Chapter 16 #2
This was just a coincidence, I told myself. Julian probably assumed that I was thinking about him because of all the crazy stuff that went down last night, and to be fair, he was right. I was thinking about him.
I sent another message. What did you do with Kane last night?
Julian: I took care of him, just like I promised. He won’t be bothering you again.
Me: What exactly do you mean when you say you ‘took care’ of him? It sounds really ominous. Did you take him to the hospital? Or…
I didn’t finish the last sentence. Just hit ‘send’ with the implication hanging there.
I waited ten minutes, but Julian never replied.
Dammit.
Despite the lack of response, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow looking at me right now. Watching me type. Reading over my shoulder.
That really should’ve scared the shit out of me.
Instead, it sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear, and as I stared at the screen, pulse fluttering in my throat, all I could think was how badly I wanted to know what Julian would do next.
My International Business Strategy professor ended the lecture fifteen minutes early, so I wound up at Cherry's door at 2:15. She answered on the first knock, grabbing my wrist and pulling me inside with barely-contained excitement.
“Perfect timing. I just got back,” she said, gesturing to an open duffel bag on her bed. Theater props and costume pieces had spilled out across her comforter. “Check this out. I raided the prop closet.”
I raised a brow. “Should I be worried?”
“Only if you're attached to your current hair color.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a large aerosol can that looked like industrial-strength hairspray.
“This is temporary lightening spray. It's what we use in productions when we need quick color changes between scenes. Washes out in two shampoos.”
I took the can from her, reading the label. “You want to make me blonde?”
“Blonde-ish,” she corrected, pulling her own hair forward to examine the color. “We need to look related, right?” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Unless you'd prefer option two.”
She pulled a wavy blonde wig from the bag with a theatrical flourish, holding it up like a crown.
I couldn't help but laugh. “That looks...”
“Super fake?” Cherry grinned. “Yeah, stage pieces don't always translate well to real life. The spray's probably better. Though I have to say, you'd make a pretty convincing blonde. It would really make your eyes pop.”
“Let's just stick with the spray,” I said. “I don't think I can pull off the wig.”
“Fair enough.” She tossed it back into the bag and grabbed a towel from her closet, draping it around my shoulders. “Bathroom? This stuff can get messy.”
Thirty minutes later, I was staring at my reflection in Cherry's full-length mirror, barely recognizing myself. My brown hair had lightened to a honey-blonde that caught the light when I moved, and I was surprised to see that it actually suited me. Cherry stood beside me, newly green-eyed thanks to colored contacts she’d ‘borrowed’ from the theater, and we'd both applied matching makeup—sharp black eyeliner with a subtle wing, nude lipstick, and just enough blush to look healthy but not overdone.
We could pass for cousins now. Easily.
“Final touch,” Cherry said, crossing to her desk. She opened a small wooden jewelry box, and I heard the clink of metal before she turned back to me, two delicate silver necklaces dangling from her fingers. Each had a simple 'C' charm.
“I told the facility our names are Caroline and Charlotte,” she said, her voice suddenly softer. Less playful. “These should help sell that.”
Something in her expression made me pause. “Were these—”
“Mine and Calista’s?” she cut in, voice hitching.
I nodded, and she went on. “Yeah, they were. I bought them a couple of weeks before she died, but when I showed them to her, I noticed the clasps were bent. Manufacturing defect or something. So I said I’d take them back to the jeweler and get them fixed.
” She swallowed hard. “I did, and I got them back about a week later. But by then..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
“Oh, Cherry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, cutting through the carefully applied makeup. She laughed shakily, swiping at it with her free hand. “God, I'm sorry. I keep doing this. Every time I think I'm okay, something just—”
“Don't apologize,” I said firmly, reaching for her. “You're allowed to fall apart sometimes. She was your best friend.”
“But you're her sister.” Cherry's voice cracked. “It's so much worse for you. So I really shouldn't be losing my shit every time we—”
“Stop.” I grabbed both of her hands, the necklaces pressed between our palms. “You loved her, and you're allowed to miss her. You're allowed to cry about her for as long as you want.”
Cherry's face crumpled, and for a moment I thought she might break down completely. But she took a shuddering breath and squeezed my hands instead, composing herself with visible effort.
