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

He’s excited.

There’s an animation to his expression that’s never been there before. His time has come. My jaw clenches as I finally start the car. I’m not ready for this, I’m not ready for this. The engine whines into the stillness, but I don’t move. Seconds pass and I think of another night, another drunken mistake. “You have to drive,” I finally mutter.

The Emotion—it’s not quite what he is, but I don’t know what else to call him—grins. As I climb back out and circle the car, he slides behind the wheel. Before my door has even shut completely, Revenge slams onto the gas. The tires squeal. He can’t hold back a loud whoop.

Resentment appears in the backseat, a bald Emotion who talks almost as much as Revenge. Yet now he just touches my shoulder, sending his essence burning through me, and vanishes. They know, they all know, that something is happening.

I’m clenching my fists so hard it hurts. Nails. I haven’t clipped my nails lately. “It’s too hot,” I say through my teeth. As a response, Revenge leans over me to hit the window button. His familiar scent teases my senses: chocolate. I adore-despise it. “Get off me.”

Those green eyes gleam in response. “It could all be over tonight,” he murmurs, leaning closer than he ever has before. The car swerves, nearly hitting a tree. It doesn’t even faze him; he just corrects us. “I’ll help you, Alex.”

“I don’t need your help,” I hiss. The road lines keep flying past, white blurs, and it’s so disorienting.

“Come on. Who are you talking to?”

“I thought I was talking to my best friend. But I keep forgetting what you are.” I laugh bitterly. “Ironic, right? Forgetting something like that?”

At this, Revenge’s expression darkens and he leans away. Which is exactly what I wanted: him to feel as unsettled as me. Still smiling tightly, I focus on the signs, knowing that the turn is coming up. The house we’re looking for is two towns over from Franklin, an hour away if we drive fast. And we are. So fast that it almost feels like I’m leaving everything behind. Almost.

That’s what I like about Revenge most, I think. He doesn’t feel the need to slow down; he thrives on the speed just as much as I do. With the taste of rum in my mouth and the sting of remembrance in my heart, I set my sights on the man who killed my family.

I lose track of how much time passes. The glowing numbers on the dashboard don’t exist; there’s just what’s coming. I can’t stop myself from picturing the moment, the instant Nate Foster sees me.

“What was he like?” I ask. My voice is quieter now. Like that hushed moment just before everything implodes.

The trees continue to rush past as we drive down the mountain. A line deepens between his eyebrows as Revenge considers. Again, uncharacteristic. Revenge is impulsive and wild.

“Tired,” he decides. “He looked tired.” I don’t say anything to this, and I feel him watching me. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

I’m thinking that I can’t hear the whispers of the stars anymore, but Revenge wouldn’t understand that. Instead I answer, “The day we met.”

He grins again. His grip is relaxed on the steering wheel. “You were so chubby back then. I’m glad you turned out nice.”

How can he sound normal? Apprehension materializes and reaches for me. I resist the urge to recoil. He pokes my shoulder rather than resting his hand on it, like the others do. He’s one of the odder Emotions, with tangled hair and clothes that are baggy from him tugging at them so much. He’s nearly identical to Worry, as if they were born as twins. Creatures from the other plane aren’t born, though, and Apprehension smells worse.

Revenge notices our guest, but he wisely chooses not to comment. As always, I pretend not to see him. I do this with all the Emotions, even though they must know about my Sight. It’s an instinct born from habit and a deeply rooted hatred.

Hatred for all of them—except him.

Apprehension disappears. I hardly notice; I’m remembering that day for real now. I was twelve. There was a newspaper on the coffee table, and the headline caught my eye. Saul must have forgotten to hide it. Drunk Driver Kills Family. I was young, but even then I was capable of darkness. The sight of those words caused it to spread through my chest.

That’s when Revenge came into my life.

“You’re small,” he said to me that afternoon. He was dressed in a simple long-sleeved shirt and jeans—a tame choice for him, I’d learn—yet I still knew he wasn’t like me. By then I’d learned how to discern them from humans.

I glanced at my aunt, who was busy in the kitchen. Dishes clattered in the sink. “Who are you?” I asked, turning back to the stranger in our living room.

Revenge smiled, and the breath caught in my throat even then. “I’m your new best friend.”

“You’re one of them,” I said, frowning.

He shrugged. “So? You’re a fat little human. You don’t hear me complaining. That’s what friendship is, right?”

I thought about this. “Why would I be friends with you?”

“Because I’ll be here when you need me, and I’ll help you get what you want.”

“And what do I want?” I asked suspiciously.

Revenge wasn’t smiling anymore. He straightened, looking down at me with an intense expression. “That’s the question, isn’t it, Alexandra Tate? What do you want?”