Wilder Girls(61)

I grab for Carson’s sleeve, but she’s already moved, stepping carefully across the wet boards to take Welch’s hand. My stomach drops as Welch pulls a knife out from her jacket pocket, the blade fire-bright and thirsty.

Julia yells, but it’s too late. Welch has her grip tight around Carson’s wrist, and she leans in. “It’s okay, Carson,” she says. “I just want to end it my way. The only thing you have to do is slide it home.”

I look to Julia. She nods. I draw the pistol from my waistband and hold it by my side. We can’t lose Welch. She knows where they’ve taken Byatt, and if she goes, the answers go with her. And even with all the lies she’s told me, all the things I think she’s done, everyone knows the whole place will fall to pieces without her. We need her. I need her.

“You can help me,” Welch is saying. She presses the knife handle to Carson’s palm, the blade glinting like ice in the winter sun. “It’s easy. It’ll be so easy.”

“Don’t,” Julia says, her gun coming up in a blink. Aimed true at Carson, not even the smallest shake to it. Welch knew what she was doing when she asked Carson. Of all of us, she’s the easiest to maneuver, the one most likely to say yes. She might do this for Welch, and we can’t let her.

   “You can do it,” Welch says, her smile growing. “You’re strong enough, Carson. I know you are.”

I can’t see Carson’s face, but with the way her shoulders straighten, I can tell. Nobody’s said that to her before. I lift my gun, level it at the base of Carson’s neck. I’m close enough that I won’t miss.

“Let her go,” Julia says to Welch, a quiver in her voice turning it to a plea. “Come back to the house with us. We can fix this.”

Carson is staring down at her hand, holding tight to the knife, and I can see her knuckles whiten.

“This is it.” Welch closes her eyes, presses her forehead against Carson’s. “You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Drop the knife, Carson,” I say. “I’ll shoot. You know I will. We need her at the house. We can’t hold it together ourselves.”

Nobody moves. Just the wind and the ocean spray, and above us the sun is starting to break through the clouds. I blink hard, refocus my aim.

“I’m sorry,” Carson says at last. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

I let my gun drop, feel my breath rush out of me. A shaft of sunlight slips through to bounce off the water, and as Julia turns to shield her eyes, I watch it happen. Welch’s hands clasping tight around Carson’s, keeping the knife in her grip. Welch’s chin lifting, and a smile breaking as she looks up. The last flex of her arms as she pulls Carson in and buries the knife between her own ribs.





CHAPTER 18


She goes down slowly. To her knees first, and then she slumps forward onto the pier as Carson lets go and staggers away.

“I didn’t,” Carson is saying. “I swear I didn’t.”

Shock, numb in my nerves. The blood dark and sticking, seeping out to the edges of the pier. Soon it’ll blossom in the water. I can picture it spreading across the surface like oil, shiny and slick and red, red, red.

Julia steps around the box, canister still gleaming inside, and bends to press her fingers against Welch’s neck.

“Nothing,” she says.

She’s dead, and she’s taken her secrets with her. I can’t work out how to feel. Thankful that she can’t hurt me. Angry that I’ll never find out what she knew, that my chances of finding Byatt are slipping through my fingers. And under it all, under everything, so familiar it’s like breathing—guilt eating away at my heart.

   I tuck my gun back into my waistband, bend over, and brace my hands on my knees. Welch had to be telling the truth about our families. There’s no reason for her to lie. And that means my mom is out there, and she isn’t counting the days until I come home.

“Do we tell the others?” I say. I sound hoarse, like I’ve been screaming for hours. “About our families?”

When I straighten up, Julia is shaking her head. “I’m not breaking that news,” she says. “I wish I didn’t know.”

Me too. But there’s no time for any more about it. The day’s passing, and we can’t be out here after dark, especially not without Welch.

I take a quick glance at her body. Her fingers haven’t turned black. Her and Headmistress, sick but not like us, and there’s my proof. “What do we do with her? Carry her back to the house?”

Julia looks past me, to the trees. Blood heavy on the air, a tang like copper in my mouth.

“No,” she says. “The body’ll slow us down. Attract attention we don’t want.”

There’s only one option. Carson is starting to cry, so I take her shoulders, urge her away. Julia and I will do this ourselves.

She takes the feet, and I take the arms. Welch’s body is still warm, limbs still loose, and when I move her hair off her face, I’m looking into her still-open eyes. I want to close them like I’ve seen people do in movies, but when I reach down, her lashes brush against my fingertips, stiff with cold, and I recoil. Mr. Harker felt like this. Soft, with no tension left in his body.

   “Let’s do it quick,” Julia says. She’s crouched by Welch’s knees. “Grab her keys, and then we’ll just push her in.”