Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Shy and the Salt Line

I wake up with a headache, and my tongue feels swollen. I roll over in bed and guzzle water before collapsing onto my back again. I patrolled after the game. It was necessary after Influence’s attack on Sean and Gage. On the heels of Council, the incident feels like a punch in the gut—as if I need another reminder of Influence’s growing power or more pressure to locate the Eurydice.

My eyes are still heavy, and I’d rather go back to sleep, but I have things to do today, so I get up and hop in the shower, turning the water on real hot. It pours over my body, easing my sore muscles. The only thing it doesn’t heal is the strange tension knotting up my chest. That’s from Anora.

I couldn’t admit to her that I’d found her in the woods yesterday because of the weird feeling in my chest. It’s like a freaky alarm system, except I still haven’t exactly figured out what it means. The only correlation I’ve made is that the longer I’m away from her, the worst the feeling gets.

I hate it.

Maybe hate is too strong a word. I like seeing Anora. I like talking to her, but I don’t like needing her. That’s a weakness, and weaknesses are to be conquered.

Maybe what I hate more is Thane showing up to let me know Anora was looking for him. Why are they hanging out together anyway? When did that start? I don’t like it.

He’s a death-speaker who knows about us and is involved in the Underworld and practices the occult. After his mom died, he became obsessed with learning about reincarnation, which is something I am not willing to support.

I guess I should have expected it. There was no way Thane and I could have remained friends with his interest in the dark practices. At some point, he was bound to do something I disagreed with, and staying friends with him would have gotten me in trouble with the Order.

No one talks about how crappy it is to lose a best friend, but it really freaking sucks.

And part of me wishes I could trust him with Anora.

But I can’t.

After my shower, I head downstairs. Mom’s shoveling eggs onto a plate. She turns to me and smiles.

“You’re up!” She leans forward to kiss my cheek, handing me the plate of eggs. “I made your favorite.”

My “favorite” is chocolate-chip pancakes with whipped cream and syrup. Mom always makes it when we’re celebrating something. Usually, every Saturday morning, it’s a win for my team. Today it’s my win and shadow knight appointment to tracker, except I don’t feel like celebrating my jump in rank all that much. I still feel uneasy about it, and I dread when Natalie finds out.

Mom and I sit down to eat; Dad’s seat remains unsurprisingly empty.

“I heard what happened at the game,” Mom says. “Is Gage okay?”

“I think he has a broken nose, but otherwise, he’ll be fine.”

Mom frowns. “And what about Sean?”

That is a harder question. There is no telling how long Influence had its hold on Sean or what sort of deep-rooted feelings manifested his actions last night. I’d heard all things that are common when dealing with Influence—he was such a cool guy, he was so funny, I can’t believe it. That’s how it works—it’s always the people you don’t expect doing things you don’t expect.

“I don’t know.”

Mom doesn’t say anything, and when I look up, I find her staring at me. “Have any plans today?”

I scrub my hand through my hair. “I…uh…I thought I might go see Anora.”

I’d been thinking about approaching her house again since the night with the telescope but hadn’t worked up the courage. After last night, today seemed just as good a day as any. The best way to catch someone unaware is to sneak up on them.

It’s also a good way to get chased by a hellhound. Thank Charon, they only come out at night. There’s also a chance she won’t talk to me after last night, but I’m hoping to be invited inside her house. Then I’ll have a chance to look for evidence to support—or disprove—Natalie’s claim that Anora’s responsible for Vera’s disappearance.

“Oh.” Mom tries to hide her surprise, but she’s unsuccessful. At least she didn’t spit out her food. “And do what exactly?”

Make out, I think sarcastically. Though it’s not all that sarcastic. If the opportunity presents itself, I’ll kiss Anora. I’ve wanted to since this feeling in my chest began, just to see if it would ease.

Instead, I shrug. I never like talking about girls with my mom when they’re Valryn. I definitely don’t like talking about them when they’re human. “I don’t know. Just…hang out.”

“Is your father aware?”

I clamp my teeth together before saying, “He was there when Elite Cain appointed me and Nat to the case.”

Elite Cain never specified how Natalie and I should go about observing Anora. And I haven’t gotten in trouble yet. So long as I can continue to prove my actions are to benefit the Order, I’m safe. But I know Mom’s concerns. The fiasco with Lily is still fresh in everyone’s mind.

“I like Jayne well enough, and I’m sure Anora is just as charming.” Mom stands and starts clearing away the dishes, so I do the same. As she passes, she stops and looks up at me. “Just…be careful, Shy.”

I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “I’m always careful.”

