The Devouring Gray(40)

Harper wanted him to protest. She was ready to argue. She would win—hell, she’d already won.

But instead, Justin’s face slackened. His expression was devoid of false guilt now. It was devoid of everything. “You’re right,” he said numbly. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Harper swallowed her disappointment, sliding a hand down the dog’s back. For a second something fluttered beneath her fingertips, a strange tingling that shot from her hand into the back of her skull. But the sensation was gone before she could take another breath. “You’re not going to tell me to change Violet’s mind?”

“What’s the point?” said Justin, shaking his head. “You would never do it. But, Harper, if you’re going to help her, you can’t let the sheriff know what you’re doing. We were keeping it a secret.”

This, Harper hadn’t been expecting.

Rebellion didn’t come naturally to Justin and May. Back when they’d all been friends, Augusta had run her children’s lives with the ferocity of a coach, the strictness of a headmistress, and the tyranny of a dictator.

For them to defy her…that took a spine Harper hadn’t believed either Hawthorne child possessed.

“If your mother isn’t letting you help Violet, why do you want to?”

This time, Harper knew in her gut that Justin was telling the truth. “Because I think our town’s future depends on it,” he said. “And because I’m tired of listening to my mother when she tells me to do things that will only lead to people getting hurt. It’s why I stopped talking to you, you know—because of her.”

And with that, Justin walked away, his wiry frame disappearing into the sinking sun.

Harper curled her fingers around the stone dog’s ear, a rush of frustration coursing through her.

She’d had the conversation with him she’d daydreamed about for years. Told Justin what he’d done to her. And yet, somehow, he’d managed to make her feel guilty now that it was over.

They had been children when he’d left her all alone. Maybe that really had been Augusta Hawthorne’s fault.

But it had still hurt her. And surely, he had still known that it would hurt her.

Besides, Harper had done what her father asked. She had befriended Violet Saunders.

It was time to reap her reward.



The first few entries in Stephen Saunders’s journal were boring. Violet was disappointed by her uncle’s annoying teenage thoughts, which ranged from all the hot girls at school who would totally notice him after he did his ritual to talking about music and TV shows that she had never heard of and didn’t care about. The one interesting part was whenever he talked about the piano.

But as his birthday approached, things became a bit more compelling.

April 4, 1984

Tonight Dad gave us this lecture at dinner about Saunders family responsibility. Grandma fell asleep at the table, and Daria left to “go check on the casserole” and didn’t come back, but of course I had to stay. At the end of it, he fixed Juniper and me with this big stare.

Agatha made this cawing noise from her stand behind the table and flapped her wings. I swear, she was looking straight at me. Companions are creepy like that, like they know what their owners are thinking.

“Remember,” Dad said. “The safety of Four Paths rests in your hands.”

June says that Dad just lectures us a lot because he’s mad that his brother became mayor, not him, but telling Dad that seems like a good way to get lectured until I die of boredom, so I won’t.

My sisters did their rituals years ago. Daria sees people’s deaths when she touches them. She won’t tell anyone, though, so I don’t really see how it actually helps. I mean, it’s not like anybody has died since she got her power, so we don’t even know if she’s right. But sometimes she gets this look. Like she wants to throw up. She’s never really had friends, but now she avoids everyone, even us.

I’m not sure if I would want to know what she knows.

No one will tell me what June can do. But I eavesdropped on Dad and Uncle Hiram talking about her once, going on about how “testing her powers” was going to be hard.

I guess she’s something else. Something special. Figures—she’s always been Dad’s favorite.

Violet flipped to the next page. The entries got less carefree the closer Stephen came to his birthday. His original bravado was starting to falter, and in its place was more information about the town, gossip about the other families, and hints about his upcoming ritual.

“Do you think he’ll talk about his ritual?” said Isaac.

Violet frowned at Stephen’s splotchy handwriting. “I hope so.”

April 9, 1984

I turn sixteen in two days.

Daria won’t even look at me, but June is worse—she keeps trying to hang out. This is the most I’ve seen her since she started spending all her time with Augusta Hawthorne. Augusta’s bod is bodacious, but she’s scary. Not even the biggest guys at school will talk to her.

“Okay, that’s gross,” said Isaac. “She’s the sheriff. Also Justin’s mom.”

Violet’s nose wrinkled with abject disgust. “I’m pretty sure I could live the rest of my life without ever seeing or hearing the word bod again.”