46. Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Six
Emma
Two days have passed, and I’ve heard nothing.
Washing my hands at the sink for the fifth time now seems like the best way to pass the time this morning.
I can’t sleep more than a few hours at a time, because the moment I open my eyes, I reach for my phone to see if Dacre has texted me.
My mind replays that night in the kitchen again as the water runs over the back of my hands.
The same spot where Dacre is now scarred, thanks to someone he considered family.
That could be where he is right now. Alone. Hurt.
I scrub harder under my nails to keep myself from crying. The kitchen feels empty without him. I hate not knowing if he’s okay, but what evidence do I have? A text message that clearly says he’ll be gone for a few days? That won’t make the authorities do anything.
There’s nothing to do but to keep going to class as usual. Since Luther’s being investigated right now due to my tip to the dean and Dacre is nowhere to be found, that leaves only one other person to teach the culinary club.
“You’re still here?” Verity brushes past me and dumps her purse on the countertop. Her usual polish is dulled by the dark circles under her eyes.
“I’m not in the mood,” I say. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“I don’t want you here. It’s your fault Luther is gone.” She hooks a hand at her waist. “Happy?”
“I don’t care what you think of me. I’m here. Get used to it.”
Cooking is the only thing keeping me sane, and I won’t give it up easily, not when it’s all I have.
“Suit yourself. But I need you to make sure the kitchen is spotless. Mr. Everhart is coming. He can spot a sprinkle on the ground, and I know you love dirtying up the kitchen in the morning with all your baking.”
My heart skips.
“Clyde Everhart is coming . . . today?”
That sick unease slips its way down my spine. Wouldn’t that mean Dacre should be back? I get the itch to check my phone again, but I’ve got it set to vibrate. I’d know if he’d tried to contact me.
“Yes, will that be a problem for you?”
“No, Chef.”
I break for lunch when there’s no sign of Dacre’s grandfather.
As much as I’d love to wait around in the lounge and see if he shows up at noon, I need to check on Evangeline, who has said very little over the last few days.
When I don’t find her in the dining hall, I head to her door at Stelliea House. There’s no answer to my knock.
She should be in class right now. If I were my sister and I weren’t in class or eating, where would I be?
The Stelliea garden is the next place I check. It’s huge. I comb the rows and rows of pumpkins and herbs and come up with nothing. I don’t have special senses like Weres or vampires, but I do know my sister. If she wanted to be alone, she’d do so outside.
I see a break in the woods just a few feet away that’s lined with cobblestones and fairy lights, leading away from the garden. Her pink bow sticks out in the wash of orange and yellow leaves around us. Her silhouette is seated on a tree stump next to a small pond.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, careful not to muddy my shoes, and sit beside her.
“Hiding.” She sighs. “Orientation is done, and . . . I have to find someone to donate to. I’m trying to avoid anyone claiming me right away.”
“No way it’s that quick.”
“I think Luther figured he’d be the first one to claim my blood before he was investigated.
Guess that backfired. Dad talked to his father today and I don’t think it went well.
” She’s not looking at me, but staring a hole into the bark of the tree next to her, while picking pieces off a dead leaf.
“I feel so . . . silly for being so upset. Mom donated. Maybe it’s not a big deal. ”
“That was different. She chose to do that. You get to choose too.”
It is a big deal to us. Mom dying of complications from donating changed our family forever, and she never mentioned wanting us to join the Donor Program when we were kids. I think she wanted us to choose that for ourselves.
She shrugs. “Maybe this is what I’m meant to do. Maybe . . . I’m too much of a coward to choose, so the stars chose for me.”
Her voice is despondent, and her cheeks are hollow. Not even the sunshine breaking through the trees brightens her features.
“No. Some asshole pulled the strings behind your back. This isn’t some weird fate thing. Someone is messing with us. They want to use our blood for their own gain.”
She nods as if she understands, but I know her. Evangeline’s vacant expression tells me she’s already made up her mind, and her conclusion is usually that she’s the problem.
“I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Zant volunteered to be my first donee. It won’t be so bad. I’ll make the most of it . . . That’s what Mom would do.”
A twig snaps under my foot. This sickness that I feel is churning into burning rage.
I clench my teeth together as it travels up my throat.
Evangeline’s always been the quietest about Mom’s death, but as a child, she took some weird responsibility for it.
I’ve never understood why. She won’t really talk about it and only gives vague hints that she wishes she’d done something to prevent it, like if she had wished hard enough, it would have worked out.
But her silence never bothered me because I know she misses Mom just as much as I do, and that’s why this is wrong.
Mom wouldn’t want us to be forced into anything.
She’d want us to choose our own fate.
“You and Olivia have your things, and maybe this is what I’m meant for.”
