Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Yosh
The living room of the North House looks like a cringeworthy Christmas musical. We find the family gathered around the fireplace with their instruments, pretending they want to be here while their faces say otherwise.
I have to hand it to them: they’re showpeople. They’ll deliver, even with their hearts broken and minds brainwashed.
Jay approaches us.
Well, he walks straight to his brother, giving me the invisible treatment.
He hands Tom his violin, pointing him to his place in the band. Tom glances over his shoulder at me, asking with those sapphire eyes for permission to go, to listen to Jay, to play along with his family.
A scoff escapes me. Every card we laid bare on the table fifteen minutes ago apparently does’t mean anything anymore.
Now he’s making music with them like they’re one big happy family celebrating the holidays.
It tears me apart because I understand that need for approval from the very people who keep breaking you.
I can feel it standing here and I hate it. Hate them for creating this gravitational pull that even I can’t resist.
We said we’d leave after brunch after one more conversation with Effy. He even joked about leaving with a jar full of pineapple cookies for the road. I’m not sure he remembers that now.
He doesn’t belong here. He belongs with me.
My hands curl into fists. Frustration and fear knot through me like thunder branching under my skin. Deep down, I know this family’s pull is stronger than anything I can offer.
I told myself I could stand up to Jay, that I was the one threat he didn’t see coming, but Jay did see me, and that little surge of arrogance was where I fell. He’d warned me this morning, calmly, about the power of blood. Then I’d gave him what he wanted when I threatened him.
Now I watch Tom laugh like none of it ever happened, and the truth settles in.
Jay was right.
Effy was right too.
Don’t run. Don’t fight the pack. No one wins against this family.
The stubborn part of me still needs to come to terms with that, but I think if I truly love Tom—of course I do—I need to obey the pack for now and trust that maybe, once Effy gains more influence, things might change.
And here’s something even more messed up: the part of me that isn’t stubborn feels a deep connection to her.
I don’t know the how or the why of that, but it’s enough to make me trust her.
Maybe I should write all these absurd thoughts down. When my ass is baking on the warm sand, I can reread them and remind myself Heatherfell wasn’t a collective hallucination.
I let my breath escape slowly. My spine needs to be diamond-hard for the next few hours.
The song ends, hands start clapping on autopilot. The musicians bow to the spectators and the McKennas roar their approval. They are so insanely loud.
Jay gestures for Tom to step forward.
I watch as Jay murmurs something to him and Joan. They both nod, and whatever he said works, because Jay’s grin spreads wide. He slides an arm around Tom’s shoulders, steering him to the mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our two best musicians are going to perform Santa Baby for you this afternoon. Give it up for my sweet daughter Joan and my lovely little brother, who’ll be guiding her on the piano. I love you both very much. You two are the glue that keeps this family whole.”
Tom’s eyes shine for Jay. Jay’s eyes find me, his smile turning vile.
It lands like a slow punch to the gut. My jaw locks as anger rises. Fucking asshole. Fucking…
There’s a special layer of the abyss designed for people like Jay, but I doubt Lucifer wants to share his space. No one likes being outshone in their own territory.
The applause starts again, the clapping vibrating through the floorboards. It feels hollow and suffocating, knowing I’m Jay’s intended audience.
I know the kind of game he’s playing all too well. He’s luring Tom back into the center of the pack, daring me to object so he can paint me as the outsider ruining the family.
I look away from the stage and find Effy in the crowd. She’s already looking at me, signaling with her eyes: don’t.
I come back to my senses. Jay can do whatever he thinks he needs to do. I’m taking Tom home with me to Avalon.
I force a smile, clapping along with the rest. Suddenly a hand lands on the back of my neck, and I shoot upright. So much for a diamond spine.
It’s almost a repeat of the moment I threw Deep Diver over my shoulder—my reflexes go rogue in hostile situations. But this time it would’ve been Finn on the floor, along with the hot tea in the antique English cup he’s offering me now.
Steam curls from it, smelling herbal. Peace offering or poison? A reasonable question in this place.
With SeaBreeze still fresh in my mind, there’s no way I’m taking a sip.
“Thanks, Finn,” I say, taking the cup from his hands.
I turn back to watch Tom play and Joan rolling like a lazy cat over the piano.
Seconds pass. Finn's still watching me.
It’s getting awkward as hell. My nerves don’t do well with this kind of attention.
