14

I t felt wrong to leave things with Gabriel on a bad note going into the weekend, but there was no helping it. Miles hadn't seen him since he'd stormed away that morning and he hadn't worked up the courage to text him yet. The flashing line at the beginning of a blank message was inexplicably intimidating.

"Miles, what are you doing? Come on."

He looked up from his phone to find his dad watching him in the rearview mirror—he hadn't even noticed they'd parked.

"Sorry. I'm coming."

The difference between the Bryant house and the Hawthorne estate was immediately noticeable. Sure, it was still double the size of Miles's house, but he wouldn't call it a mansion . Made of pinkish-hued brick rather than bleak stone, the driveway lined with hedges and rose bushes, it radiated warmth. The windows glowed with soft light, a cheerful autumn wreath hanging on the front door in shades of orange and yellow. It was leagues more welcoming than the Hawthorne home.

Miles closed the car door behind him. All he found waiting for him was the crisp breeze stirring leaves across the lawn, and the smell of freshly cut grass. No oppressive aura here.

And, even better, no valets racing over to move their car.

His mom got out of the passenger seat, a carefully wrapped gift in hand. She was dressed in pink, a shade that perfectly matched the shiny bow atop the gift, and she was smiling.

The same couldn't be said for Charlee. She had her arms crossed, dragging her feet all the way up the driveway.

Miles prodded her. "C'mon, you'll be fine. Think of the cake."

"Not a fair exchange for having to socialize," she grumbled. Miles hadn't asked her to come, but knew she was here because she was scared he'd have another vision. She'd been practically glued to his side since then.

"I'm glad you came," he told her sincerely.

As with the Hawthorne party, an overwhelming swell of emotions hit Miles with the strength of a tidal wave as they entered the house. He paused to stabilize his mental walls against being washed away.

"Let's find Jane and wish her a happy birthday," his mom said, trying to peer through the crowd.

Since the Bryants lived in a normal home without a massive ballroom, the party was spread throughout the bottom floor. Small groups were scattered through the sitting room, kitchen, and dining room, and double doors were open to a back garden, bulbous golden lights strung up to illuminate the space as the sun finished its leisurely descent under the horizon.

Family photos hung on the walls instead of oil portraits, broken up by pieces of colorful art. This was how regular people decorated—overbearingly cheerful with a certain amount of tacky and just a hint of potential serial killer.

Several people nodded hello to them as they made their way through the house. Miles was glad he wasn't overdressed in his olive-green sweater and black slacks. He'd only worn the slacks because his mom refused to let them leave until he'd changed out of his favorite jeans with a hole in the knee. According to her, "casual" didn't mean "zero effort." Charlee had snickered at him, but changed out of her joggers into a floral-print skirt.

They found Jane in the back garden, wearing an exceptionally bright highlighter-orange dress and holding a drink in each hand. Next to her, a slatted table stood stacked high with presents.

"Happy birthday," his mom said, leaning in to press a kiss to Jane's cheek. She added her gift to the table. "Thank you again for the invite."

Jane flapped her hand, nearly spilling one of her glasses. "Of course, I'm so glad you could make it. Help yourself to the food and drinks, we'll be having cake at seven. And, a warning—Felicity is here."

Miles's mom blanched. "Felicity Hawthorne?"

Nodding, Jane leaned in. "She showed up without any warning. I sent her an invitation, of course, like I do every year, but she never actually comes. She's playing nice—complimented the party and even brought a gift—but I know you two don't get along."

Miles and Charlee grimaced at each other. Before they left, Sarah had told them both firmly she didn't want to hear any complaints—they'd be getting free food and a party devoid of Hawthorne snobbery. As Miles watched his mom process what she was hearing, he could sense her mood rapidly nosediving.

"It'll be fine," he told her. "This is a big party, I'm sure we can easily avoid her."

He was trying to convince himself as much as her. Avoidance was going to be key, because if Felicity had any idea he'd been at her house or was talking to her son, he wasn't leaving here alive.

Of course, because his life was nothing but a giant joke lately—one he was the butt of—Felicity Hawthorne appeared over his mom's shoulder. She saw them and didn't hesitate to stride over.