* * *

As I approach Anora’s house, I find her outside, crouched low on the ground beneath one of the windows. I come to a stop in the driveway, and she straightens, twisting, hiding something behind her back.

“Shy.” Her voice is full of surprise. I’m sure I’m the last person she expected to see in her driveway on a Saturday morning. She’s wearing jeans, a gray shirt, and a black jacket. Her hair falls in a thick mass over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d stop by, see if you were doing anything today,” I say as I approach her, hands in the pockets of my jacket. I grin at her, hoping she’ll smile back. I don’t like the disappointment I feel when she doesn’t.

“I’m kind of busy,” she says, and I glance behind her where a white substance covers the ground. My eyes narrow, but before I can ask, Anora’s name is called from inside the house. She goes rigid, and the static in my chest pops. The front door swings open, and the person I assume to be Anora’s mom stands there. She has dark, round eyes, and her cheekbones and chin are sharp as knives. She hesitates when she sees me.

“Hi,” her mom says, but it sounds more like a question.

“Mom, this is Shy,” Anora says quickly, indicating to me with her left hand. The right is still behind her back.

I wave at her and smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Silby.”

“Mom, you work for Shy’s mother at O’Connor Realty,” Anora says, and I can tell by the breathlessness in her voice—and the pinch at my chest—that this is making her anxious.

Ms. Silby smiles and moves closer to us on the porch.

“Oh! You’re Guiliana’s son? I’ve heard so much about you.”

I sort of laugh—I can just imagine how Mom brags. I’ve heard her before. “I hope she doesn’t talk about me too much.”

“She’s very proud of you,” Ms. Silby says. “But she’s not the only one who talks about you. Anora says you’re a great football player, practically won last night’s game single-handedly.”

I look at Anora, whose face has turned an enticing shade of pink. She looks at the ground, kicking at gravel with her foot. It’s a small consolation considering she won’t smile for me today.

“That’s too much credit, Ms. Silby. I’m nothing without my team.”

Ms. Silby smiles. It’s Anora’s smile, but there’s something less sincere about it. “Have you had lunch, Shy?”

“No, Ms. Silby.”

“Call me Jayne. And you should join us for lunch.”

“I’d love to.”

When Jayne goes back inside, Anora turns to glare at me.

“Why do you have salt behind your back?” I ask. I’m trying to be playful, but she’s not having it.

“To keep the dead away from my house,” she says.

It’s a challenge to keep a straight face. I’m surprised she’s being so direct.

I grin. “Salt’s not going to keep anything out…except maybe snails.”

“If you have any advice, I’d love to hear it.”

I pull my hand from my pocket where I’ve been rolling a stone between my fingers for the last several minutes and hold it out to her.

“What’s that?”

“Obsidian. It’ll keep evil at a distance for a lot longer than salt.”

She tightens her fingers around the rock and says, “Hmm. Must not work. You’re still here.”

I put my hand to my heart. “You wound me.” She glares and I frown. How have I become a bad guy overnight?

I shove my hands in my pockets again, feeling really freaking awkward. “You gonna show me around?”

Anora glances toward her house. “This is my house,” she says. “You saw it the other night when you creepily found it on your own.”

Yeah. Not scoring any points here. Things have definitely changed after last night.

At least I have a good excuse. “Hey, small town, remember? Everyone at school knows where you live.”

“Yeah, but they don’t drop by uninvited.”

She didn’t seem to mind the first time. I almost challenge her, but I’m not sure I want to hear her response.

She sighs. “Fine. Come on.”

I follow Anora inside. She leaves me in the entryway while she returns the salt to the kitchen. When she comes back, we stand facing each other.

“This is the living room.” She spreads out her arms and then lets them fall, slapping against her sides.

I raise my brows and maintain a smile. “Nice view.”

She turns, heading toward the stairs. They creak as we rise, and her mom calls from somewhere in the house, “Door open!”

Anora cringes, and I’m not sure it’s from embarrassment or the thought of kissing me. I’m really hoping it’s the former.

I follow Anora down the hallway. She turns and walks through a door on the right.

“This is my room,” she says.

I brush past her, the scent of roses and rosemary surrounding me as I observe her space. She has a twin bed with a purple comforter, and a four-drawer dresser sits opposite that. There are a couple of boxes in the middle of the floor she hasn’t unpacked yet, and the black telescope from the other night sits on a tripod near her window.

“Do you stargaze often?” I ask, already knowing the answer but noting several star posters pinned around her room.

“Sometimes. Mostly, it’s too bright.”

“How did you get started?”

