Chapter 17
In the morning, two days before Death’s deadline, we entered Las Vegas proper.
The girls were in a foul mood, everyone sullen and edgy, bickering among themselves about the stupidest things, like who’d used the last of the tampons without telling anyone or who left their clothes in a heap on the floor of the bathroom the night before.
Whatever Death’s final task was, it was casting a long shadow, and I wondered if that had been the intent all along.
If he wanted us to feel so jumpy and afraid. On the verge of breaking.
Spirits lifted when we arrived at our hotel.
Shiloh, perhaps sensing that we needed a boost, had rented a penthouse suite on the top floor of a massive casino hotel.
It was one of those places where the bath towels are folded into the shapes of swans and the robes hanging in the wardrobes are embroidered with the names of each person staying in the room.
The suite came with several amenities: a hot tub and sauna, a balcony overlooking the Strip, and access to the sprawling breakfast buffet on the first floor of the hotel.
We let the valet park the caravan for us—Shiloh tipping generously for the hassle of maneuvering the RV—and the girls entered the hotel lobby, which was eye-achingly gaudy, like a Cheesecake Factory on steroids.
To the left was a casino, which legally none of us was allowed to enter, though that didn’t stop Skye from trying.
“I’m so good at slot machines,” she said. “Once, when I was six, my mom smuggled me into this casino, and I won a jackpot of three thousand dollars on my first spin. Four diamonds, I’ll never forget it.”
“Your mom smuggled you into a casino?” Iona asked, stunned.
“Only when she was drunk,” said Skye, and I couldn’t tell whether or not she was lying.
“She’s bolder when she drinks and more charming.
It makes it easier for her to flirt her way into things, which is how she got me into the casino in the first place.
” She sighed, smiling and dreamy. “Those were the good times.”
Iona’s expression screwed into a frown. “That sounds…a little messed up.”
Skye continued on as though she hadn’t heard her. “I can’t wait for you guys to meet her someday. You’re going to love her, and she’ll love you. When we finally make it to California, we can stay with her. I know she’d love to have us.”
The lobby had looming arches taller than my house, frescoed ceilings, and a huge tiered fountain complete with motorized fake swans that swam in wide circles.
We hauled the last of our bags through the doors, refusing help from the bellhops, who repeatedly attempted to take them anyway, though I suspected they were driven less by obligation than their own keen desires to be near the girls.
I couldn’t blame them. Even in a place as bright and gaudy as the Vegas Strip, the girls stood out, drawing gazes as they made their way through the lobby and up to the top floor.
My jaw dropped the moment I stepped into the penthouse.
It was two stories tall, with four bedrooms and enough beds so that every girl could sleep alone for once.
After the rigors of the road—the nights I’d spent on the floor of the RV in sleeping bags or squished into a twin bunk with Iona—it was almost hard to comprehend this level of luxury.
The girls abandoned their bags in a heap on the floor and immediately began to explore our new lodgings.
Every cabinet was opened, every drink and snack in the mini fridge was sampled.
Miniature glass bottles of soap and shower oil were opened and smelled.
Skye phoned for room service and ordered a feast.
Shiloh—tired to the point of looking almost sick—watched the theatrics with a weak smile.
“You did good,” I said, the first words I’d spoken since our near-fight the night before. “They needed this. But I hope you take some time to enjoy this too. You need the rest, and they need you, so you’d better start taking care of yourself.”
I knew it wasn’t my place to nag her, but Shiloh didn’t seem to mind. She raised a hand and gently nudged my cheek with her knuckles. “I’ll be all right,” she said, and sidestepped, busying herself with the many bags the girls had hauled into the foyer of the suite.
I’d been craving a hot shower for days. Not the lukewarm five-minute affairs in the RV shower-toilet combo, but a real, proper shower, and I got one that night, scrubbing myself clean as the showerheads embedded in the walls blasted me from all directions. I felt reborn. We all did.
By the time I emerged from the shower, I found the other girls in the living room gorging on a spread of room service: chicken fingers, mac-and-cheese kids’ meals, tinned caviar and filet mignon, charred bananas Foster topped with hills of melting ice cream.
I settled myself between Chloe and Iona, the latter leaning into my shoulder.
There was a black-and-white film playing on the TV, a moon with a man’s face jabbering at the camera.
