Time ticks by and the only things that move are the rain and Poe shifting around in front of me. The cat starts shying away from my touch, so I stop trying, keeping my hands shoved in my pockets to stay warm, and wishing either something would happen or the sun would rise so I could go to bed. I check my watch again. 2:43.
Poe stirs, stretches, and wanders off.
Something behind me rustles, and I assume it’s just the cat chasing a waterlogged mouse. Then I hear voices, and my breath catches.
I turn, very, very slowly, and sink even deeper to the forest floor. I try to blend in with the undergrowth that I’m now thanking rather than cursing for making this entire stay uncomfortable as hell.
I can’t see anything, not in the darkness. And through the rain, I can’t make out distinct voices. Just words. I try to edge closer, every inch of my skin on fire with adrenaline. Someone’s definitely out there, someone trying to remain hidden. I sneak closer, down an all fours, my stomach grazing the ground as I crawl. Then I stop, because I can hear them now, two voices. One of them, I’m sure, is the blond guy, but the other? Wherever she is, I hope Lilith’s getting a better view than I.
“…can’t back out now,” the man’s voice hisses. I can just imagine him, the shadow of him, standing only a few feet away. “You know what’s at stake. The Dream Trade must stop.”
The response is whispered, a mumble I can barely make out.
“Had enough?” the man says. “Too much blood on your hands?”
Another pause, and it sounds like someone’s crying their words out. If I could get closer…
“No,” the man says. “The next phase will happen, with or without your help.”
Another sob.
“If you fail — ” and then he pauses. I hear a snap as something moves closer to me. My blood is pounding louder than the rain, and the only thing I can think is shit shit shit. Then there’s a hiss, and the man curses as Poe leaps from the underbrush.
“Damn cat,” he says. Another pause. “Leave,” he finally says. “And do your part.”
I don’t move. I don’t know how I can tell, but the guy is gone, vanished like he had before. I don’t dare move an inch in case he’s hovering somewhere nearby. I stay there, crouched in the mud, waiting for him to put a knife in my back or for the other person to stumble across me. Nothing happens. Time ticks by, and every inch of me aches from stillness. The rain doesn’t stop. Lilith doesn’t appear by my side. There’s nothing but rain and silence.
I don’t leave, though. I don’t move. Not if something is about to happen, not if there’s a threat.
Only when the first streak of light brightens the rain clouds do I move away from my spot. Only when I’m positive Mel hasn’t been taken, and that the people I care about are safe. I strip off my raincoat and scurry back to my trailer, stepping gently inside so none of the other bunks register the shift of weight. I dry off and curl up under the covers, hoping I’ll get enough sleep to last the rest of the day.
I close my eyes and picture only cold and darkness and conspirators bathed in shadows, but at least my friends are safe. At least we’re safe.
CHAPTER TEN: NOTHING FAILS
I don’t think my eyes have been closed for ten minutes when someone’s knocking at my door. There’s bile in my throat and a cold that won’t get out of my limbs, but I push myself out of bed and open the door. No fucking way keeps repeating in my head. Everyone’s safe. They have to be safe. But somehow I know that’s not the case.
It’s Lilith. Not Kingston, coming to say that someone else has bit the dust. I highly doubt the girl has that sort of mental capacity. I could kiss her in relief.
She ducks under my arm and comes into the room, Poe gripped tight in her hands. Her clothes are dry and clean, but there’s a smear of mud across her pale forehead and her eyes are just as shadowed as Melody’s were yesterday.
“Bad man,” she says the moment she sits on my bed. “Bad man, bad man’s here. Bad man wants us.”
I look out the door once more and make sure there isn’t a commotion. No one is screaming about another death, so I close it and look at the kid shaking back and forth on my bed. She looks like a doll. One that walks around your house at night stealing knives and hiding your puppy in the freezer.
“The bad man,” I say. “Yes, you saw him last night. Who was with him?”
“Bad man,” she says. “Bad man chasing, bad man finding.” She looks up at me. “You can’t protect them.” Her voice has turned eerily sober once more. “And they can’t hide from him. She will die. And he will die. We will all die if the Summer Court finds us.”
“Who?” I ask. “Kingston? Mel?”
But she’s back in la-la-land, singing Kingston’s name under her breath. I sigh. The only other person who saw what happened last night is as good as a vegetable. The sigh becomes a yawn, and I’m about to ask her to leave or at least make room on the bed so I can continue my nap, when there’s another knock on my door.
I open it. Kingston. Fuck.
“It’s Melody,” he says before I even say hello. “She’s not waking up.”
We’re out the door and walking toward her trailer in a heartbeat, Lilith at our heels. She’s still singing his name, but Kingston doesn’t seem to notice. I swear the world has slowed down; I can feel every footfall, every beat of my acidic heart pounding out its terrible truth. I failed. I failed. I failed.
“What happened?” I ask. No one’s outside except for the cooks in the pie cart, and the air smells like bacon. “What do you mean she’s not waking up?”
He gives me a look. “I went in to check on her. And she didn’t wake up. What doesn’t click for you?” His words are biting, but they aren’t hitting home. If roles were reversed I’d be just as terse.
Lilith giggles at that. “Kingston’s smart. Lilith’s smart, too.”
“Yes you are,” he says in an offhand way. Then we’re at Melody’s door, and he opens it without knocking.
Her bunk is the same size as mine, with the same furniture setup, except the curtains drawn across the windows give the room the feeling of a crypt. The stale air and stench of sweat don’t help. Kingston walks right up to the window and opens it, letting in light and fresh air. Melody is on her bed, the sheets tangled around her. I move closer and see the sweat dripping down her forehead. Her eyelids look like they’ve been covered in dark stage-makeup. She’s pale — pale as her white sheets — and except for the slightest tremble of her lips, she’s not moving.
Lilith sidles up beside me and stares down at Melody. Poe purrs loudly in her hands.
“Melody’s sick?” she asks, like a child asking why Granny isn’t coming home from the hospital.
“Very,” Kingston says, stepping over to Melody and putting a hand on her forehead. A soft haze seems to flow from his fingertips, but it only lasts a second before he slumps to sitting on the bed as well. He runs his hands through his hair. Zal is once more twined around his arm, its head on the back of Kingston’s hand. The ink is a little smudged, as though even the serpent’s tired of trying to hold itself together.
“Lilith,” he says. “Would you…would you please get Mab?”
“Auntie Mab?” Lilith asks.
“Yes,” he says. He sounds so, so tired. “Tell her there’s something wrong with Melody. Now, please.”
Lilith puts Poe on the ground and nods, then turns and opens the door for her cat. They both slink out into the filtered light.