"Okay, scratch that, she saw us," he said quickly. "She's coming over here right—" He sucked in a gasp when he saw Gabriel trailing behind Felicity, impassively scanning the crowd, his hands tucked into his pockets.

When Jane said Felicity was here, he hadn't even considered Gabriel might have come along with her. He hadn't mentioned anything earlier.

Charlee grabbed his arm—he didn't know if she was trying to brace him or herself—as Felicity drew nearer. He'd forgotten Charlee hadn't had the pleasure of meeting her yet.

"Sarah," Felicity said, giving Miles's mom a once-over. "You look… well, your clothing stands out, doesn't it?"

Miles had never heard a compliment wielded with such a razor-sharp edge before.

Jane laughed like it was the funniest joke, high-pitched and uncomfortable. Her dress was even more blinding next to Felicity's solid black, perfectly pressed pantsuit. She gulped down the last of her drink, and said, "Oh, there's Bernice, I'd better go say hello," before scurrying away.

"Felicity," Miles's mom said coolly, crossing her arms. "What could we possibly have done to deserve your presence here tonight? Adam, we didn't hit a dog on the way over, did we?"

Miles clamped his teeth together to catch his snicker. Drawing attention to himself wouldn't be a good idea. He snuck a peek at Gabriel, who surprisingly, also appeared to be struggling not to laugh.

Despite the casual dress code, he was in his typical white button-up and dark pants, a light brown sweater vest that looked ridiculously soft—probably a rare cashmere that people sold their souls to get ahold of—completing his decidedly not casual outfit.

What was he even doing here?

Charlee pinched him, drawing his attention back to the mom-showdown.

"Very amusing. You can thank my son for making us come. He's decided it's important to mingle with…" Felicity paused, searching for the word. "… Acquaintances. It's been years since I've been to one of these, so I decided to indulge him."

Gabriel had no interest in mingling with anyone, so he must've come here searching for Miles. And if he'd risked that, something must've happened. Something serious enough that he needed to talk to Miles in person.

A swell of worry rose in Miles's throat—it couldn't be good news. Had he somehow figured out what Miles had read in Jocelyn's journal? Did he know Miles suspected dark magic?

"I'm sure everyone is glad you made an appearance," Miles's dad replied diplomatically.

Miles watched Felicity, curious to see if she acted differently around his dad, but she turned to Charlee. "Who is this? Another of your children?"

"My sister's daughter." Charlee, to her credit, didn't flinch away from Felicity's frigid appraisal. "Charlee, meet Felicity Hawthorne."

"I remember Robin," Felicity said. Miles had a sinking feeling. "She was quite talented, before she let herself get caught up in her husband's passing. I hear she can't do much of anything now. What a tragedy."

Her tone dripped with sympathy—coming from anyone else, it might have been convincing. But no one here was that naive. Charlee flinched as if Felicity had slapped her.

Miles opened his mouth, about to say something he'd regret, but Charlee's hand tightened around his arm, nails digging into flesh. He clenched his jaw, his teeth barricaded against the words fighting to get out.

It didn't go unnoticed by Felicity, her eyes glittering as they slid over to him. Daring him.

Miles refused to turn away. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He blamed Charlee's presence for giving him a dangerous illusion of courage.

"Mother." Impatience colored Gabriel's tone as he interrupted their glare-off—which, for the record, Miles was winning. "We were supposed to find the Ambroses." He wasn't looking at Miles, wasn't giving him any hint of what he wanted.

"And we were about to find the drink table," Miles's dad said, taking the opportunity to escape. "Excuse us, Felicity, enjoy the party."

Miles dragged Charlee away. He didn't stop until they reached the kitchen, steering her over to the counter lined with glasses of champagne. Thankfully, his parents had followed behind them.

His mom had a scarlet flush creeping up her neck. "Are you okay?" she asked Charlee.

"Fine." She clearly wasn't. "You all warned me she was awful. I just wasn't expecting her to be here."

Miles put his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean against him, shielding her from prying stares for a moment.

Sarah grabbed a flute of champagne from the table, downing it like a shot. "Well, she's not going to ruin my night. Over my dead body." She was so mad that Miles could feel it pulsing against his mental walls, the beat of a war drum.

"She's trying to get a rise out of you," his dad said calmly, "so the best thing you can do is ignore her and have a good night."

