Chapter 29
In hindsight, I don’t know if bringing Moro and leaving my phone was the right call, but I’m not sure what other choice there was to make.
My phone won’t help me up here, and Moro will.
Even her emotional support is a lot more than nothing, and she probably wouldn’t have let me leave her home again.
“Please don’t get killed,” I whisper to my dog, parking in the empty lot of Bluebone Ridge. The caution tape on the gates is shredded and mostly gone now, and the place is really starting to look abandoned with weeds and debris from the woods around.
I’d been hoping for the whole drive up here that Cairo would just be here, sitting on the steps pensively and staring up at the moon. But he isn’t. If there’s anyone here, I can’t see or hear, or otherwise sense them.
The entire place just feels… empty . For the first time in forever, it feels like Bluebone Ridge has been abandoned by any and every living thing in a ten mile radius, though I know that can’t be right.
A sense of dread settles over me as I walk up the stairs, but I don’t bother going inside.
This is starting to feel stupid of me, since I have no idea where to look or where Cairo might be.
Unfortunately, my Bat Signal is broken, and I’m not sure how to fix it in a timely manner.
Usually, Cairo just finds me whenever he wants, or whenever I need him to.
Moro isn’t helping much, since she’s just sniffing around the stairs with mild interest and her fur raised like this place is just as appealing to her as it is to me.
“Maybe we fucked up,” I breathe, sitting down hard on the stairs. I want to cry, thanks to my mom and Dr. Radley. I need Cairo to help me figure out what to do, even though he’s not really any help with human matters.
Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to deal with my more human problems at all. Tonight, they can’t be on my mind. Not when Cairo has been gone for closer to twenty hours than the twelve he promised.
Because he had promised.
Moro comes close to nudge my face, sniffing my hair like it might be holding some secret.
But when she sneezes and walks away, all I can do is watch her go.
Too bad she’s not trained as a search and rescue dog, I think to myself.
Maybe then I could give some kind of cue for her to find his scent and run with it.
Not that I have his scent just lying around on a hairbrush or toothbrush. Even though he stayed with me, Cairo’s home was never with me, I realize. Not even for the past couple of weeks. His home is here, in the mountains.
Maybe this will never work after all, my brain whispers to me, only darkening my mood further.
I can’t see how I could ever introduce him to my mom, though my few online friends would probably accept him way better than her, even if I told them what he is.
He can’t exactly fit into normal society, since when he’s starving he’s very clearly not human.
And I can’t live up here with him.
My stomach twists around the thought, and all of those hopeful butterflies that took flight in me only yesterday all wither and die, falling to their graves somewhere near my ribs that squeeze painfully around my insides.
The sound of dragging makes me look up, as does Moro’s sudden interest in the courtyard on the other side of the stairs. “Cairo?” I ask, when Moro wags her tail instead of growling.
But the shape that appears around the stairs dragging a body isn’t Cairo, and my heart clenches painfully in my chest.
“You look disappointed,” Agatha observes, dropping the body like it’s merely an inconvenience that weighs as much as a sheet. “Sorry I’m not who you’re looking for.” Her voice comes out as Cairo’s instead of hers, and it sends an unpleasant shiver up my spine to hear it come from her lips.
“Please don’t do that,” I breathe, trying to sound polite and not like I’m making a demand, but rather a plea.
“Do you know where he is? Or, I guess, what’s taking him so long?
I’m not trying to be overbearing,” I add, my words coming out fast as I try to explain.
“It’s just that it’s been a lot longer than twelve hours, and my day was kind of shit, and?—”
Moro growls suddenly, her fur standing on end. While she wasn’t willing to walk straight up to Agatha, this new reaction has me stunned and staring, even as she whirls away from the female cursed and looks back up at me, then past me.
Agatha is faster than Moro, and faster than I’ve ever seen Cairo move.
One moment she’s in front of me and the next she’s behind me, having moved more quickly than I can see.
I stumble to my feet, nearly falling down the stairs and turn to see her slam a male, naked cursed back into the doorframe, though he doesn’t have the good sense to submit to her while she holds him there.
“That’s not very nice. And you should watch what you say to me, sweetheart,” Agatha observes, unimpressed.
