the two-way radio hanging from her neck. She glares at Alex when he brings the plate back into the kitchen.
“Um,” he says eloquently. “Do you want some eggs? They buy them farm fresh.”
She rolls her eyes and turns around, listening to something else on the radio. Rinse and repeat. Alex digs through the cabinets. He’d tried making Sarah something healthy, but now he’s just concerned about whether or not he can get her to eat at all.
He grabs an unopened pack of Oreos and pours her a glass of chocolate milk—they’d gotten into an argument on the way to Gabby’s house about this very subject a few weeks ago, and she was aggressively in favor of chocolate milk instead of two percent for dipping her Oreos.
When he goes back to her room, she’s gravitated to an almost-sitting position, petting Arthur as he licks her face. Tears shine on her cheeks, but she holds no expression.
“I got you snacks,” he says, holding up the glass of milk. A small smile finds its way to her lips, but not her eyes. “I thought we might watch cartoons. Netflix has Avatar.”
“That sounds nice,” she whispers, her voice rough. Alex gets his tablet out of his backpack and loads up the show. They only take one break for lunch, and Sarah actually eats some mac and cheese, but otherwise finish just over a season in one day. Sarah lies on Alex’s chest, and he has to hold the tablet at a weird angle, but it’s nice to have this day, even though the circumstances that led them here are far less than ideal.
Arthur has taken to jumping off the high bed, holding his wings out to glide to the ground with significantly less grace than a calf learning to stand for the first time. With every crash, though, he scrambles back on the bed and tries again. Just once, he lands on the armchair and squawks, lifting his head high and proud, his developing red feathers pricking up past the back of his head. His flight feathers are new and flimsy, but effective.
“Good job, bud,” Sarah croaks, tossing him an Oreo.
“What color?” Alex asks her, running his fingers through her hair, softly brushing out a few tangles.
“Orange. Really bright orange.” She’d explained the color system for Arthur’s emotions, but no matter how hard he tries, Alex’s telepathic powers just don’t work on the dragon.
“He’s gonna be the size of a horse by winter break,” Alex says, scratching him on his chin when he clambers back up the bed. “I think he has more feathers today than he did yesterday.
“Probably,” Sarah replies.
When the sun is streaming orange through the blinds, Arthur’s feathers raise along his back—one of the squad cars’ sirens begins blaring an instant later, and Alex goes to the window to investigate. Arthur starts howling at the sound. There are uniformed officers running to the three cars out front, and Detecti
ve Harris is talking into her radio.
“What’s going on?” Sarah asks, her voice louder than it’s been all day. “Arthur, hush.” At the command, Arthur closes his mouth and lies on the bed, but his feathers are still pricked.
“I’m not sure.” He looks to her, and she’s already curling up under the blankets. “I’ll find out.”
The front is absolute chaos—the first car peels out of the driveway, spraying gravel everywhere. It’s a miracle that no windows are broken in the fray. Police are shouting over each other, and a man in an official-looking uniform is standing on the porch with Detective Gonzales, barking orders to the uniformed officers. Elizabeth and Mark are talking to Gonzales, so Alex approaches what must be the captain.
“What’s going on?” Alex asks, standing up straighter to seem less nervous.
The man looks him up and down and then says, “Helen Jackson has been spotted on the other side of the city. The FBI has her.”
Alex’s relief is palpable. It’s over. She’s caught. Every ounce of tension rushes out of him in one breath. He looks to Elizabeth and Mark, who look just as happy as he feels. Tears are swimming in Mark’s eyes.
Alex runs back in and tells Sarah the news, and she jumps up and throws her arms around his neck to kiss him. He melts into her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.
It’s over it’s over it’s over. Her thoughts are loud and joyous, louder than he’s ever felt. Mark comes in, and they pull apart. He’s bouncing like a little kid, which is an odd sight for a thirty-something math professor.
“We’re going out to dinner to celebrate. Anywhere you guys want.” He runs out before they can respond.
After they finally decide on a restaurant, Alex drives back to his dorm to change into something nicer than day-old scrubs. The only nice thing he has is his blue suit from the dance. Why the hell not?
He takes his blue and pink striped flag pin off his coat and puts it on his blazer lapel. When he and Mark lock eyes at the expensive steakhouse, Mark laughs. He steps out of the way to reveal Sarah in her fall formal dress and a pair of navy stilettos he’s never seen before.
Alex has never eaten at a restaurant nicer than Applebee’s, so this is sort of a culture shock. The restaurant is downtown, and a modern-looking crystal chandelier drips from the ceiling in the foyer. An attendant seats them the moment they walk in, past mostly old white men in suits and the occasional young couple. The light is low, emanating from lanterns that dot the restaurant, floating just above everyone’s heads.
They sit at a cozy booth in the corner, their server attending to their every need. They’re probably the loudest table, excitedly chatting over each other. When the bill arrives, Elizabeth chokes on her drink before putting her debit card in the check holder. Mark has to pat her on the back awkwardly. Sarah’s head is resting on Alex’s shoulder, and their hands are intertwined under the table.
“Hey, Alex, where can I get one of those pins?” Mark asks between bites of the chocolate cake their all sharing.
Alex nearly forgot about it and blushes. Pretty much everyone knows he’s trans, although he and Sarah have never expressly discussed it.
“My mom found it on Etsy,” he replies, keeping his eyes on Mark. “It’s, um, the trans pride flag.”
Mark nods. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been looking for something like that for a while. Can you have your mother send me the link?”
