Keeper(35)

Beside me, Ty shifted in his seat. His features were tight, his eyes cloudy as they darted back and forth between me and Maggie, who was furiously scribbling notes on a napkin.

I counted cars as they passed, trying to distract myself. My fingers were still busy with the string. I wound it tightly around one finger, cutting off the circulation. The tip of my pinkie turned dark red, then purple. I released the tension in the thread, sighing as blood pumped back into my finger—that tiny sense of control filling the aching parts of me.

“Lainey?”

I tore my eyes from the window. Ty was staring at me. “Yes?”

“When my dad was . . .” He broke off for a moment and exhaled. “The night I lost my dad was the worst night of my life. Aside from the grief, the one thing I remember most clearly is how alone I felt.” As he spoke, his hands tightened against the empty coffee mug he held.

“What happened to him?” I didn’t have any right to ask, nor was it polite, but I was too frazzled to consider decorum.

“He was killed,” Ty answered, staring at his hands as he spoke. “Because he refused to bend to someone else’s will.”

The tangible sadness of his words made my chest ache. I wanted to ask more questions, but the pained look on his face kept my mouth shut.

“After it happened,” he continued, “I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I couldn’t understand why. I had so many questions, but no one seemed to know the answers. I just felt so . . . so lost. I was lost—sometimes it still feels that way.” He glanced over at me, his eyes blazing. “I know it’s not the same thing. I can’t possibly understand what’s going through your head right now, but I just want you to know that . . . that you’re not alone, okay?”

I bit down on my lip again. I was lost. The words played over and over in my head, until Ty’s voice faded away and my own voice whispered back at me. I am lost. The words settled on my shoulders like a ton of bricks, as if at any moment, they would crush me.

Ty gave me a small smile, and as he turned his attention back to Maggie, he reached over and entwined my fingers with his, giving my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

My mind was overwhelmed with fear and confusion, but as I held his hand, a small part of my brain made a mental note to later marvel at the strange boy sitting next to me—the mysterious one who was fierce and aloof one second, and incredibly kind and gentle the next.

“Okay!” Maggie said triumphantly, looking up. “I think I might be on to something.” She indicated the scribbled napkins. “I wrote down everything that’s happened so far. I thought there might be a pattern or something that could give us some clue about what we’re dealing with.”

A flicker of hope danced through me. “Is there? A pattern?”

“Not at all,” Maggie said, with a sigh.

My stomach turned, and I gulped down a mouthful of coffee to keep from gagging.

“Everything just seems kind of random, to be honest,” she continued. “But I do think I know what we should do next.”

“What?”

Maggie bit her lip. “Just go with me on this one, okay? I really think we should go see Serena.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Maggie, I already told you. I don’t think she can help us.”

“How do you know? She’s the closest thing we’re gonna get to an expert on this sort of thing. She’s reads tarot cards and performs cleansing rituals on your house—which makes a whole lot more sense now, come to think of it.” Maggie waved her hands to punctuate her words. “She gave you a tiger’s eye for protection on your twelfth birthday.”

“Exactly. She’s a complete nut job.”

Maggie leaned forward. “But what if she’s not? What if she’s just the one other person in this town who sees what others don’t?” She shoved the napkins toward me. “It’s the only lead we have, Styles. There’s nothing else to go on. Besides, after tonight . . . I think it’s obvious we’re in over our heads. We need help.”

I stared at the messy scrawl on the napkins in front of me. “She is good with weird.”

I let out a deep breath. Maggie was smirking, knowing she’d already won. I looked at Ty, who said nothing but gave my hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Fine. But I’m gonna need more coffee.”



The sidewalk was full of antique buyers and the usual Saturday morning brunch crowd. The crisp air was blowing through the golden amber leaves of the trees, and the street had recently been decorated for the upcoming Harvest Festival. Lampposts were festooned with orange twinkle lights, and the shop windows were full of hay bales and pumpkins.

Next to me, a smiling scarecrow waved jauntily from his perch atop a parking meter. I adored this time of year, but right now the only thing I could focus on was moving my feet down the sidewalk.

This is ridiculous. Such a stupid idea! one side of my mind yelled, while the other fired back, It’s not! After everything you’ve seen, can you really say that?

I maneuvered through the crowd, Ty and Maggie in step beside me, and tried to ignore the bickering in my mind.

The storefronts in this area of Main Street were all much the same: large windows and brightly colored doors. I kept an eye on the numbers as we passed, but more to keep my mind busy than for direction. I could find Serena’s shop blindfolded.