The Devouring Gray(76)

May insisted they both sit on the floor. Violet had always considered herself the sort of person who didn’t follow others without asking questions first, but she was too tired to protest. The strangeness she had felt all day had intensified the moment she’d seen May; when she blinked, she swore she saw tendrils of something moving behind her eyes, almost like unfurling branches.

The way they were sitting, the image of May’s fingers effortlessly shuffling the Deck of Omens, seemed oddly familiar. She wondered, dully, if they had done this before, but she surely would’ve remembered that.

There was some kind of optical illusion happening with the cards. Violet knew May was just cleverly shuffling them, but she could’ve sworn the deck was getting smaller.

That the slim bits of wood were disappearing, one by one.

When there were only a few cards left—where had the rest gone?—May raised her eyes to Violet’s.

“We’re supposed to hold hands now,” said May, the edge of her lip curling. “Weird, I know. But it’s an old superstition.”

Again, Violet had the sense that they had done this before. “I’m not sure—”

But May’s hands were already wrapped around hers. Her palms were cold and clammy, her fingers surprisingly strong, and as Violet struggled against her grip, something cracked open in the back of her brain.

It was as if roots were burrowing into her skull, small, deliberate tendrils that changed everything they touched, making each memory brighter and clearer. Like restoring the colors in a faded landscape painting. Violet gasped from the force of it, the truth unfurling, May’s mind snapping every tether that had been placed on hers. She jerked back involuntarily, breaking away from May’s grasp, as the events of the past few weeks rushed back into her mind.

For a moment, it was all she could do to stare at the girl across from her, shuddering. But soon her racing thoughts crystallized into a harsh, furious truth.

“Your mother,” she hissed, the words echoing through the music room.

May nodded, her pale face dead serious. “So you can remember?”

“Yes.”

“You’re angry.”

“Of course I’m angry. What the hell did you expect?”

This was why the Hawthornes had lied to their mother. Why the town seemed so transfixed by them—because they never knew when their golden family had messed up.

No wonder Juniper couldn’t remember anything about Four Paths. No wonder Harper’s history with the Hawthornes was so muddled.

It was Augusta. It was all Augusta.

How many others had suffered the way she had? How much had the town forgotten?

“So she’s been taking people’s memories away,” Violet said, her voice pulsating with fury. “But you can give them back. And you haven’t.”

The shadows pooling in the hollow of May’s throat deepened as she ducked her head. “I only did my ritual six months ago,” she said softly. “I wasn’t even sure this would work. You’re the first one I’ve ever tried this on.”

“Well, now you know it does work,” said Violet. “So you should just—”

“No!” It was the loudest Violet had ever heard May speak. Her entire body radiated panic. Her eyes were wide, one hand extended toward Violet, imploring, pleading. “I can’t. And if you tell anyone what I did, I’ll deny it.”

“Why?” Violet said softly. She was still angry, but May Hawthorne, despite her fear, despite everything, had just saved her from forgetting. And Violet didn’t want to spook her now.

May gulped. “My mother will be furious if she finds out I’ve helped you. She’d never forgive me.”

“Then why did you help me?”

Violet waited impatiently as May fidgeted, her eyes flicking back and forth. The girl raised a hand to her head, letting a ray of late afternoon sunlight dance across her skin. Her small gold earring was a tiny leaf.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. Violet heard the truth in her voice as surely as she saw it on her face. “It just wasn’t right. What Mom did to you.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, but May rose to her feet before Violet could be sure she hadn’t imagined them. May cleared her throat.

“I should go,” she said, clutching the Deck of Omens to her chest. “I can’t stop you, but please. Don’t tell anyone.”

And then she was hurrying toward the door, her sandals clicking softly against the wooden floorboards.

Violet scrambled to her feet. “Wait!”

She was certain May wasn’t going to listen. But she did, coming to a halt a hairbreadth before the exit.

Violet wasn’t sure if she was angry with May or not. If there even was a right thing to say.

She settled for a hoarse “Thank you.”

May’s head inclined swiftly into a birdlike nod. The front door of the Saunders manor slammed shut a few moments later, leaving Violet standing, shell-shocked, in the golden remnants of the afternoon sunlight.

She wasn’t sure what to do next. She wanted to call Justin and Isaac and yell at them for lying to her. But May had been so scared.

She didn’t want to betray her trust. But she needed answers. Which meant she’d just have to find them herself.

There had to be something she had missed, about the blackouts, about her ritual.