The man tears at pieces of the doorframe, sending debris raining down the steps, but he doesn’t listen to her warning.
His eyes are on me and he hisses, showing off his fangs, before Agatha rapidly plunges her free hand into his chest, pulling a gasp from my throat and a choked-off gargle from his lips.
Blood leaks from his mouth as he looks at her, but Agatha’s hand is still inside of the bleeding cavity of his upper body.
“You’ll find I’m too old to put up with bad manners.
And I’m not interested in second chances.
” While he watches and as a soft, desperate sound coming from between his teeth, Agatha yanks her hand outward in one smooth, quick motion, revealing her fingers wrapped around a mass of red and black.
It takes too long for me to realize she’s holding the man’s heart, and everything it was once attached to.
He gurgles, blood bubbling to his lips, and both the man and I stare at the messy, gory thing she holds before she crushes it easily between her fingers, sending blood and tissue raining to the ground below.
He falls a second later, and Agatha smears her hand on her dress, the fabric dark enough to not show the blood, not that she seems to mind.
“What was he doing?” I gasp, my eyes on the dead man.
Dressed only in old, rotted pants, he’s not one that I would consider to be like Cairo or Agatha herself.
But my hands tremble, and I don’t know whether to congratulate her or puke at the sight of what once was a living thing. “Why did you do that?”
Agatha sighs and walks toward me, stopping one stair up and reaching out to trail her still bloody fingers through my hair. “You are so young not to see what’s happening here,” she observes, and I can’t even be offended. “I can’t remember what that’s like. He was going to kill you, little bird.”
The words make me go cold. I look up at her, eyes wide and dumb. “Kill…me?” I repeat. “But Cairo—He wouldn’t let—” Her brow arches as I break off, a gasp on my lips. “No. No, he’s not?—”
“I’ll ask.” The words are so casual that they don’t register right away.
Moro doesn’t even have time to look up from where she’s licking at the blood seeping from the body before Agatha is gone again.
Another man screams, and when I turn around I find her beside the stairs, holding him up even as he struggles in her grip.
“I’ll leave.” This one is smarter than his dead friend. His eyes are on Agatha, terrified and wide while reflecting the moon above. “I saw you. I didn’t attack—I wouldn’t, no matter what he said.” The man’s eyes flick to mine, then back to her. “Please, Agatha. Don’t do this.”
“Tell me what happened,” Agatha commands in a calm, measured voice. Casually, she reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear, exerting no more effort than if she were holding a squirming kitten off the ground, almost making me sigh with envy. If this were any other circumstance, I probably would.
Instead, I look at Moro, who’s still lapping at the blood, and consider calling her off of it. But what the hell, I have bigger problems than my dog becoming a bloodthirsty killer by the light of the semi-full moon.
“He told us to kill her.” The man nods at me, more afraid of Agatha than anything. He’s still struggling, though it really is hopeless. There’s no way he can get away from her, considering how effortlessly she’s holding him by the throat.
“Tyler?” Agatha assumes, glancing at me with a look of warning in her eyes, like she expects me to do something stupid.
I don’t think I will, but that’s not saying anything, given my recent life choices.
Instead of adding in my opinion or commentary, I curl my fingers against my palms, digging my nails into my skin to ground myself as anxiety prickles up my spine, then try to take deep, centering breaths like my meditation app tells me to do.
Agatha shifts her grip, causing the man to hiss in discomfort, and for his feet to dangle a little higher above the ground. He’s too afraid to fight her, and that doesn’t give him many options for escape. “Where is Cairo?” she asks, and her tone makes it known that she expects to be answered.
But the man still hesitates, his eyes wide.
“Please don’t make me…I’m just doing what I was told,” he murmurs, his fangs bared in fear rather than aggression.
But the idea that she’ll kill him for his answer makes my blood run cold, and I take a step toward her, barely noticing her warning glance in my direction.
“Where’s Cairo?” I breathe, needing the answer.
The man takes a breath, swallowing under Agatha’s grip. “He’s dead,” the cursed states, a tremble in his voice that probably has nothing to do with his feelings on Cairo’s fate. “He came to confront Tyler…and he underestimated him. Cairo is dead, and killing me won’t change that.”