34. Jael
Here She Comes Again - Royksopp
T he city feels more alive than I’ve ever felt it as Bront? and I eventually flee the scene of the burning hospital. We wander the dark streets and pause long enough to watch the police cars zip by, red and blue sirens ringing. We pass by a boulevard lined with bars and restaurants and my heart flutters spotting the breaking news on the TVs through the windows.
brEAKING NEWS: Patients Escape the Brighter Days Psychiatric Hospital - Some May Be Considered Dangerous
And then no less than five minutes later…
brEAKING NEWS: Brighter Days Psychiatric Hospital in Flames - Suspected Arsonist at Large
My phone buzzes in my hand as we ride the subway and the train jostles down the dark tunnel. It’s another alert, this time my favorite of all.
I smirk and nudge Bront?, who towers over me, one of his thick arms above his head as he grips the steel pole on the subway car. He’s earned a few odd looks from the other riders, but nobody dares question the muscly, six-foot-seven guy in a minotaur mask, covered in blood and ash.
“It’s me,” I giggle. I double tap my screen to bring up the news article linked to the alert. My photograph comes up on the screen, right beside the long paragraphs of text explaining I’m the suspect on the run. “Wow, I guess they finally see me. I’m glad they at least used a flattering photo.”
Bront? shakes his head as if he can’t believe me, but deep down he’s amused in his own way.
A chorus of pings, chimes and buzzes go off around the subway car. One by one the riders seem to glance at the alerts on their phones and then up at me and Bront?. Comprehension slowly dawns on their faces as they recognize me and realize I’m the girl in the article.
The one that Easton PD believe set the fire at the psychiatric hospital—and a whole bunch of other stuff too.
Apparently, over the past couple weeks, they’ve been hard at work piecing together the spat of bodies they’ve been finding and have realized maybe it wasn’t the Cleaver after all.
Maybe it was a harmless enough looking young woman who had recently been discharged from the hospital for good behavior.
“C’mon,” I mutter to Bront? when we reach the next stop. “These people have a staring problem.”
I wrap my arm around his thicker, meatier one and we’re the lone passengers to get off. Nobody else dares move. But they damn sure watch us go.
It’ll probably be a matter of minutes before they alert the authorities.
I don’t really care. Not anymore.
I tried behaving myself. I tried being the good girl, listening and obeying and doing what they said I should do. Where did that end up getting me?
Dr. Wolford used our therapy sessions to take advantage. He used them to make me feel like I was losing my mind.
Almost everybody else was either cruel or judgmental. They were Winston trying to get me to sleep with him for a job and the people at the Midnight Society betting on people like race horses.
They were the people right now in the subway station gawking at me like I’m a freak. Can’t a girl walk down the platform with her bloody, minotaur-masked boyfriend without people staring?
A cop stationed by the platform rushes toward me and Bront?, apparently recognizing us from all the alerts. He doesn’t get anywhere near me before Bront? uses his brute strength to snatch the guy by the neck and slam his face into a brick wall.
He crumples to the ground with his baton limply in his hand.
We ride the escalator like any other couple would, arms linked, and once on the city street outside, we head toward our next stop.
A townhome where someone who’s practically become an old friend lives. Even if she has no idea about me and we’ve never officially met.
Imani Makune is in her bedroom packing up her suitcase when we climb the fire escape and peek through her window. The curtains are sheer enough, a slide part down the middle, that we’re able to watch her throw things into her suitcase. She leaves the room a moment later to grab more things.
I lift my leg, hooking it over the window ledge to climb inside. Bront? moves to stop me but I give him a look of reassurance.
“I’ve got this,” I tell him. “Be my backup.”
Continuing the little game I’ve been playing with her, I place a memento from our time at the Midnight Games on top of her suitcase—the same kitchen knife that had been used to kill several of the Society guests. I have just enough time to slip behind the curtain before she returns clutching a toiletry bag.
She senses something off almost immediately. Her body goes rigid as her gaze falls on the contents of her suitcase and she notices the blade. Looking up to the window, the sheer curtains flutter, barely concealing me.
“I know you’re here,” she says. “I know you’ve been watching me.”
She pads closer to my silence, then she picks up in stride, seemingly concluding I’m the person she’s been looking for.
I’m my sister.
“It’s you,” she says, wrenching the curtain aside. “Girl, where the fuck have you been? How could you ghost me?”
A smile twists onto my lips as we finally meet face to face. I step forward and she eases back, her brows knitting.
“Who are you?” she whispers.
