The Devouring Gray(67)

His lips parted slightly, his eyes swimming with something that was no longer fury, yet was somehow far more frightening.

Which was when the noise rang out, a thump so loud Violet actually jumped, her hands falling away from Isaac’s.

“What’s that?” she hissed. “Did you come with reinforcements?”

But Isaac shook his head, looking just as spooked as she was.

The thumping continued—it was coming from downstairs. Violet started toward the front door. The tension of their conversation still hung between them, but it was lessening now, overtaken by this new potential threat.

“You shouldn’t answer doors on a night like this,” Isaac called after her.

That was quite enough for Violet, who had been told what to do far too many times that evening.

“I opened the window, didn’t I?” she said, darting down the hallway before Isaac could protest further. She worried briefly about Juniper finding them, until she saw that there was no light coming from beneath her mother’s bedroom door. Isaac trailed after her as she padded down the stairs, grumbling about her refusal to listen to him, which Violet found pretty rich coming from someone who’d showed up uninvited at her bedroom window.

The noises were definitely coming from her front door. As Isaac raised his hands, his palms shimmering, Violet unlocked the dead bolts and pulled it open. A bundle of dark curls tumbled into the house and sprawled out on the floor, accompanied by a furious rush of wind and hail. Violet didn’t have a chance to see beyond the darkness before Isaac slammed the door shut.

“Harper!” Violet said, kneeling beside her as Isaac swung the dead bolts back into place. “Are you okay?”

Harper sat up slowly. Her hair was mostly unraveled from a braid, her baggy jeans pockmarked with melting hail. There was a reddish-brown blade clutched in her remaining hand.

“I need help,” she said hoarsely, raising the blade into her lap. Violet felt a slight twinge of unease at the way she cradled the sword, like she was rocking a baby.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s Nora,” said Harper. “I can’t find her, and Brett says she went out in the storm—said another kid dared her to go to the town hall. She’s only six, she doesn’t understand”—she coughed, spat out a piece of hair—“how dangerous…You have to help me find her.”

And Violet saw, beneath the sweater, beneath the sword, that Harper was shaking.

“Of course I will,” she said without thinking, because there was nothing to think about. Nora was Harper’s sister. That was a loss Violet would never wish on anyone else.

“Thank you,” said Harper, her dark eyes glowing. “I knew you’d help me.”

Then she swiveled around, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Why is Isaac Sullivan in your house?” she said.

“Because Justin thinks I need a bodyguard,” Violet said, giving Isaac, who was hovering behind them, a sarcastic little wave. “Doesn’t he know that if I needed to be protected, I’d ask someone myself?”

“You’re way too stubborn for that,” Harper rasped. Behind her, Isaac chuckled.

“I’m going to ignore that,” Violet grumbled. “Okay, so if we’re going to go out in this weather, we probably need raincoats.”

“Actually—” said Isaac. Violet glanced up at him.

“Let me guess,” she said, trying not to think about their hands intertwined. She wasn’t sure what that moment had been—but it was done now. “You’re going to tell me I can’t go outside? Because you’re starting to make me wish I’d pushed you off the roof instead of letting you in.”

“Curb your violent impulses for a second and think,” said Isaac. “Neither of you should be outside right now. Harper’s deadweight, and you’re worse. I can look for Nora.”

“She’s my sister,” said Harper, rising to her feet. Violet stood up with her, surprised by her volume. “And I’m not deadweight.”

“No, she’s definitely not,” said Violet, eyeing the sword Harper was now brandishing in Isaac’s general direction. “And I’m not letting my friend out on the equinox without me. Come with us if you want, but we’re going either way.”

Isaac groaned and pressed his palm to his forehead.

“Apparently running straight to our probable deaths is contagious,” he mumbled into his wrist. “But if you must go, it makes more sense to drive than walk.”

“Drive?” said Violet, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest. “What about visibility?”

“There’ll be no other cars on the roads, and the town hall’s a few miles away,” said Isaac. “It’ll be easy. And much safer than walking.”

“Okay,” said Violet. “So you drive.”

“I can’t, actually,” said Isaac, dipping his head.

“Harper?”

“I don’t have a permit yet,” said Harper flatly.

Violet stared at Juniper’s car keys, dangling from the coat-rack beside the doorway like a broken promise. Isaac and Harper were looking at her expectantly now, and as much as she wanted to bolt up to her room and go fetal beneath her covers, Violet knew she couldn’t run from this anymore.