Chapter 29
LYRA
The clatter of plates made me flinch. I rubbed the pressure points on my temple and closed one eye and then the other, but nothing helped. My headache still persisted because the spirits wouldn’t shut up.
“Do you have any Advil?” I asked Emory as she wiped pancake batter off her hands onto the front of her apron and rummaged through her purse.
“Yeah, here.” She tossed me the bottle. “Headache?”
“Yeah,” I said, wincing from the fresh scratches on my back from last night as I caught the bottle. I popped two brown oval pills into my mouth and swallowed. The headache was bordering migraine territory, but I had more important things to worry about.
Sacrifices. Spirits. Demons. You name it, Twisted Spires had it. And I was wasting my night, working this stupid campaign event. The whole town had shown up to the pancake social.
Small towns gotta love them.
I rubbed my neck and shoulders trying to ease the tension.
“How many more pancakes do you think we need to make?” Emory huffed. “My hand is starting to cramp.”
“Quit your whining and stir, Emory,” Cal said, bringing back another empty plate.
“I’m convinced you’re eating them all yourself.” Emory laughed as she took a break from mixing the batter to stare at Cal.
“Real subtle.” I nudged her in the ribs. She took the hint and went back to mixing with a limp wrist.
Dried batter crusted on my forearms, pulling the little hairs each time I flipped a pancake on the griddle. And I had flipped at least a hundred at this point.
Cal quickly depleted the stack I’d spent the last fifteen minutes making. His bulky frame squeezed between the closely packed tables, serving pancakes to everyone.
“Are you okay?” Emory leaned over to ask, careful not to dip the ends of her hair into the bowl of batter.
“Yeah.” I kept my focus on the griddle, watching the pancakes as they slowly took on the texture of the moon, its surface dotted with craters before flipping it.
“You’ve been acting weird.” A hint of worry echoed in her tone. “You know I’m here for you. No matter what.”
Her words were like a punch to the gut. I’d kept so many secrets. I wouldn’t even know where to start if I wanted to tell her what was happening.
“I think we deserve a break,” Kenna said, pulling up a chair. She hadn’t worn a drop of makeup. Not that she needed any, but it was rare to see her with a bare face.
“I think people are finally slowing down,” Cal said, grabbing a plate of his own, stacking five large pancakes on top of one another, and drowning them in a pool of syrup. The rest of us followed Cal’s lead and helped ourselves to whatever was left.
We migrated to a table in the back where Eli sat alone, grumpy and sullen.
“This is the biggest waste of time,” Eli said by way of greeting, pushing the uneaten stack of pancakes around his plate.
“It isn’t that bad,” Cal said, taking a seat next to Emory. “At least there’s pancakes.”
“That we had to make.” Eli tried and failed to keep his rising temper in check.
“Is sitting at a table in the back really helping?” Cal asked between mouthfuls of syrupy pancake goodness.
“I’m fucking here.” Eli’s fist smacked the table. A few heads turned in our direction to see what the commotion was all about.
Kenna reached over and put a hand on Eli’s thigh. He instantly stiffened at the contact, and she yanked it away.
“Sorry,” Kenna muttered, averting her eyes to the crowd gathered around her father.
I sank low in my chair, my ass almost falling off the seat in an attempt to keep out of Mr. Whitethorn’s line of vision. It had been a few days, and there was still no news on the fire. The rumor around town was that old, faulty wiring had been the cause.
“Did you guys hear about the girl they pulled from the river the other night?” Emory asked, lowering her voice to an almost inaudible whisper.
My stomach dropped.
“Yeah, I heard she drowned.” Cal didn’t whisper like Emory had, and the same nosy people turned to look at us again.
“Could you be any louder,” I scolded, shifting in my chair.
He rolled his eyes like I was the problem and not his big mouth.
“These are delicious, by the way.” Cal thankfully changed the subject. He inhaled an entire pancake in a single bite. “I’m going back for seconds.” He stood with his empty plate and strode across the room.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught an elderly gentleman approaching the table, and I braced myself for the dreaded small talk. But luckily, he turned to Kenna, falling into an easy conversation with her.
“Can we get out of here?” Emory mouthed, pointing toward the exit.
I nodded enthusiastically, reaching for my purse hanging on the back of the flimsy plastic chair, but the strap got stuck, and the chair flopped to the floor. So much for sneaking out.
“You fucking fucks.” Eli gave me the stank eye.
“You’re more than welcome to come with us.” I offered.
