Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
My dreams were dark and watery. I walked down a series of staircases, one after another after another, over and over again, only I wasn’t confused or lost. I knew exactly where I was going.
I walked straight into the dark, the same dark space I entered when I called my Magic.
But instead of the water that was usually present, Danica was there. Standing, smiling.
“Hello?” I asked.
She wasn’t wearing the dirty nightgown I’d seen her in last, but jean shorts and a tank top.
Everything else about her was the same, though.
The bruised skin, the shadowed eyes, the grim smile.
It was a sick juxtaposition, the outfit of countless girls I’d seen at the party mixed with her condition now.
“What are you doing here?” I asked again. It was so quiet, and Dani standing there, saying nothing, unnerved me. Her smile grew.
“Can you help me?” I asked, trying to steady my voice. I didn’t know why, but I thought if she knew I was afraid, it was only going to be worse for me. “I don’t—I’m not sure what happened. I need to get a message to Max.”
Abruptly, she turned, and walked back into the black behind her. “The truth will set you free,” she said, her voice echoing.
“What truth?” I asked, stumbling to keep up.
“The One truth.”
“Wait, where are you going?” I called, following her into the dark.
My eyes opened. I was on the floor of the bathroom, and Basile’s face stared into mine. I drew back quickly.
“Cella? Are you alright?”
His face was all smooth, stoic concern, the handsome lick of his hair perfectly placed against his forehead. I swallowed. I felt sick, heat sloshing against the sides of my gut.
My mouth tasted funny. My tongue was fuzzy and thick. A verse echoed in my head. The Devil has been sinning from the beginning.*
My hands flew to my waist. I looked down at my flats, which were still on my feet. My pants were zipped. Shirt was on, underwear, bra, everything felt … fine. Except it didn’t. Something had changed. Something had shifted.
“Did you drug me?”
“What?”
The door was ajar, and three of the others stood back, looking concerned. “You passed out in the bathroom,” a guy said, as if explaining the obvious to a child.
Paul nodded. “We would’ve left you in there, but we’ve only got one shower, and some of us work early shifts.”
Basile reached for me. “Are you alright?”
“You drugged me,” I said, jerking away from his touch.
He leaned back, wounded. He whipped his head back to Alex. “You didn’t warn her about the moonshine?”
“‘I told her this shit would fuck her up.’”
“That’s hardly a warning,” I seethed, and the others shook their heads.
Another of the brothers clutched his stomach. “That stuff is not fit for consumption.”
“So maybe I haven’t got the proportions of it right just yet,” Alex said.
“Yeah, you think?” said one of the others.
I shook my head. “Moonshine doesn’t make you pass out like that.” I shot an accusing glare at Basile. It didn’t make you remember things that didn’t happen. I reached up and felt a lump on my forehead. Must have hit the absolute crap out of my head on the way down.
“It does if you drank too much of it,” Alex said. “I suspect you’ll be feeling like crud for the rest of the day.” He looked at me. “Maybe a couple of days. You’ll be fine by the end of the week. By then I’ll have it sorted and a new batch started.”
“A new batch? You must be joking.” Paul hit him in the arm.
Basile didn’t take his eyes off me. “Look, you’re welcome to question the guys, but most of them are just as hungover as you. If you’re looking for someone who … drugged you, I assure you no one even noticed you were gone until the line for the bathroom started piling up.”
“And what about you? A little convenient, hmm? That I came to look for information on a fraternity that didn’t want me snooping and ended up passed out in their bathroom like some freshman who doesn’t know how to hold their liquor.”
Oops.
The room could’ve frozen over and it wouldn’t have felt colder. “Sorry, I thought you were here to have a couple of drinks and hang out. I didn’t realize you were spying on us.”
“That came out wrong, I—” But I’d already put my foot in my mouth.
“Well, Cella, I hope you got whatever it was you were looking for,” Basile said icily. “If you’ll excuse me.”
And then he left the room.
My path back outside was considerably more awkward than the few conversations I would’ve had to bumble through if I would’ve just stayed sober.
Why did I even drink at all last night? There was shit everywhere downstairs—half-empty cups and beer cans and bottles of energy drinks, wine bottles and bits and pieces of clothes and what I really hoped were gum wrappers. And the floor was so sticky.
These were the people I was so proud to have impressed?
I closed the front door of the house behind me, shaking off the last bit of chill, though no one was around to send me off. A few guys were snoring on the sofa. I felt a little like I was coming down with a fever.