Chapter One The Ninth Circle of Hell #2
She must see something hostile in my expression because she lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m being pushy. I just don’t know if I did a good enough job on the phone stressing the importance of keeping silent about this. It’s for your own good, really. You’ll see.”
Another nod. “Okay.”
“When we moved back to Starling seven years ago, we had no idea the kind of vitriol we would face. Our last name isn’t even Thorn,” she marvels. “And we aren’t related to your fath—um, to Gabriel. And yet there were some folks in town who blamed us. Or at least, associated us with that monst—”
She stops abruptly. Poor lady’s looking more and more flustered. I almost feel sorry for her.
“It’s all right,” I assure her, my tone dry. “You can say the word monster. I know what he is.”
“The twins were only nine when we came back here,” she continues.
“Up till that point, they’d spent their entire lives in Chicago, but Dan’s momma remarried and moved to Florida and left us that beautiful property—we couldn’t pass up the opportunity, you know?
Raise our kids in a cramped town house or on hundreds of acres of wide-open space?
It was a no-brainer, really. Starling is a better place to raise kids. ”
“Why did you move away in the first place, then?” I ask.
I told myself I wasn’t going to get close to these people—I’ll be leaving town the second I graduate—but I can’t fight my curiosity. Gran rarely spoke about Aunt Maggie.
“Dan was offered a job in Chicago not long after we got married, and we decided it would be best for him to accept it.” She pauses. “I don’t know how much your grandma told you about what happened between us—”
“Absolutely nothing,” I interject helpfully.
Maggie gives a faint smile. “Yes. That sounds like my momma. The truth, darlin’, is painfully cliché—your grandmother didn’t approve of the boy I wanted to marry.
And your momma sided with her, which put a strain on that relationship too.
Oh Lord, the screaming matches between the three of us!
A lot of words said that couldn’t be unsaid. ”
“Did Gran approve of my dad?” I can’t help but ask. “I mean, I know she despised him after, but did she like him…before?”
It’s something I’ve always wanted to know, but Gran refused to speak about my father. She had every right to loathe him, though. He stole her daughter from her.
“She did, for the most part,” Maggie says.
“I don’t think she loved that he whisked y’all off to live in a cabin in the woods, but the truth is, your momma preferred it.
Sarah spent so much time at the hospital, surrounded by noise and patients and people, that she liked coming home to the solitude.
I think your grandmother eventually came to accept that, and they spoke frequently.
Every day, I imagine. Can’t say I wasn’t envious of that, but I was too stubborn at the time to try to make amends. ”
Maggie drums her fingers on the steering wheel and stares out the side window for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is grim.
“When we moved back to Starling, the twins had it hard at first. Connor, especially. Gossip travels fast in these parts. Wasn’t long before everyone knew who their uncle was.
They’ve had a helluva time climbing out from under that shadow.
We all have. So trust me, it’s better if we stick with the story I told you. ”
I look over at her. “I understand.”
“I should also warn you, just so you’re not caught off guard when it happens, but Gabriel Thorn is a regular topic of conversation among the locals.
The town’s never quite recovered. Ten years and still it’s all the place ever talks about.
And then we get all these internet sleuths showing up.
Nosing around, thinking they can uncover more details.
It’s gotten even worse with the anniversary approaching. ”
“The anniversary?”
“The ten-year anniversary of your fath—of Gabriel’s arrest.”
You mean the ten-year anniversary of my mother’s death?
I stop myself from blurting that out at the last second and instead say, “You can use that word too.”
“What word?”
“Father. I’m well aware of who spawned me.
It’s all good, Auntie Mags.” There’s a hint of challenge in my voice.
I’ve found that one of the best tests of a person’s character is to call them a nickname you know they’ll hate.
But the moment it slips out, I sort of regret testing Maggie. She seems decent, if a bit fragile—
“Auntie Mags?” she echoes, then throws her head back and laughs. “Oh my God. Please call me that in front of my husband. It sounds like a character from the awful British soap Jazzy got him into.” She’s still giggling. “What a truly awful nickname. I love it.”
Maybe living with the Shipleys won’t be so bad.
“I wish…” Her laughter fades. She pauses, as if trying to come up with the words.
“I wish I’d been more of a presence in your life, Ryan.
The rift between your grandmother and me was a deep one.
And it pains me that we couldn’t come to terms before her death.
It’s my fault. After everything with Sarah—your mom—I wanted to distance myself from it all.
That wasn’t fair to you. Sarah and I didn’t always get along, but we’d just started talking again, when…
” She stops abruptly. Regroups. “Your momma was a very brave woman. She wanted the best for you. That’s why she tried to leave when she did. ”
I don’t realize I’m gnawing on my lower lip until I taste the metallic tang of blood. It’s a smell, a taste, I always associate with that night, cowering under the bed, wishing I could disappear.
“I know,” I say, or maybe I just mouth it. I really don’t want to talk about this. I’m feeling sick enough as it is.
Turning toward the window doesn’t help. Because in that instant, I catch a swath of midnight blue in the distance, nestled among the trees.
Sturgeon Lake.
The place where my father supposedly dumped the bodies of all but one of his victims.
My stomach lurches, and now I know I’ll be sick.
But suddenly my aunt reaches out and places a hand on the knee of my shredded jeans, giving it a squeeze. “Ah, it’s good to have you here, darlin’. Your cousins are eager to meet you. I know we don’t know each other well, but I want to change that. I want you to be happy here.”
I swallow back the nausea and the knot of doubt in my throat. Every good memory I have of this place is tainted by a bad one.
Happy.
I’ve never been that in my life. And I don’t know how it’s possible to start in the place where a monster once lived.