Smoothing her hair back, his mom took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. "You're right, you're right. Of course she is, coming here with that boy of hers so the two of them can sneer down their noses at everyone. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, from the looks of him."

That didn't exactly seem fair.

Adam stepped in before she could keep going. "Why don't we go grab some food? Miles and Charlee, will you find us a place to sit down?"

"Sure," he agreed, already feeling claustrophobic at the prospect of pressing his way through the mass of bodies.

Charlee had collected herself, back to annoyed seething. She stuck by Miles's side as they wiggled through the crowd towards the sitting room. If not for her beside him, Miles would have made a sprint for the nearest exit.

Twice, dark hair had him leaning around people to peer through the crowd. And twice, disappointment flooded him when he realized it wasn't Gabriel.

What was the plan here? And how was Miles supposed to figure it out? Should he start mentally yelling that he was going to slip away to an empty hallway if any mind reading boys wanted to join him, then go stand around in hopes Gabriel heard?

They managed to find an unoccupied sofa in the second sitting room, shoved into the corner by a worn piano. It would be a tight squeeze for all four of them, but anything was better than awkwardly standing around. Charlee collapsed with a heartfelt sigh, tucking her curls behind her ears.

"So, that was Gabriel. He's got his mom's whole"—she motioned vaguely—"frosty ice-queen thing down."

"Yep."

"That doesn't bother you?"

He shrugged. It did, but it also didn't. Maybe because Gabriel didn't like his mom. Maybe because, as much as he copied her mannerisms and looked like her, he also didn't. The curl tucked in the corner of his mouth when he was trying not to laugh, the way he softened around his younger brother, how his eyes sparked when impatience and annoyance cracked through his cold front.

Charlee's mouth twisted. "You've got it bad."

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"Just calling it as I see it."

"You're not seeing anything."

"I should go find him. Bump against him, see what I pick up."

"Don't you dare."

"Why not? Scared I'll see something about you?"

He really was.

Charlee's teasing grin faded as he tried and failed to conjure up a snippy response. "Okay," she said softly, "I won't. I was joking anyway."

She stood without warning. "I do need to use the bathroom, though. What's the chance I'll find it on the first try and make it back without being roped into small-talk trap?"

"I'd say a solid zero."

"That's what I thought." She frowned. "If I need an emergency extraction, I'll scream."

Taking an exaggerated inhale like she was diving into a pool, she made her way into the party, and Miles lost sight of her.

He saw Emily making her way through the crowd a split second before she noticed him, a smile dimpling her cheeks. She changed course and dropped onto the empty couch cushion beside him.

"Hey!" Her hair was in matching puffy buns atop her head, and she was wearing a red velvet dress. Flashy gold stars hung from her ears, glinting when she shifted. "I figured I'd better find you before we get dragged together." She was aiming for carefree, but a bitter undercurrent cut through her words.

"Your mom already at it?"

"She never stops. I swear, she's driving me bonkers."

Miles couldn't imagine. "At least with mine, it's just about my non-existent social life and lack of awkward first dates. She's convinced herself I'm missing out on some essential teenage rites of passage."

"No first dates, huh?" Emily leaned back to give him a thoughtful scan. "Why not? You grew out of your big ears, and you know how to talk to girls like we're real people."

Ha. It was a lot easier to treat someone normal when raging hormones weren't involved.

"My mom says I suffer from debilitating shyness," he responded jokingly.

To his relief, she laughed. "I wish that excuse would work on mine. I mean, I get where she's coming from. Marrying my dad opened a lot of doors for her, gave her a lot of opportunities that're important to her. But she doesn't get that they're not important to me ."

"Mine's like that, too. She keeps explaining what she was doing at my age, like hearing it will change me into a different person. Someone who's outgoing and has friends and gets invited to things and—" He cut himself off.

But Emily nodded earnestly. "No, no, I totally get it. I swear, my mom would rather have a clone than a daughter. She can't comprehend that we're different people and I might have different goals from her."

"It's hard when you don't even have your parents on your side."

"Yeah." She ran her fingers over a snag in her black tights. "We should start a pushy-moms club. Compete to see whose is worse. Though, I should warn you, I'll win every time. A few weeks ago, mine tried to get me to ask Edmund Hawthorne out in front of his mom because it would ‘make a good impression.' After telling me to make sure I mentioned I was a medium. Apparently, it's a good selling point to marry me off."