“I think you should keep this one,” she said, pressing one of the necklaces into my palm. “You can say the C stands for Calloway. Plus, you know it was originally Calista’s, so maybe…” She hesitated, searching my face. “Maybe it’ll help you feel closer to her. Or do you think that’s totally corny?”
“No, I’d love to keep it. Thank you,” I said, my throat tight with emotion.
“And by the way, just so you know, I’m so glad I met you.
If I hadn’t run into Jeremiah that day, I might not be friends with you now, or any of the others, and then I wouldn’t have all this help in finding out what really happened to Cal.
It honestly feels like kismet. Just like we said at the Midsummer party. ”
“Yeah, it really does feel like fate.” Cherry nodded quickly, blinking hard against fresh tears. “Okay, okay, we need to stop before we ruin all this eyeliner.” She let out a laugh that was half-sob, fanning her face with both hands. “I spent twenty minutes on this makeup. I am not doing it again.”
I laughed too, watery and weak, and we stood there for a moment in her small dorm room, doing our best to catch our breath and mentally prepare ourselves for what came next.
“Ready?” Cherry finally asked, fastening her necklace around her neck. The 'C' charm settled against her chest, catching the light.
I fastened mine too, feeling the cool metal against my skin. “Ready.”
Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my god, I almost forgot to show you the fake ID I got,” she said, hurrying over to her desk. “I figured the hospital might ask to see some, and I know a guy from the theater who used to do side work making fake licenses for students.”
As she spoke, she reached into one of the desk drawers and produced a license. It had Cherry's photo but listed her name as Caroline Marie Albright, aged twenty-two, with an address in Seattle.
“Did you get one for me too?” I asked.
“James only had time to make one, given the time crunch,” she said, shaking her head.
“But it should be fine. I’m the one who made the appointment, and I’ll be the one doing all the talking when we get there, so they’ll probably only ask me to show them ID.
You can just hang back behind me looking… cousin-ish.”
“Cousin-ish.” I laughed softly. “Got it.”
Twenty minutes later, we were halfway to Lakeside, cruising down the highway in Cherry’s Jeep. Anticipation crawled under my skin, my mind a restless tangle of questions for Jennifer Albright, along with a hundred other thoughts and feelings clawing at the edges.
“Do you think Jennifer might’ve known Roman Valcourt?” I asked, glancing over at Cherry. “I know she’s a year older than him, but they still could’ve bumped into each other at some point, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s possible. Especially if she was at the Dionysus estate for two months after the hunt,” she said. “We can ask her when we get there.”
I sighed, slumping as I stared out the window. “I still can’t believe Calista fell for Roman,” I muttered. “She was usually good at weeding out assholes.”
“Honestly, I can’t blame her. He’s super charming,” Cherry replied. “Did I ever tell you that I went on a date with him once?”
I straightened in my seat and snapped my gaze back to her. “Wait, what?”
“It was all the way back at the start of freshman year. Before I met Cal, or any of the others. I was at an orientation event, and I met him there,” she explained.
“He asked me out, and I said yes because I thought he seemed pretty nice. Plus, he’s handsome as hell. I hate the guy, but I can admit that.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, the whole Valcourt family seems to have good genes,” I murmured.
“Anyway, I guess I’ve always been pretty perceptive about people.
Especially guys,” Cherry went on. She hesitated, briefly shaking her head.
“I don’t know how to explain it, but once I spent a little more time with him, I could tell something was wrong with him.
Something was just… off. Even though he didn’t really say or do anything wrong on the date. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. Some people can see straight through superficial charm, and I guess you’re one of them,” I said. “What ended up happening?”
“I declined a second date, and thankfully, he didn’t push it,” she said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Now I know I dodged a major bullet.”
“Why didn’t you warn Cal about him when you suspected she was seeing him?” I asked, brows furrowing.
“I did,” she replied. “At least, I tried to. I didn’t want to make it super obvious that we all knew she was seeing him, because she clearly wanted to keep it secret, and I didn’t want her to think we’d all been gossiping behind her back.
So I just told everyone that story about Roman when we were talking about bad dates one day.
Like, as a general warning sort of thing.
I was hoping she’d pick up on it and eventually cut him off. ”
“How did she react?”