Chapter Forty-Six
FORTY-SIX
THEY KILLED HER.
They killed Maureen.
And now I’m covered in her blood.
They killed Maureen, and I’m next.
I’m all alone. Again.
I’m sobbing.
Big, all-consuming gasps of anguish. Fat, wet rivulets running down my face.
Her blood is caked under my fingernails, staining my dress, coating my thighs and fishnets where I fell. Petunia stands in a pool of sticky burgundy gone black against the pink carpet. I can’t tell where it originates. I stumble toward the dog.
“Petunia? Hey, boy.” My voice cracks as I nearly fall across the crimson-soaked shag. “Are you okay?” I reach toward him, but he bares his teeth and growls at me. I halt, crouching down. “Are you hurt? Let me look at you. Where’s your mom?”
Is her body still here? Growing cold and stiff and swollen?
This time when I look around the room, it tells a different story.
Red. Sprayed against the walls, the overturned furniture, the windows.
Slashes dissect the couches, stuffing in piles like snowdrifts.
Books are strewn about, and several figurines are smashed.
Blood streaks toward the front door in a wide arc, as though someone has been dragged out of the house. I offer my hand to Petunia again.
“Please, Petunia! We need to get out of here!” I snap at the dog. I can’t stay here—whoever did this is probably monitoring the house.
The walls are closing in on me. I’m beginning to wobble and fall out of my crouched position. My palms slam against the ground.
I lose control of the magic curled around my fingers, and a spark singes the red that puddles beneath us.
A small tendril of smoke drifts into the air, the rancid smell of burnt blood making me gag.
I watch Petunia as he lifts his nose and sniffs, his snout wiggling.
A look of recognition crosses his horrified, onyx eyes.
Slowly he backs away, whimpering all the while, before turning and darting out of the still-open door.
I scramble to my feet and follow him. “Petunia!” I yell. “Stop! Wait!”
I skid to a halt on the front porch, looking out into the ink-black night. The air is dense and unseasonably humid, the sky crackling above, streaks of lightning still zipping through violet clouds.
With the light on, I can finally see that the blood trail winds straight from the door and down the steps. There’s a disturbance against the gravel driveway, tire tracks dug in harsh twin gashes.
Still, as I assess the scene, something about it just doesn’t make sense. Why would they take Maureen? Why would they kill her? Without her magic, there’s nothing for them to steal. Why wouldn’t they take me instead?
Numb, I turn around and head back inside. I take care to smudge my footprints and wipe every doorknob and place I have touched. I check the rooms for a body, but they’re empty. There’s not much I can do to erase my presence here, but I almost don’t care.
Because I’m empty inside, too.
I turn off the light and attempt to close the door behind me.
It won’t shut all the way, and now as I look closer, I see that the lock is broken. The frame is cracked like someone kicked it in.
Climbing on top of my bike, I rotate the pedals. I pump my legs. I look both ways before I pull onto the street. I keep to the side of the road. I listen as the forest resumes its song.
I don’t think about the way Maureen’s blood is drying against my skin.
At some point my tears had stopped. Which is fine by me. I have nothing left to give, anyway.
Maybe I should call the police. Maybe I should tell someone what I found. But Maureen’s warnings echo in my mind. She said that I’m not safe. That I need to protect myself. I think back to the women hanging from the southern trees.
Now that I know Malachi is a hunter and that he’s marked me, I know that if I’m killed, it will be by him alone. But thanks to him, I also know he’s not the only one out there.
Alastair’s voice plays in my mind, inviting me to the Night of Remembrance.
They have a plan for me.
Perhaps they’ve had a plan this whole time. Malachi, Alastair… maybe even Lucas.
And I’ve been exactly dumb enough to play into it.
Maureen was right. I can’t go to the police.
I’m not willing to risk everything by involving the only group of people I never trusted in the first place.
Besides, in my panic I cleaned up. For all I know, I erased evidence of the hunters as well.
If I try to go to the police now, who else are they going to blame but me?
When I get back to campus, I trudge through the silent quad.
Perched on the edge of the fountain are four blood-red birds with eyes that mock me as I pass.
I am so sick of seeing these goddamn birds!
What do they want from me? Cardinals warning me of what?
Some prophecy I have no control over? If I’m some stupid Cardinal Witch that’s supposed to save everyone, then where the hell are the other three?
I make it only a few steps past them before I can’t take it anymore. Growling, I turn, running headfirst toward them, waving my arms as I approach. They spook, scattering into the air as I crash into the fountain’s edge. Good. I think. Fuck those birds.
My footsteps echo softly in the hallway leading to my room. I can barely lift my feet from the ground. Every part of me feels weighed down by what’s happened.
Stepping over the mess of clothes and shoes scattered over the floor, I grab my shower caddy.
I avoid my reflection as I pass the mirrors on my way to the stall.
I peel off my blood-soaked costume, grateful that of any night, Halloween is the only one where looking like you’re fresh out of a crime scene is normal.
When the warm water hits me, I sag, my tears mixing with the rusty stream that’s circling the drain.
Afterward I crawl into bed and pull my sheets up to my chin, gazing at the sky through the large windows, cursing the stars that guide my magic.
What good is it to hold this power if there’s no one to teach me how to wield it?
If the only people who connect me to these strange abilities keep dying or disappearing… or worse?
As I drift into a fitful sleep, Maureen’s face appears in my mind, warnings like poison on her lips.
Behind her, blinking red eyes glow from between the trees.