Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(10)

In the distance, a flock of geese honk as they cross the sky. Winter really is behind us, despite the chill in the air.

Uncle Saul steps closer. “Don’t stay out here too long, okay?” He kisses my temple. His lips are dry. “Oh, and you get to clean the attic. As a consequence for taking my rum. We’ll give you a pass on school. This time.” With that, he leaves.

He doesn’t look back. But I do. I watch him return to the apartment, return to Missy, and feel the darkness rise inside me again. The rocket isn’t here. It’s been years since that summer. Dad couldn’t find it. What makes me think I can?

I can find anything that’s been hidden … but I can’t find what’s been lost.

The sun is nearly gone now. The moon is a faded crescent, struggling to emerge. There’s the sound of that damn clock again, unstoppable and unapologetic. Dong. Dong. Dong.

Time to go.





FOUR


The car vents breathe into the stillness. I sit in the driver’s seat, tapping my finger against the steering wheel. I can’t seem to get warm no matter how high the heat is set. My body is ice, and my mind is a frozen lump that can’t let go of the sound of that voice I heard earlier today: Alexandra.

“Am I crazy?” I whisper, mostly to the stars.

Revenge turns toward me, the leather creaking beneath him. “Probably not. If you’re crazy, what does that make me?” He winks.

It’s impossible not to notice his outfit. Revenge has been alive for a long time, and sometimes he gets nostalgic. Today, it seems, he misses the Civil War era. The uniform of a Union soldier gleams in the glow from the radio. His hair looks gelled. Did he dress up for this?

I smile faintly and adjust the vents again. “You’re a raving lunatic, Revenge.”

“True. You still like me though.”

He doesn’t wait to see what I’ll say. After all, Revenge is confident in his place and where he stands. We both focus on the house. Nate Foster isn’t home, but his wife is. We watch her through the dining room window again. She’s in the kitchen, in front of the sink. A curtain of brown hair falls over her shoulder as she leans over and puts a plate into the dishwasher. Jennifer Foster looks … sad. As if she’s lost something in all of this, too.

My smile dies. Something in my chest hardens, and an Emotion shimmers behind me, touching me with tender fingertips. I reach for the door handle, and Revenge instantly begins to fade so he can reappear beside me.

“No. Stay here,” I say. I don’t know why. All I know is that I want to go up to that house without him.

Now a frown tugs down the corners of his generous mouth. “Alex—”

“Please.”

Something in my voice must be different, because Revenge studies me for a moment, then nods. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he nods.

I leave the warmth of the car, slamming the door behind me. The road sparkles with frost and wind whistles through the trees. I cup my elbows and slink through the shadows. That wide window watches me come closer, closer, as if it can see all the pain I try so hard to keep locked inside. I stop inches away from the glass, off to the side so Jennifer can’t spot me. My heart pounds. I want to touch the pane, to prove that I’m capable of doing more than waiting and thinking and hurting.

A sound rips through the quivering hush. It takes me a moment to realize what it is.

Sobs.

Disregarding caution completely, I stand on tiptoe to peer in. Jennifer is right where she was before. In this moment, though, her hands grip the edge of the counter as if it’s all that’s keeping her up. Her head is bowed. Her shoulders shake.

I ease back and press against the house, fixing my gaze on a tree a few yards away. There’s a new sensation spreading through the center of my chest now, a tightness, like there’s a hand reaching through the skin and bone and muscle and trying to crush my heart.

Compassion.

The Emotion herself must have arrived without my noticing, and if Jennifer Foster weren’t within hearing range, I would tell this creature how much I loathe her. Her expression is pained as she brushes a strand of hair out of my face. She’s a dark-skinned Emotion with disquieting eyes.

Twisting away, I focus on Jennifer again. Compassion steps back and slowly diminishes. Jennifer isn’t crying anymore. I watch her take a breath and straighten her shoulders. I can’t help but think that she wasn’t in the car the night Nate Foster shattered my family. She didn’t make the mistake. He did.

Seconds later, something else moves out of the corner of my eye. I jump, facing the threat. The instant my eyes meet his, though, I forget to be alarmed and just stare.

“You,” I whisper after a long, long pause. Every thought about Jennifer Foster flaps away into the night until there’s only him.

The Emotion stands there, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hi, Alexandra.”

For a few seconds neither of us speaks. I keep staring, and he just waits patiently. “Who are you?” I finally demand, careful to keep my voice low. But a part of me knows exactly who he is—has known since the first moment I saw him across the clearing. And if I’m really honest with myself, he’s part of the reason I came back tonight.

I’m not feeling particularly honest right now, though.

A lock of dark hair falls into his eyes. Where Revenge would grin or wink or offer some brash statement, this Emotion just smiles. His skin is pale in the moonlight. “I’m Forgiveness,” he says.