“I should get a bi one,” Sarah says. “Oh, and a lesbian one for Gabby! Do you know if they have those?” And just like that, the tension is gone from his shoulders. Alex texts his mom for the name of the Etsy store, and she responds when they’re standing by their cars, parked next to each other in the fifteen-dollar garage that Mark paid for them to be in. They ogle the pins, and Mark ends up ordering a bunch for what seems like everyone he knows. The night is cold, so Sarah is wearing Alex’s suit jacket. The city is filled with the energy of the thousands of people that live there, and the electricity makes Alex giddy.
Sarah rides home in Alex’s car, hand on his thigh and head on his shoulder, although it can’t be comfortable with the console between them.
When they’re caught at a light just before the interstate, she leaves a feather-light kiss on his neck. “I love you, Alex,” she breathes.
His heart stops, but the light turns green before he can say anything. It’s a Saturday night, so a car honks at him when he hesitates. As he pushes his foot on the accelerator, merging seamlessly onto the busy highway, he replies, “I love you, too.” He’s never said that to anyone before, not in this context, anyway. The fire inside him blazes, and sparks out of his fingertips the same way it does when he gets back to the city after summer, the same way it does when he manages to pass all his end-of-year exams.
She places the softest kiss against his neck, her hot breath giving him goosebumps. His eyes well up with tears, but he doesn’t let them fall. God, he’s so emotional. He keeps his eyes on the road and gets her home as quickly as possible.
Yesterday had been the worst day of his life. Somehow, though, today is the greatest. Funny how that works.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gabby
GABBY HAD BEEN ELATED WHEN SARAH CALLED with the news about Helen’s capture Saturday night. Throughout the rest of the evening, she’d sent pictures of her and Alex hanging out, so Gabby hadn’t felt terrible about not being there. With all the updates, she had practically been with them.
Now, though, she’s an anxious mess. The entire drive back to St. Louis on Monday evening, Kelly’s words play over and over in her head. I don’t think we should date anymore. Kelly had come to the hotel just to tell her that. Tears stream down Gabby’s face, but her parents don’t look back to check on her. As long as they don’t see her falling apart, she’ll be okay.
The trunk of the car is filled with as much of Rudy’s luggage as they could fit—he’s coming home next weekend, so their parents thought it would be more efficient to bring some of his stuff back now.
What if Gabby ruins him? She’s been an absolute disaster lately, and his hospitalization had been from being around other people’s volatile minds. Her’s isn’t exactly stable.
That’s ridiculous, though. She tries to convince herself that he will be okay around her. They can balance each other out, like they always have.
Shouldn’t date anymore.
There’s a text on her phone, one she’s refused to open but hasn’t deleted. I’m sorry. I think you and I both knew this wasn’t going to work out. Of course Gabby hadn’t known that. Why would she be in a relationship with someone she isn’t certain about?
She can keep her semblance of control. She has to. When she gets home in twenty minutes, she can hide upstairs and sob like usual. Not here, though. She opens a relaxation app on her phone, one Sarah recommended last weekend when she’d caught Gabby having an anxiety attack in the bathroom. It’s supposed to work her through breathing exercises, but it doesn’t help. She scrolls through Instagram, but it’s no different than the last time she checked it seven minutes ago.
Panic claws at her like a beast in a cage, but she keeps her distance. She wishes that this were a healthy method of staying calm, but it just drains all of her energy used to keep out other people’s emotions.
Just keep it together until we get home. The house is only seventeen minutes away now. It can’t be that hard.
Moments after they cross into the city, the traffic comes to a stand still. Not only does this lengthen their journey, but Gabby is flooded with the emotions of the people in the nearest cars. Instead of flashes and hints, there are full-on attacks. Hot anger from someone too impatient to wait. Frustration. Sadness. Fear. Sickness. Anxiety. Anger, anger, anger. So many angry people.
It’s hours before they make it. They’re mere miles away, but it’s late when they get to their neighborhood.
When they pull into the driveway, she’s shuddering, and can her stomach keeps clenching and unclenching. She has to ju
mp out of her dad’s pickup so she doesn’t puke all over the leather seats. Instead, she throws up in her mother’s beloved year-round dandelions, which change color with the season. Now that the days are shorter and the temperatures are lower, they’re a pale, icy blue, and she’s vomiting on them. Ruining them. Like she ruins everything.
Her parents leap out of the truck, but she can’t focus on them as tears blur her vision. She can’t breath, because every time she tries to take in a breath, her stomach empties again, and it doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to stop, and she’s on her knees in her favorite—now ruined—gray sweater dress that she wore to their fancy lunch earlier this afternoon. The night brings with it a frigid cold, so she’s trembling, barely holding herself up.
For the first time since Gabby came out as gay, her mother wraps her arms around her, rubbing her back and assuring her that she’s going to be alright. Gabby wants to hug her mother back, but she’s viscerally aware that she’s covered in the contents of her stomach, and Mom shouldn’t have to wear ruined clothes, too.
“It’s hard, Mama,” she says. Her voice is scratchy from the acid, and her tears now run freely, fat and frigid.
“I know, sweetie, I know. It’s going to be okay,” Mom whispers back. “Everyone is on edge. It’s over now, though.”
“Kelly broke up with me.” A sob bursts out of her when she says it out loud. It hasn’t been real until now, until she gave it a voice.
Her mom pulls her in tighter. “I’m so sorry. That must be hard.” Her tone isn’t forced or distant, and Gabby lets herself cry in her mother’s arms, just like she used to when she was little and scraped her knees or got a splinter.
After a few minutes, the cold has numbed them both, and Gabby shakily stands, a fawn finding its legs. Her father leads her into the downstairs guest bathroom, and when Mom gets back with a robe and towels, she helps her wash the puke out of her hair, like when Gabby was just a kid and she’d be up all night with the flu. Gabby isn’t even embarrassed about her mom washing her hair while she sits in her bra and underwear under the hot water—she can’t remember the last time Mom touched her.