“What do you want!?”
“I want to apologize for yesterday. It wasn’t my intention to… I didn’t know you and Tom…”
He rubs his eyes.
Ah. Someone’s hungover.
“You need to apologize to Tom,” I bite back.
“I will, but damn. It’s this place. No excuse for it, but… I just can’t stand being inside these walls. It changes me. Fuck…”
He turns away, heading for what I assume is the bathroom. I roll my eyes. Can’t say I didn’t see that coming, the guy was already turning green.
I stare at the fine china in my hands. Maybe I should check if he’s okay. He doesn’t really deserve it, but at this point I have to think strategically, and he just gave me a small opening I might be able to work with.
Sergei approaches me in the hall. I brace for a death stare, but instead he gives me a slow, vile grin. I nod and keep walking. Creep.
At the front door I turn left. Two purple leather shoes stick out from the dark hollow beneath the stairs.
Finn is crouched on the burgundy carpet, knees pulled to his chest, hands pressed over his eyes. Soft sobs leak through his fingers. The space he’s wedged into is barely more than a wooden crawlspace. A familiar space. Some instincts don’t fade, no matter how far you travel.
“I hand out tissues for a living,” I say.
He startles, clearly not having heard me approach.
“Don’t have any with me,” I add. “But if you want to talk.”
He wipes his face, tries to pull himself together, then gives up and sinks back down. That’s my cue to slide down the wall and sit across from him.
“I love this family,” he says hoarsely. “But at the same time I hate them so much.”
“You don’t hate everyone, do you?”
“I hate Jay. I hate Janice. My mother, too. Effy, who thinks she’s above us now that she’s almost twenty. And I hate all the sheep.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “I hate myself too. I’m one of those fucking dutiful little sheep.”
“I thought you guys were a wolf pack,” I say, hoping a small joke might keep him talking.
The corner of his mouth twitches, but it’s not quite a smile.
“I broke up with my boyfriend last month. We were together for two years.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Want to tell me what happened?”
“He invited me to spend Christmas with his family. That’s when I knew it was never going to work. Just like last year, I told him I had to be here. He said he understood. But what about next year? Or the one after that? What would I say? Bring him here?”
Finn shakes his head. “No sane person would do that to someone they love.”
Ouch.
His eyes flick up to mine. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You’re here. That’s why I acted like an idiot yesterday. I was probably jealous. Tom brought you here and I just… can’t.”
“How does it work?” I ask carefully. “How does Jay decide who’s in and who’s not? Janice is here, and so are Luca and Alex. Sergei and Mary? Calvin? Your father, once?”
I might’ve pushed it with that last one, so I keep quiet.
Finn glances around to make sure we’re alone. “Jay… gives strays a home. Lone wolves who need a pack.”
Understandable. Vulnerable people without a safety net. The cult bingo card is almost full, but something nags at me: a cult leader wants more followers, not fewer. So why keep it so exclusive?
Finn’s hand settles on my knee.
“This is just the inner circle,” he whispers. “Family and the chosen ones. There’s a syndicate in Amsterdam. Branches all over the continent. People who follow the ideology of the pack and move in the dark.”
Wait. What? Questions burst like fireworks in my head, but I don’t get the chance to ask them.
There’s voices from the living room, moving closer down the hall. The family’s coming this way.
Finn’s head snaps up. He scrambles out of the crawlspace and bolts. Moments later I hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs overhead.
I push myself off the floor and head toward the crowd. Tom’s at the back, carrying a thrashing Joan over his shoulder. I cover my mouth, trying to hide my laugh. He has no idea how ridiculous this looks. Usually I’m the one hauling a brat around like that.
Tom lights up when he spots me. “Love, I was looking for you. What were you doing there?”
“Nothing. Looking for the bathroom,” I say quickly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Finn leaning over the balustrade above. He watches us for a moment before disappearing out of sight.
We’re back at the dining table, this time for brunch. No Thrift Shop Thursday on Christmas Day. Today we eat off fine porcelain. Every place setting matches, neatly layered, the first course a beef-and-vegetable soup.
Tom switches the place cards again, which raises brows and sets off whispers.
I pretend not to notice, taking my seat beside him.
What I do notice is Sergei watching me, then leaning in to murmur something to Jay. I swear they’re doing it on purpose, just to make me uncomfortable. It’s working, but once again, I can’t show any sign of weakness in this place.