The Devouring Gray(60)

“Oh, absolutely,” said Justin, shaking his thoughts away. “And probably banned for life.”

They left through the back door, and as they stepped out into the parking lot, the sound of their footsteps muted by a sudden deluge of rain, Isaac spoke again.

“I don’t know why you haven’t given up on me yet,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Justin turned to look at him, at the rain that dripped from Isaac’s dark hair down to the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll give up when you do,” he said.

Isaac’s mouth did something funny at the corners that made Justin wonder if he’d forgotten how to smile.

He and Isaac tried so desperately to prop each other up because it made them feel stronger. Because part of Justin wanted Isaac to lose it so he could calm him down. So he could be needed. And he knew that part of Isaac was glad Justin had failed his ritual so that Isaac himself had someone to protect.

He hated that part of Isaac almost as much as he hated the corresponding part of himself.

Isaac’s shoulder pressed against his for a second, almost leaning, almost not, and then they walked into the parking lot, into the rain, waiting for Augusta’s deputies to find them.



Founders’ Day dawned bright and sunny, yesterday’s rain clouds long gone, but Justin was in no position to appreciate any of that. Instead, he was stuck inside, staring his mother down from across the polished wooden table in the center of her office at the police station.

He’d been dreading this conversation from the moment Augusta found him and Isaac behind the Diner. His mother had been too busy between damage control and Founders’ Day prep to corner him the night before, but Justin wasn’t naive enough to think that this would be a pleasant talk just because she’d slept on it first. Augusta’s anger was worse the longer she let it simmer.

“I’m interested in what you have to say for Isaac this time,” she said. “Every property damage complaint we get, every furious mother, makes me less convinced he should be allowed to run around unchecked.”

Justin hadn’t been lying when he told Violet that his mother’s lack of faith in him had made him begin to doubt her leadership. But the truth was that the erosion of that trust had started years before. What she’d done to Harper had left him perpetually concerned that she would do the same thing to Isaac. She’d been kind to him at first, taking him in, letting him stay in the town hall apartment. But Justin knew it was only to obtain Isaac’s loyalty: People only mattered to Augusta as long as they were useful.

And Isaac was starting to tip the scales between useful and dangerous.

“He’s the only Sullivan left in Four Paths,” Justin said.

“The others will come back,” Augusta said calmly. “Eventually. They always come back.”

“And how long will it take for you to earn their trust, once they do?” said Justin. “Isaac owes you everything. I’m not saying he’s not at fault here. But he’s never hurt an innocent, and he never will.”

“The Burnham boys would beg to disagree.”

“They goaded him into it,” said Justin. “The things they said to him, to me—”

“Did not warrant what Isaac put them through.”

“Mother,” said Justin. “They’re fine.”

Theo and Pete were actually a lot better than fine. They were as good as healed after a few bandages at the clinic. On his way to the sheriff’s station, Justin had seen them recounting their version of events to every girl they could find. They’d even tried it on Violet, and immediately looked so remorseful, Justin had to smile.

But Isaac had still hurt them. And that mattered.

“They’re considering pressing charges,” Augusta said, leaning across the table. “Vandalism, aggravated assault.”

“That’s ridiculous! It was provoked.”

Augusta spread her fingers across the desk.

“You’re not seeing the bigger picture here,” she said. “The town is upset with us. They need a scapegoat. And Isaac is an easy target.”

Justin bit back the urge to tell her that he’d noticed just how upset the town was—no need to make her angry.

“So convince the Burnhams not to press charges,” he said, trying to stay calm. “You’ve protected people before. I’ve seen it.”

“And what will I do the next time?”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You said that after the grocery store incident.”

Justin knew he had to play this like a deal—a deal she’d be foolish not to take. With Augusta Hawthorne, everything was about bargaining.

“There won’t be a next time,” he repeated. “Because if this ever happens again, you can use your power on him.”

It took a lot to surprise his mother, but Justin had done it. He could see it wash over her like a brisk breeze, her body stiffening, then relaxing as the idea sank in.

“Fine,” she said at last. “Tell him he can participate in the Founders’ Day Pageant today, but he’s staying in tonight. An unstable patrolman out on the night of the equinox could be deadly.”

“But we’re already stretched thin!” Justin leaned forward. “It’s not safe.”