I can’t believe this is happening, and I can’t believe I’m just letting it happen. These people are hurting the people I love, and for what? For money? For blood?
I stand and brush off my skirt.
“Did I make you mad? I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s not you. I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
“Where are you going?”
I don’t answer as I tear through the trees and head back toward the castle. My name echoes through the trees, but it only adds to my momentum. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t have to sit around and do nothing but be sad about it.
I won’t wait for fate to happen to us. I will choose what happens next. I’m practically sprinting across the lawn, putting my phone to my ear.
“Parker?”
“Yeah, Em. What’s up?”
“I need you to look for Dacre.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“He . . . sent me this message. It’s not like him . . . Maybe I’m wrong, but I haven’t heard from him in days, and I know you can do that thing where you ask around and make things happen.”
“Okay . . . Do you know where to look?”
“Kind of. Meet me in my room in thirty minutes with Olivia, okay? If you don’t hear from me, something happened.”
“Whoa, wait. Where are you?”
I end the call and rake my knuckles on the door to Dacre’s grandfather’s office. He better be here by now. I’m tired of waiting.
“Hello? Sir? It’s Emma Osborne. I need to speak with you.” When there’s not an immediate answer, I pound harder. “It’s important.”
There’s a rustling on the other side, and to my surprise, the door creaks open.
Clyde appears, dressed in his usual suit, with no concern to speak of in his features. It’s not the look of someone who has murdered his grandson, so that’s a plus.
“Yes, how may I help you?” He’s got a bowl of walnuts in his hand.
I make my way inside despite not being invited and stand next to the fireplace.
“I want to know where Dacre is. He left, and I can’t get a hold of him.”
“I assure you, my grandson is in fine health.”
He slinks around to the edge of his desk, his brows lifting in surprise when I don’t settle. Oh, he’s good at this.
“Sir, respectfully, can you prove it? This is important . . . I have to know. I’m really worried about him.”
The wrinkles around his eyes multiply as he scans me. He must understand I’m not going to take “no” for an answer because he finally nods, pulling out his phone from his pocket and leaving his walnuts on the desk.
“We had a meeting, and he had to take a few days off to attend business at another one of our estates. I’ve been informed he made it to the estate, and he’s signing some important documents while with his fiancée’s family.”
My heart drops, possibly shatters. Keep it together, Em. He’s probably lying.
“His fiancée?”
“Yes. We’re very excited for the upcoming nuptials and have started to plan the wedding. He was in good spirits when I left him. Here. We have cameras at all our estates. Would you like to see him?”
I look away into the fireplace. He’s lying. Dacre wouldn’t do that.
“Here. Take a look for yourself.”
Only, obviously, I was wrong because on his phone, Dacre sits in an office much like this one, and next to him is that woman from the dinner. The fiancée.
I try to find a flaw with the video and look for any sign of fabrication, but that’s him conversing with her, and in that conversation, there’s laughter and that dimpled smile I love.
Dacre . . . lied. He’s going through with the arrangement. My heart aches, and I cross my arms over my chest to alleviate the growing emptiness. This can’t be true, can it?
“I’m sorry, is there a reason you’re worried about him?”
“No, sir . . . I . . . That . . . is all I need to know.”
I miss the anger as quickly as it leaves because a sob builds in my throat, and I swallow it. What does this mean? Was he playing me? Did he know about my family being targeted and not say anything? Was he lying this entire time?
I have so many questions. So many doubts circle in my head, and I don’t know which to hold on to. Could this still be a lie? Am I just thinking that to cope with the weight in my chest because Dacre’s betrayal would gut me?
Something in Clyde’s eyes softens when he takes his phone back. “Anything else? You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
The true reason for my walking into this office resurfaces. Clyde Everhart is the only person I know with enough power to help me.
“Recently, Luther and his father tricked my sister into signing papers for the Donor Program. The dean tells me there’s nothing we can do, but I . . . I know that’s not true, because you can do something about it. You’re the chairman, aren’t you?”
“I’m afraid—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer here, sir. I know you can help her. What do I need to do to ensure she’s out and her contract is void? Today. She’s already been through a lot, and she feels very strongly about not being in the Donor Program. I’ll do anything to keep her out.”
My sister has no choice, but I do. If joining the gala ensures peace for my family, then it’s something I’ll do. If Dacre weren’t in the picture, I would have considered it a long time ago.
“When you refused my invitation to the gala, I secured a few alternate candidates, but . . . your presence would cause quite a stir. Contracts are not easily broken in the Donor Program, but I could call in a favor.”
“I’d need your word. A contract. Something, because people keep targeting my family, and I need to do something to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I can fix your sister’s situation.”
I grab a pen from the cup holder on his desk, despite the numbness in my fingers.
“Perfect. Then we have a deal.”