She hesitates and then admits in a small voice. “My poppa. He bought me that telescope.” Her voice catches on the words, like she’s not used to saying them in past tense, and something far worse and bottomless opens up in my chest.

I frown. “I’m sorry,” I say and decide it’s best if I change the subject. I nod to the bookshelves on either side of her window. I knew she read a lot, just by the surveillance we’d conducted. “You have a lot of books.”

“It’s my goal to have the library in Beauty and the Beast one day.”

That makes me laugh. “If you could only take one of these with you to a desert island, which one would you bring?”

“That’s easy,” she says, and I feel her approach—my awareness of her pricks along my skin. “My special edition Lord of the Rings.”

When I look at her, she’s standing just a few steps away.

“What’s wrong?” I finally ask, frustrated by how distant she feels. She wasn’t like this prior to last night, but now she’s looking at me like I’m the enemy, and I don’t like it. “You’re…different.”

“I haven’t changed at all,” she says.

I twist toward her, closing the distance, but she backs away.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Instead of answering, she says, “Is everyone in this town a death-speaker?”

“I’m not a death-speaker.”

“If you aren’t a death-speaker, then what are you?”

This conversation is not going the direction I need it to.

“Where’d you learn about death-speakers?” I ask instead, but as soon as that question’s out of my mouth, I have an answer for it. “Thane.” Her eyes darken at my disdain. “So he’s why I’m suddenly a bad guy?”

“Actually, I learned about death-speakers from Natalie,” she says. “Thane just clarified, and you’re a bad guy because you had a scythe under your jacket last night.”

My gut tightens. “Are you absolutely certain you know what you saw?”

“Don’t patronize me. Everyone knows what a scythe is. Question is, are you just a weirdo who likes to carry a weapon, or are you—”

Her voice falters, eyes burning, but she’s given me what I need.

“Or am I what, Anora?”

Her chest rises and falls quickly, and it’s hard not to be aware of her when she’s this close. I should step away, leave, but this proximity untangles my chest.

“You’ve seen the blade before.”

And I’m betting the carrier was named Chase Lockwood. And if she knows Chase, then that means…

Before we can continue our conversation, Anora’s mom clears her throat. I step away, and we turn to face Jayne in the doorway.

“Lunch is ready.”

Jayne waits at the door until Anora and I leave the room in front of her.

Lunch is awkward. I’m not sure if it’s because Jayne thinks Anora and I were making out or because Anora avoids my eyes from across the table as she eats. I decide not to let her keep me from enjoying free food.

“This meal is delicious, Ms. Silby.”

She smiles, the crow’s-feet on either side of her eyes deepening. “Thank you, Shy. Cooking is a bit of a passion of mine.”

“My mom loves cooking too,” I say. “Nothing frozen ever comes into our house.”

“We’ll have to have your mother and father over for dinner sometime.”

I can’t imagine my father sitting down to dinner with me, much less arriving at Anora’s to drink wine and chat with Jayne. Still I say, “They would love that.” I look at Anora. “Do you cook?”

She seems surprised by my question. “With Mom,” she says.

“Anora’s being modest. She’s a great cook but an even better baker.”

“You’ve been holding out on me,” I accuse playfully. “I demand cookies!”

“Mom’s exaggerating. I’m not that great.”

“I am not!” Jayne laughs. “She likes to bake at night. In New York, she had the whole house smelling like cake at midnight.”

Anora goes rigid in her seat at the mention of New York, but Jayne doesn’t seem to realize her error. I catch it, hold it tight, and pin Anora with a pointed stare. Was that why Natalie couldn’t find Anora’s school record in Chicago? Because they were actually from New York? The same state where Chase Lockwood died?

Jayne continues, laughing. “Did I mention she likes to dance too?”

“Dance?” I lift my brow, quirk my lips, watching her. What I’m really asking is: New York?

“Mom’s…misremembering,” she says tightly.

“Nonsense, Anora.” Jayne looks at me. “She dances and sings when she bakes. I used to creep into the living room and listen to her. She has the prettiest voice.”

Anora seems surprised. Her eyes widen just before they fall to her food, her face flushed. There is silence for a moment, and the lull allows a strange, suffocating tension to settle. I take a deep breath, inhaling the thick air.

“Well, you both surpass me. I can’t even cook an egg.”

Jayne laughs while I feel Anora’s anxiety rise like a tide, swelling. For the remainder of lunch, she’s disengaged from conversation and doesn’t touch her food, preferring to keep one hand on a gold chain at her neck while she chews her lip. I wonder what is on the end of that necklace.