His eyes snapped to his father, who was too preoccupied to care what his son was doing. “Yeah, I’m down.” Eli shot from his chair, leading the way to the side door of our old high school gymnasium, one of the few buildings large enough to hold an event of this size.
We power walked toward the door, not giving a second glance at the room full of people.
One good thing about Dad always being gone was no one yelled at us for dipping out early on events. Eli, on the other hand, would get an earful for leaving.
I dug my keys from my purse and unlocked the car. We piled in, and Emory connected her phone to the aux cord. A second later, a song I’d never heard spilled from the speakers.
“Does anyone else have this perpetual feeling of dread looming over them? Or is it just me?” Emory asked.
When no one answered, she continued, “maybe some mango sticky rice will help with my upset stomach.” Emory typed on her phone, probably ordering from the Thai restaurant a few minutes from our house. “Should I get a double order?”
“If you wanted mango sticky rice you could have just said that. You didn’t have to make up an elaborate story,” I teased.
Eli sat quietly in the back. Not saying a single word.
A ringing filled the car, and before I could stop her, Emory hit the green little phone on the screen.
“I think we should try to summon the girl’s spirit,” Grey’s voice filled the car. “Maybe she can tell us who murdered—”
“You’re on speakerphone!” I shouted, cutting him off. I reached out to tap the screen, trying to end the call, but Emory smacked my hand away. The car swerved and my attention snapped back to the road.
“What’s going on?” Emory asked, eyes narrowing.
“Who the fuck is that?” Grey answered, still on the other end.
“Her sister, Emory. Who the fuck are you?”
I hung up the call, using the button on the steering wheel before anything more could be said.
Deafening silence filled the car. I gripped the steering wheel so tight the whites of my knuckles showed. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
I expected Emory to yell and scream, but it was Eli’s icy voice that said, “Lyra, what the fuck is going on?” Each word was calm and lethal. I could’ve sworn a hint of a shadow seeped from the back seat.
“The girl didn’t drown in the river.” I cleared my throat, taking a second to gather my thoughts. “She was murdered.”
“Murdered? Why do you think she was murdered?” Emory shouted, not nearly as calm as Eli.
“Well…” I swallowed hard.
Eli leaned forward. “You’re both fucking with me, right?” He looked at me, then Emory, and back at me again, waiting for one of us to start laughing.
I stared out the windshield as the car slowly rolled to a stop at the red light.
“Who was that on the phone?!” Emory threw her arms up in frustration. “Just tell us what’s going on.”
The light turned green, and I stepped on the gas a little too hard. Eli braced himself against the headrests. “Focus on the road.”
“You know I hate driving.” I hissed. “And it’s a little hard when everyone is yelling at me.”
“I’m yelling because you’re hiding something from us.” Emory jerked her thumb in Eli’s direction. “Just tell us what’s going on. I told you I had a weird feeling, and you let me think I was being paranoid.”
“I know…I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to do but apologize and spill my guts. The words tumbled out of my mouth. I told them about freeing Grey from the Whitethorn’s basement, the spirits acting strange, and the girl we found in the river.
“Shit, Lyra,” Eli leaned forward, sticking his head in between the two of us. “You didn’t have to keep this all a secret. We would’ve helped.”
My heart hammered as the familiar parking lot came into view. I’d mindlessly followed the whispers to the church.
I pulled out my phone and shot Grey a quick message.
Me: I’m at the church.
Grey: On my way. Don’t go in without me.
I stepped from the car, ignoring Grey’s demand.
“What are we doing here?” Emory slammed the car door shut. The crows perched in the trees scattered at the sudden noise, cawing to alert the others of the approaching danger.
“I don’t know, but the spirits wanted me here.” I stalked toward the trail leading into the forest, desperate to escape the conversation. Emory needed time to calm down, but she’d come around. Eli fell into step beside me. The walk was a familiar one for him. He’d come here with me countless times.
“Thank you,” I whispered. The tightness in my chest eased slightly.
“We’re not done talking about this.” Emory quickened her pace to catch up to us, and I gripped her hand in mine, leading the way. She took the hint. We’d talk later, but not now. Not here.
We walked in silence, too focused on our surroundings to speak. The light of the full moon shone through the bare branches of the trees like a beacon leading us straight to the doorway of the church.
Eli entered first, followed closely by Emory. I took a hesitant step inside, bracing for what, or who might be waiting.
Smack! A loud echo rang through the church.
“What was that?” I stood frozen in place.