The Devouring Gray(88)

She stepped away from him, shuddering, and wiped her fingers off on her jeans.

To her surprise, far more than three figures were now dealing with the Church members. They were older and better trained, which meant only one thing: The sheriff had arrived.

Violet dragged Juniper across the barrier, bones crunching beneath her boots with every step. Then she knelt down beside her, smoothing a lock of frizzy hair away from Juniper’s slack-jawed face.

“Wake up,” she said softly. “Come on, Mom. It’s over.”

A figure knelt down beside her, a blond, angular slab of marble. “Is she all right?” asked Augusta Hawthorne, her words raw with panic.

Violet recoiled. “Don’t try anything.”

Augusta held up her gloved hands. “I won’t.”

Violet was surprised by how the fear in the sheriff’s voice matched the fear that pulsed through her as she stared at Juniper’s limp form. Behind her, figures in brown robes were being handcuffed and led to squad cars, while other officers squatted beside the circle of bones, putting fragments into plastic evidence bags.

“Violet?”

She turned at the sound of her name. Justin and Isaac trotted out of the fray, Harper trailing behind them. And if her eyes stung a little at the sound of Justin’s familiar voice, well, it was dark, and no one noticed, so it didn’t count.

“Your face,” said Isaac softly. “There’s blood….”

“I’m fine,” said Violet. “Juniper’s the one who needs help.”

“She should see a doctor,” Augusta said. “She could be concussed. Or drugged. There’s a clinic at the station.”

“Only if I get to stay with her the whole time,” said Violet firmly. “And only if those gloves stay on.”

Augusta hesitated, her face still creased with concern. “You remember.”

Violet smiled. “Yeah. I do. And I will find some way to set an undead army on you if you lay a finger on either of us again.”

Augusta raised an eyebrow at the threat, but it must’ve worked, because she backed away.

As Juniper was lifted up onto a stretcher, Violet realized that Justin, Harper, and Isaac were flanking her.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she muttered. Her gaze darted from Justin’s dirt-streaked hair to the bloody paperback sticking out of Isaac’s pocket to the sword gleaming in Harper’s hand.

“Do what?” said Justin.

“Come on. You know what.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Violet raised her arms to the sky in protest, Rosie’s bracelet jangling on her wrist.

“Save me.” It was a real struggle to spit the words out, because she really meant them. “But you did. So thank you.”

Harper ducked her head and swung her sword up onto her shoulder. The corners of Isaac’s mouth twitched as he wiped a smudge of dirt off his nose.

“I’d give that a four out of ten,” he drawled.

“I’ll be sure to consider your judgment the next time I’m trapped in an alternate-dimension prison with a monster that has possessed me.”

His eyes crinkled with mirth, and suddenly it was a little harder for Violet to stand straight.

“Are you going to be okay?” said Justin.

“I think so,” Violet said. “I figured out my ritual.”

Justin let his smile loose. His white teeth glowed like a beacon against the night.

She didn’t know how he could still look so happy, but she was grateful for it. She was grateful for all of them. And she could tell they knew it. She could see it on their faces. There was a sense of mutual relief humming among all four of them. They were alive, and they were safe.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked Harper as they headed toward the edge of the clearing. The trees around them were bathed in red and blue light from the sirens flashing at the edge of the forest.

“My father,” said Harper hesitantly. “Violet…there are some things you should know. Now that your memories are back.” The beam of a police flashlight caught Harper’s neck, illuminating the bruises on her throat. Bruises that were shaped a lot like fingers.

Violet remembered, with a rush, that Harper had been wearing one of those robes, too. “What happened?”

Harper cast a careful glance at Augusta Hawthorne. “I’ll explain later.”

Her voice sounded different. Smoother. Stronger.

Violet had questions for all of them, but right now, her priority was getting to the squad car that held her mother. She had earned herself a second chance with Juniper, and she would not waste it. It was time she started learning to move on.





The Four Paths sheriff’s station was cold and sterile. Justin suspected Augusta Hawthorne had tried as hard as possible to provide an alternative to the sea of chestnut oaks outside. He’d spent the past hour since Violet and her mother had arrived at the clinic in the waiting area, staring at the white tiles and fluorescent lights.

When they’d first come in, the clinic staff insisted on treating Violet for weeks’ worth of minor injuries. Justin had watched the nurse practitioner bustle her away, her latex-coated hand wrapped firmly around Violet’s upper arm like she was a child prone to running off.

Violet looked back at him when they got her to the doorway, blood and grime smeared across her face, and shot him a tiny, wicked grin. They were actually friends now. He could tell that was new to her.