Yuck. "Did you? Ask him out, I mean?"

"Definitely not. I'm not going to be set up with a guy I don't know. Plus, the serial-killer gloves don't really do it for me."

Miles recalled the black leather gloves Edmund had been wearing the other evening—so that wasn't a one-time thing. Maybe he had a skin condition.

"I don't blame you. The least she could do is give you a chance to find someone you like before she starts worrying about marrying you off."

"That would be too reasonable of her." Emily exhaled through her nose, drawn-out and weary. "Sorry for unloading on you. You've always been so easy to talk to. I guess it's the perk of being an empath. I feel like you get it."

He did, but not because of his gift.

"I'm sorry I didn't try harder," he blurted out. He'd needed to say it to her for a long time. Talking to her now, he realized how much he'd missed her over the years. "To stay friends, I mean. Especially during the divorce."

She gave him a tentative smile. "It's okay. That's a twoway street, you know? I think I just got it in my head that I was a third wheel. You and Charlee were so close, like you only ever needed each other, so when we started to fall apart, I let it happen. And…" Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. "To tell the truth, I think it was hard for me to be around you guys then. A happy family, you know?"

"I'm sorry."

"Why would you think you need to apologize for that?" She nudged him with her shoulder. "Hey, we're good. Still friends, I promise."

She unclasped the gold charm bracelet from her wrist and placed her hand palm up on her knee. It took Miles a moment to understand what she was doing. To remember. Every time they called a fight quits or Emily made a promise, she'd take off her protection charms, hold out her hand, and challenge him to check her emotions, prove that she meant it. A silly ritual between two kids that he hadn't thought about in years.

He laughed quietly and took her hand, pulling back his shield a smidge, enough to send a feeler out. Her emotions were loud, pushing their way into his space, same as always. Warm fondness, a soft echo of wistfulness, and a playful sort of happiness that nipped along his skin.

Still friends.

"I've missed hanging out with you," he said, because it was true. "She'll never say it, but Charlee does, too. She's actually here, if you wanna wait and see her. We could… plan something together, if you wanted."

Emily gave his fingers an excited squeeze. "I've got soccer practice after school most days, but—"

"There you are, Miles. I've been looking for you," a cool voice interrupted her.

Miles's stomach plummeted. Gabriel was standing in front of them, not remotely worried that he was making it obvious they knew each other in front of at least a dozen people. He didn't even lower his voice. And his smile was so wide, all toothy and scary.

This was his plan? Coming up to Miles in the middle of the party with no subtlety or attempt at secrecy? Miles's parents would be coming back any second. Was he trying to get them killed?

Gabriel turned his shark-smile on Emily. "Sorry for the interruption, I'm always having to pull Miles away from frivolous distractions. We haven't met yet." He held out his hand. "I'm Gabriel Hawthorne."

Miles was on the verge of panic. What was Gabriel doing ?

"Uh, hi." Emily shook his hand, confused. If she'd seen him around school, she must not have realized who he was. "I'm Emily Montero."

"I know. I've heard all about you." His tone made it sound like a bad thing.

"And I've heard about you. Aren't you two supposed to be enemies? Or is that all exaggerated?"

"Yes," Miles hurried to say.

"No," Gabriel said at the same time.

Emily's eyebrows lifted. If Miles could kick Gabriel without her noticing, he would. Repeatedly.

"It's a long, enthralling story," Gabriel said. "But Miles and I need to talk. Alone. It's important. I'm sure you understand."

She stood, her charm bracelet in hand. "I was just leaving." Her expression clearly asked what the hell was going on.

Miles mirrored her, trying to think of an excuse and coming up empty. It was far too late to deny they knew each other. "We, uh… it's complicated."

It was as good of a descriptor as he was going to find. Dealing with a complicated boy with a complicated death premonition hanging over him, who was part of a complicated family who had a complicated relationship with Miles's. "I'll explain later, okay?"

If his mom hadn't murdered him by then.

"Okay. Later, then." She gave Gabriel an uncertain smile. "Nice to meet you?"

He didn't respond. After a strained moment, Emily turned and left.