It was weird and nonsensical, but the girls seemed charmed by it, erupting into fits of giggles when two men started fighting on-screen.
I decided that this was how I wanted to remember them when the worst was over.
When I had my answers about what happened to Adeline and I returned to my life in Michigan, I would hold this memory as close as I could, revisit it often to make sure it remained clear in my mind as the years passed and I learned to live without them.
“Roslyn?”
I blinked rapidly, a few tears falling down my cheek when I did.
I was surprised to see Riley staring at me, expectant. “You all right?”
Riley had never seemed remotely interested in how I was or what I was thinking.
From what I gathered, she’d never quite gotten over the fact that I hadn’t earned my way into the group the way the other girls had, by being hand-selected by Death.
She’d made it clear that she saw me as nothing more than an unwanted appendage.
“I’m fine,” I said, immediately defensive, but as it turned out, I had no reason to be.
Riley offered me something I never once expected to receive from her: a compliment. “You know, it’s pretty impressive that you weren’t even picked by Death and you’ve still managed to make it this far. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I know,” I said. “I heard you and Chloe talking on my first night.”
Chloe’s face went white. “How much did you hear, exactly?”
“Enough to know you didn’t want me to join. That you thought I’d make a mess of things.”
“I mean, in our defense, verdict’s still out.” Riley sucked caviar off a mother-of-pearl spoon and closed her eyes, savoring. “We’ll see what Death has in store for you tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll have some twisted test up his sleeve.”
I faltered. “Wait, a test? What kind of test?”
“Can’t say. Could be anything. I had to kill a kid from one of my classes. RIP, Toby.”
“For me, it was my grandma,” said Skye, shaking her head. “Poor Bernice.”
“I thought she was your great-aunt?” Naomi asked.
“Whatever. She was a relative, all right? It was hard. My mom was so mad—”
“Your mom knew what you did?” I asked, flabbergasted, but all at once, everyone was talking over each other, going on and on about the cruel and twisted ways Death had tested their resolve.
What would Death demand from me? What did I have that he hadn’t already taken?
My thoughts immediately went to my parents.
They’d had us in their late thirties, and they were only getting older, slower, and Adeline’s death had aged them faster.
They were pushing toward their fifties, and people died all the time at that age, with blood clots lodged in their lungs or from stress-induced heart arrythmias.
I was on my feet in an instant.
Riley glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “You all right?”
“I—I need to call my parents.”
Chloe and Skye exchanged a knowing look, but it was Riley who said, “Calling isn’t going to change shit. If Death wants them dead, they’re dead. It’s—”
“Riley, shut up.” It was as harsh as I’d ever heard Naomi be. She turned to me, forcing a smile. “The box of phones is in the main suite, but only a few are charged. Take all the time you need.”
I nodded, and went to the bedroom. The hatbox full of cell phones was on the desk, charging cords snaking out from beneath the top.
I sorted through them and found mine, but it was long dead.
So I grabbed the one beside it, a palm-sized iPhone several generations old in a furry green case.
It was one of the few in the box that was charged enough to use right away.
I dialed my mom’s number, pressed it to my ear.
She didn’t pick up the first time, but I left a message and called again.
This time, she answered on the first ring. “Roslyn?”
“Are you okay?”
“What? Why?”
“And what about Dad?”
“He’s fine too. We’re both okay. Roslyn, what’s going on? Are you all right?”
I faltered, realizing how crazy I must’ve sounded calling in a panic. “Yeah, I just…I had a bad dream about you and Dad. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Well we’re just fine. How are things at the lake?”
“The lake—oh, right, the lake. Yeah, things are great here. The girls are wonderful, and it’s been good to get away. I miss you, though.”
“I miss you, too, sweetheart. Are you coming home soon?”
I was shocked that it was a request and not a mandate. And the way she said it, so soft and earnest, she didn’t even sound like herself. It was as if someone was…suppressing her, almost. Maybe Death. “You’re sure you and Dad are okay?”
“Better than okay. We’re just fine.”
We said our goodbyes. I lowered the phone back into the box, and when I did, I noticed another. Unlike the others, it was relatively nondescript, in just a clear acrylic case. The only adornment was a fortune taped to the inside. It read: The future is a lie.