I hold out my hand to shake hers. “The name’s Jael. I’ve been following you for a very long time. I’m looking for my sister.”
“You—” she starts and then stops in shock. “You were at Hurst Manor? You were the one watching me?”
“I needed answers. You were searching for them.”
“You made me think… you made me think I was losing my mind!”
“I was protecting my sister,” I answer plainly. “You’ve been going around claiming your her best friend. I’m her sister. I’m her best friend!”
“Bullshit! Lyra never even mentioned you. Did you know that? Guess who she would call when she needed someone? Where were you? Did you even care when she disappeared?”
In a flash, the vicious and ugly jealousy consumes me. It twists through me like a snake and I can feel the poisonous venom leaking into my bloodstream. The sheer impulse that rises up so high and begs me so desperately to hurt her—snatch that knife off the bed and slash her throat for saying what she has.
But then I breathe. I take in a sharp breath and blink, doing what Dr. Wolford and Nurse Big Bird advised in moments like this. I count backwards from ten and take a moment to center myself. Remind myself that hurting Imani won’t solve my problem. It won’t help find my sister.
“Please tell me what you know,” I say, forcing calmness into my tone. “I need to find her.”
Imani scoffs. “You think I’m going to help you? You’re insane. You need help. Get the fuck away from me.”
A soft sigh leaves me. The only signal that he needs.
The floor creaks under the sudden heavy weight of Bront? as he climbs through the window and lands upright. His massive frame looms over both of us, the sharp edges of the minotaur mask covering his face while the dark horns jut out the sides of his head.
Imani spends a second eyeing him and then she screams.
Where my sigh alerted Bront?, her frantic scream does the same for the men she has with her.
Feet pound the hallway floor outside the bedroom. Two men appear in the doorway at the same time, both dressed in black, both formidable in their own right.
I recognize them immediately as two of the wardens at the games—Ryu Kimura and Archer Hurst, son of the Hostess.
“What the fuck is—” Archer cuts himself off once he scans the room, spotting not only me but the massive hulk of muscle behind me. “Wolford,” he says simply, then he smirks in cocky fashion. “I thought I told you to stay out of my way… if you want to live.”
Imani shudders like she’s been shocked by a jolt of electricity. Really, she’s just shocked. “You two know each other?! What the fuck is going on!?”
“Bront? Wolford,” says Ryu with a reserved nod. His expression is otherwise unreadable. “You were in the maze.”
“We’re here for answers,” I declare over all of them. I even stomp my foot in impatience. “I need to find my sister!”
“She’s gone, don’t you get it?” snaps Imani. “Lyra’s not coming back! What do you think the suitcase is for? I’ve… I’ve had to start moving on. Maybe you need to too…”
“My sister’s still alive!”
“Maybe,” answers Ryu with a stroke of his goatee. “But if she is, she’s not coming back to Easton.”
“This you?” Archer chimes in, holding up his phone. It’s pinged with the same alerts hitting everyone else’s phone in the city. The breaking news that the Cleaver’s no longer the only dangerous psycho on the run.
I’ve joined the club.
“I’d advise you to take a page from your sister’s book and get the hell out of here,” Archer says, sticking both hands in his pants pockets. “As for us, we’ll be departing within the hour… unless you’re here to try and stop us.”
He peers over at Bront? as he speaks, the tension ratcheting up in the room. Bront? merely takes a step forward in acknowledgment, making it clear he won’t be backing down.
I interject before the situation can escalate into a male pissing contest.
“All I wanted was my sister,” I mumble.
A slow frown comes to Imani’s face as if she’s finally sensing a solidarity between us. One we’ve both refused to acknowledge until now.
“Everybody has a reason why they do what they do. We should probably accept so did Lyra. I’m leaving with Archer and Ryu to the Isle of Hurst—we’re going to claim the estate and make it our own. You know, after everything that went down. You and your, um, minotaur should probably figure out your own way forward.”
“Immediately before those pesky police track you down and throw the cuffs on you. Then you really won’t be seeing your sister,” adds Archer. “I’ll tell you what—my family’s private jet. It’s yours to use. Consider it evening the score after, well…”
He gestures to his face as if he were wearing the mask Bront? is.
I glance over my shoulder at him for his input. He’s remained stoic and silent as always, though he looks down and meets my gaze. His dark forest green eyes tell me all I need to know.
Bront?’s not going anywhere. He’ll follow me into the dark, my shadow to the end.
I sigh as my mind suddenly feels heavy and sirens wail miles away. I’m at a crossroads and it seems my next choice will decide the rest of our lives…