Miles's palms were sweating. He could sense people staring. How had everything gone so terribly wrong in the span of a few seconds? He knew the answer. It was standing beside him in self-satisfied silence, watching Miles's world burn around him after lighting the fuse.

Whirling around, he grabbed Gabriel by the arm and pulled him out of the sitting room into a nearby empty hallway that led deeper into the house. Gabriel came along easily, not even pretending to resist.

"What the hell?" Miles demanded once they were out of earshot and view of the other guests. "Have I done something to piss you off?"

Gabriel tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, straightening out his shirt with an air of nonchalance that made Miles's blood boil. "Not last time I checked."

"Then what the hell was that ? We agreed our parents can't know we're talking." It would be a miracle if rumors weren't already swirling around that Gabriel Hawthorne was acting very familiar with Miles Warren. Not familiar, but friendly . Oh, the scandal. It would be minutes, at most, before his parents heard, or, oh God, Felicity. "Emily's probably telling—"

"Emily ," Gabriel interrupted, "isn't telling anyone anything. You're completely overreacting."

"Overreacting? You have no idea how much trouble I'm going to be in. My mom would have an aneurysm if she found out I'd even talked to you, let alone…"

Miles was breathing hard, his whole body feverishly hot. He'd backed Gabriel into the wall, the muscles in his legs trembling. They wanted him to run, but he was rooted in place.

Gabriel couldn't have seemed less concerned, leaning against the wall and tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. "Let alone what?" he challenged.

He was playing it cool, but Miles could see his pulse jumping in his throat.

"That I'm trying to save your life. Though right now, I'm seriously rethinking that decision." Miles wished his heart would slow down—he was starting to feel woozy.

"That girl isn't saying anything." Gabriel sounded confident. "No one noticed a thing until you dragged me out of there. You made a bigger scene than I did, really."

"You don't know that. She could be telling—"

"Actually, I do know that."

Oh. Right. Mind reading.

"She's already seen us together at school, she just didn't know who I was."

"Who you are is the problem."

"She was going to find out eventually. And she didn't care; she's not running off to tell anyone. She's mostly curious."

"It was stupid," Miles said, too tired to argue as the panic faded. There was nothing he could do now but hope Gabriel was right. "I don't know what you were thinking."

Gabriel was silent for a long second. "I wasn't. Is that what you want me to say?"

His admission surprised Miles into silence. They watched each other warily.

Gabriel rarely did anything without thinking it through first. He'd acted irrationally, almost as if he was… jealous. Miles might've been flattered, but he was pretty sure he was the first friend Gabriel had ever had. He gave off the vibes of a bratty kid who never learned to share his toys.

"You can't be awful to my other friends, okay? I'll give you a pass this time because your social skills are stunted, but it's not cool."

Gabriel's answering nod was less petulant than expected, so Miles took it as a win and let it drop. Partially because, despite his frustrating behavior, Miles was relieved he was here. Relieved he didn't have to withstand the weekend while wondering if they were okay and worrying about him.

"What're you even doing here?" Miles was afraid to ask. "Did something happen?"

"What do you mean?"

What did he mean? "Well… you're here. I assumed you had something important to tell me that needed to be in person." Like he knew Miles had figured out the Hawthornes' nefarious family secret. "Something worth risking coming here with your mom."

"Oh. That." Gabriel cleared his throat, glancing away. "I came to tell you I have an idea. Could you get away for a few hours tomorrow? The earlier the better."

For once, fate was on their side. "My parents will be gone all day—they're going over to Spokane to help a family with an urgent haunting. The drive there alone will be at least three hours. I'm sure Charlee can watch my sisters if I ask." And threw in a hefty sugary bribe.

"Perfect. Pick me up at my house at eight. I'll wait outside the gates."

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"No, I thought I'd let you drive in a random direction and see where we end up," Gabriel deadpanned. "There's a senior care facility about an hour away where my great-grandmother Marjorie lives. She happens to be Florence's daughter. I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about needing to find out what truly happened to Jocelyn, your suspicion that Florence is responsible for her death. Since the books have been failing us, why not speak to someone who knew Florence personally?"

"That's… a really good idea." One Miles hadn't even stopped to consider.

"I know."

Miles waited, but Gabriel didn't say anything else.

