CHAPTER THIRTY #2
He gritted his teeth and held in a sharp retort, although he did manage to mutter, “How compassionate of you,” before turning and storming out.
Dodging the hordes of students moving from class to class between bells, he made his way out of Clementine, his heart in his throat, expecting to be stopped at any moment, to be attacked. But he was allowed to leave unmolested.
Once outside, he stood in the bright sun, unsure of his next move. He still didn’t have an official invitation to Bright Renewal. Would they turn him away at the gate if he showed up unannounced?
His jaw firmed and he fingered the hilt of his saber.
Let them try.
He went home first, to replenish his potion supplies and grab the extra ammunition for his blunderbuss.
His mother was in the kitchen when he arrived home with a cup of tea in front of her that she wasn’t drinking, just staring at nothing, stiff-backed in her chair.
She hadn’t even gotten dressed yet from when he’d left that morning.
“Mother,” he said rather loudly as he stepped in through the screen door and let it slam shut behind him, just like when he’d been a thoughtless kid.
Her head whipped toward him, a hand flying to her chest. “Oh, Mother Mercy, you frightened me to death, Ollie!”
“Sorry, Mama,” he said sheepishly.
His mother dismissed her fright and got down to business, rising from the table to fix more tea. “What’s wrong? What’s happened now? Do you need anything to eat?”
“I don’t have time for tea, Mother. I have an appointment to keep. I was just coming home to grab a few things.”
Settling a kettle on the stove, she looked back at him, her brow furrowed, and he noticed how much older she was looking all of a sudden, the weight of years taking a toll out of nowhere.
It was hardly surprising given all the recent events.
Havenside, and to a lesser extent Otherside, really didn’t experience violent crimes.
Nothing really bad, anyway. Nothing this shocking.
“A letter came this morning,” she said softly. “After you left for the stationhouse.”
His heart pounded as he looked around for the missive.
Usually, his mother kept the mail on the kitchen counter, along with everything else in the free world.
It served as a convenient dumping ground.
Her haphazard organizing used to drive his father crazy, but his mother insisted the system worked.
By now, Keen knew how to navigate the piles of paperwork and he spotted a crisp, clean envelope – fine stationery reserved for the upper class.
He grabbed it up with a sweaty hand and licked his lips.
The flowing letters across the front spelled out his name and address in sweeping loops. The paper smelled faintly of lavender.
Maybe I do have my official invitation…
He managed to open it carefully, using the letter opener rather than tearing it. The note inside was a single page, and the handwriting matched the writing on the envelope – Abigail’s. Her penmanship had changed very little from their schooldays.
My dearest Oleander,
I am so sorry. Events have transpired and I am forced to seek safety within Bright Renewal Academy.
I would give anything to see you, my dear old friend, but I fear it is not safe.
The invitation to Bright Renewal stands; I want nothing more than for you to witness firsthand our Good Work here.
Unfortunately, the wheels of Fate turn against us.
There are People who wish you gone from Havenside.
Gone Forever, I fear. You should not try and contact me, not now.
I worry it may put you in Danger. I cannot say more, just know I care about you and wish you the greatest Happiness in this world.
My dear Oleander, may the Goddess Bless you.
Yours truly,
Abigail
He read the note again. And again. His hands shook and fear rose up from his belly to choke him.
Abigail was afraid, seeking asylum within the walls of a nightmare – and the reason why she’d sought safety was far too obvious: Dirk.
He had threatened her. Probably for coming to see him . The bastard!
He folded the letter and jammed it into his jacket.
“What’s it all about, Ollie?” his mother asked quietly. She didn’t sound frightened or upset, more resigned than anything. “What does she want?”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just demonhunter business. I – I need to go. I’m sorry I interrupted your tea.”
“Oleander.” She laid a hand on his arm, her expression more serious than he could ever recall, even when she’d told him his father had died. “Whatever she’s told you, don’t believe it.”
“What? What are you talking about? You don’t even know who it’s from.”
She gave him a look only a mother could manage. “That girl played with your heart when you were a boy like it was some sort of shiny bauble. She started back up without missing a beat, didn’t she?”
He blinked. Had she known all along how he had pined for Abigail? He truly thought he’d kept it completely hidden. Now, he felt like a fool. Of course she knew. His mother knew everything about him.
“It’s not like that, Mother. She isn’t a girl anymore. Maybe she was a bit shallow back in the day, but she was always kind to me.”
“Oh, yes, she was a cunning one. Always with that smarmy sweetness, that treacly smile and wide-eyed innocence. ‘Who, me? Why, I’d never hurt a fly!’ ” She spoke in a falsetto and batted her eyelashes at him. “I don’t trust her. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Mother!” he cried and pulled away from her. “You are wrong. Dead wrong. And I don’t have time to explain why. Abigail is in danger. I only hope I’m not too late to help her.”
His mother’s eyes widened, disdain replaced by terror. “What does she want from you, Ollie?”
“She’s asked for nothing, Mother,” he said coldly. He had to leave. Now. He couldn’t waste any more time indulging his mother’s suspicions. He bent and gave her a swift, dry kiss on the check. Her skin was icy cold. “I’ll be home later. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Oleander, please…”
He couldn’t listen without losing his temper and he had no wish to fight with his mother. “Good day, Mother.”
He closed the door on her, feeling guilty but determined. She’d see he was right and would understand eventually.
Later, he would reflect on that moment and wish he’d stayed and listened to her. But he hadn’t been ready to admit he was wrong about Abigail Primm, that he’d always been wrong about her.
By the time he did, it was far too late.