“It was great having you over, Shy. I’ll talk to Guiliana about dinner sometime,” Jayne says as we walk to the door.

“I look forward to it, Ms. Silby.”

Anora walks me to my car. She’s quiet, and I can tell by the look on her face she’s still trying to figure me out. She’s smart. All that small talk might have convinced another human I wasn’t after anything, but Anora has seen things. Experienced things. She knows my tactics.

Because someone’s used them before.

“New York?” I finally ask.

“Mom misspoke.”

I raise a brow but don’t press, because I’m worried if I do, she’ll ask me more about the scythe.

“Does your mom know you can see the dead?” I ask.

She sort of laughs, like that’s a ludicrous idea. “No. She just thinks I’m a crazy kid.”

I nod. All their awkward pauses and tension make sense now.

“I don’t know what happened before you got here, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

Then she says something that disarms me. “He said that too.”

“Chase Lockwood?” I ask.

I’m impressed by her reaction—absolutely nothing. Her jaw doesn’t tighten, and her eyes don’t narrow.

“Anora,” Jayne calls from the front door. “Please come in and do these dishes.”

Anora looks relieved at the interruption.

And now I’m even more curious about what happened between her and Chase. I pull the keys to my Jeep out and say, “Put the obsidian in your windowsill.”

Then I climb into my Jeep. As I leave, I glance in my rearview mirror. Anora’s still standing on the sidewalk outside her house, watching me go. I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel tight, fighting the urge to turn around and stay with her until she trusts me, even as I wonder if I’ll ever be able to trust her.

Instead, I put my foot to the gas and speed away.

When I get home, Lily is waiting for me. She sits on the steps, elbows resting on her knees. She’s dressed in jeans and a dark-blue sweatshirt. The hood is pulled up, covering her head.

“Hey,” I say as I get out of my Jeep. “You know Mom’s inside.”

“I didn’t want to bother her,” Lily says, and I know it’s because she’s embarrassed.

I take a seat beside her. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long. Where were you?”

I pause before answering—something I probably shouldn’t do, because it implies guilt. “With Anora.”

Lily looks confused. “I know we promised each other we wouldn’t ask, but I have to, Shy. What are you doing with her?”

“Nothing, Lils. Seriously. I’m just…we’re just friends.” It is hard to use that word after the interaction I’ve just had with her, but what am I supposed to say? I feel better when I’m around her, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t trust me as far as she can throw me, and I’m also sure she killed Chase Lockwood…which, according to what I learned at Council, would make her the Eurydice and add a whole new layer of complication and mistrust.

“I’ve never seen you act like this with a human girl. You’re going out of your way to see her—to look at her. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Yeah, because my chest feels like it will implode if I don’t.

“Please don’t lecture me about this, Lils. I get enough from Nat.”

“I’m not going to tell you the same stuff Natalie will tell you, but whatever you’re doing better be genuine.”

“What do you mean ‘genuine’?”

“I know you and Natalie have been ordered to watch her, so whatever you’re doing should be because you actually like her and not because Elite Cain told you to do it.”

“Lily—”

“It’s not right, Shy,” she says, her voice rising. She pauses, frustrated. “I’m tired of the control the Order has over our lives. Sometimes…I wonder if Thane was right.”

“That’s dangerous thinking, Lils.”

“Is it?”

“We can’t bring people back to life,” I say evenly.

“Do we know that for certain? Or do we believe that because the Order told us?”

She’s being ridiculous. We know that because we’ve seen it. Souls that are resurrected are torn from Spirit and forced into a body that fractures the soul. That fracture always manifests itself in the form of anger and beastly behaviors.

“Thane’s mother was beyond our reach, Lily. Even if we were to retrieve her soul, it would have been up to her body to heal. She was too damaged.”

“But people are resurrected all the time.”

“And they’re not the same. You know this. Why question it?” I narrow my eyes. “You’re talking to him, aren’t you?”

“Just because you aren’t friends with Thane anymore doesn’t mean I can’t be.”

Thane is one of the few death-speakers who actually know about the Valryn. Growing up in the same town with him, it was probably inevitable that he’d learn about us eventually, but he caught Lily in her hybrid form, and after swearing him to secrecy, we told him about us and the Order. Of course, that was before his mom died, before he asked us to help bring her back.

“I’ve never told you not to be his friend, but you shouldn’t encourage his thinking. Don’t give him hope where there is none.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anora.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You keep giving her attention, and she’s going to fall for you hard, and what kind of person are you going to be? The shadow knight who breaks her heart or the one that breaks the rules?”

With that, she shifts and flies away, a splash of black against a graying sky.