"Why didn't you just text me that?"

A flush spread across the bridge of Gabriel's nose and down his cheeks. "I guess I forgot."

Miles snickered. "You're seriously such a grandpa. Phones were made for a reason, you know."

They'd been away too long. Miles knew his parents might be searching for him, that they or Felicity could appear at any second. He didn't know which scared him more.

He needed to leave, but his feet wouldn't move. "So… a road trip, huh? Should I pack snacks?"

Gabriel looked less than thrilled. "An hour drive barely counts as a road trip. Surely you can survive that long without eating."

"First rule of road-tripping—don't let the driver get hangry, or he might leave you in the middle of nowhere."

"The first rule should be: don't leave your passenger in the middle of nowhere or he'll have your car towed to the junkyard where it belongs."

It felt wrong to laugh when he was threatening Blanche, but Miles couldn't help it. Even Gabriel cracked a smile. A small one, hidden in the corner of his mouth unless you were looking for it. "Do you think she'll answer our questions? Your grandma?"

Miles was going to have to tell Gabriel what he'd found before they got there. At least they'd have an hour trapped in the car together to hash it out. To confront him. Ask if he was involved in what his family was doing.

Uncertainty had gnawed away at him all day, but now that Gabriel was in front of him, he couldn't help but feel he already knew the answer.

Or he was a gullible idiot.

"I'll figure it out."

Miles knew better than to pressure him. "Okay. I guess we don't have anything to lose." He glanced down the hall. "I should get going."

"Back to Emily?" There was a stinging acidity to Gabriel's voice. Miles could practically see a "Proceed with Caution" sign.

"Back to the party . Emily's nice, but I don't like—" The rest of the sentence got stuck, refused to come out.

"What?" Gabriel pushed.

He'd been planning to say "her," but he met Gabriel's eyes and—

"Girls." It was the first time in his life he'd said it out loud. It was such a relief not to lie. "I don't like girls."

He wasn't sure how he expected Gabriel to react. He hadn't even entertained the possibility of telling him before this. Charlee had already known when they sat down to talk; so much of their conversation had been unspoken.

Gabriel cocked his head slightly, coolly scanning Miles from his boots up to his unbrushed hair. The silence stretched on for a moment longer and then—

"Okay."

" Okay?"

"That's what I said." Amusement glinted in Gabriel's gaze. "Do you need me to repeat myself?"

Miles had been afraid that Gabriel would treat him differently; he obviously shouldn't have worried. He was still being an ass.

Before he could respond, footsteps came down the hall towards them. He jumped back from Gabriel, but he had nowhere to go.

Charlee came around the corner, saw them, and froze. A mix of emotions flashed across her face, one after another, before settling into a deceptive calm, the moment of silence before a boom of thunder. "I've been looking for you," she told Miles tightly. "Your parents were asking where you went."

Shit.

"Thanks. I lost track of time." Irrational guilt choked at him—he and Gabriel hadn't been doing anything bad.

Beside him, Gabriel studied Charlee. He had his hands tucked back into his pockets, shoulders in a familiar set line. "You must be the angry cousin."

She glared at him. "And you're the snotty Hawthorne brat."

Okay, enough of that.

"C'mon." Miles took Charlee's hand and pulled her away from the sole person he wasn't sure she could beat in a verbal fight. Gabriel watched them go. "I don't want my parents getting suspicious."

"Should've thought about that before you snuck off with your secret boyfriend," she hissed angrily. Miles hoped Gabriel hadn't heard her.

It was a weird place to part ways again, but he couldn't risk going back. He couldn't say what had possessed him to share his biggest secret, but it was done. Nothing he could do now.

They rejoined the party. His parents were in the kitchen, talking with Jane again over a massive tiered pink cake. Miles's stomach was in his shoes as he walked over, remembering why he'd dragged Gabriel away in the first place.

"Hey," his dad greeted them. "You two almost missed the cake."

His mom gave Miles a satisfied smile over her shoulder. "Did you want to take a piece to Emily? I just saw her a minute ago, and she said you'd already talked." She bumped him with her hip. "She seemed excited to see you."

"Yeah, it was a nice talk, I guess," he managed to get out around the horror and relief.

Gabriel was right. Emily hadn't said a thing.