The Becoming of Noah Shaw (The Shaw Confessions #1)(72)

. . . your own eyes looking at my eyes when she kills me

She doesn’t just want an audience; she wants our audience. My audience. She wants me to witness. She would choose to end her life in a way I can’t help but see, from almost every direction.

I press my palm to the glass. “She’s on the bridge.”





40


I WILL BREATHE

WE WALK SILENTLY AND A bit scattered—Jamie’s first in our little queue; I follow with Daniel, Leo, and Sophie. Mara and Goose are behind us. We approach at Jay and Sands streets and we’re not stopped. The police might not know what’s happening, if she’s even here. She’s picked a good hour for it.

“She might not even be here.” Daniel gives voice to my thoughts. Having him beside me is steadying, stops me from thinking about Mara in the study—or office, rather. My father had a study.

I blink in the soft, dusty light. Below us, somewhere, is the carousel, encased in glass like a jewel box. Around us is graffiti, harsh and livid. The sun is trying to rise, like a chick trying to break free from its egg. But it’s not dawn yet.

It feels as though we’ve been walking for ages when I spot the first officer. He’s turned to the side, hands in his pockets, staring at something but I can’t tell what, from this angle. He’s still—unnaturally still—as we approach him. He doesn’t turn his head, his eyes don’t move at all, not even to blink.

Jamie looks back at us. “What new devilry is this?”

“Not devilry,” Leo says. He and Sophie exchange a look. “I’m trying something.”

Goose shouts from behind us. “Has it got anything to do with why I feel ill all of a sudden?”

Leo stops. “I’m working on something. An illusion. For the cops and us.”

“Might’ve been nice to have a warning,” Goose says, looking peaked.

“I didn’t know if it would work,” he says. “I still don’t know.”

“Sophie, how many people are here?”

“I’m only seeing us.”

I hang back, to let Goose catch up. “What’re you feeling, mate?”

“Bloody awful.”

“More specifically?”

“Like I’ve just given ten pints of blood . . . from my brain.”

Daniel tenses. “If Leo’s using you to create whatever . . . illusion . . . he’s creating, on however many people . . . there’s not going to be much Goose can do for anyone else.”

Still, next to him, the percussive sound of thousands of heartbeats batters my skull. The bridge trembles as the trains run, but I don’t hear any cars. Maybe the police have caught on to what’s happening and stopped traffic?

Ahead of us, Jamie’s stopped. When we reach him, I see why.

Stella’s climbed the fence. She’s clinging to it, facing the walkway, not the water. She’s been waiting for us.

She’s not the only one here. There are police above, paramedics as well, and one of them’s suspended between the upper level of the bridge and this one. But like that first officer, they too are frozen.

“I’m glad you came,” Stella says, drawing my eyes. “Wasn’t sure you’d bother to find me.”

Jamie’s nostrils flare. “Of course we—”

“I’m talking to Noah,” Stella says. “I knew you’d find me, if you could. But you don’t have his Gifts.” She spits out the word. “What a bullshit word.”

“Are you doing this because of me?” I ask, point-blank.

She laughs. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She looks at Leo, then, and her eyes tear up. “Neat trick,” she says.

“I wanted us to be able to talk without them getting in the way.”

“If they were in the way, maybe they could actually help . . .” Daniel mumbles.

I shake my head, knowing that Stella heard him—his thoughts, if not his actual words. “If they were in the way, Stella would jump. Isn’t that right?”

She smiles. “I like the water.” She twists her head to the left, as much as she can while she’s gripping on to the fence. “I kind of always wondered what it would be like to jump.”

“Like breaking your neck,” Mara says. Her cheeks are flushed; I can feel the anger coming off her like fire. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing this,” Stella says. Her rage is cold. “You are.”

“That’s bullshit, and somewhere in there, you know it.”

“Stop,” Leo tells Mara, holding out his hand. He walks toward Stella. “Let me pull you back. All of us, together, we can make it go away—”

Stella’s eyes frost over. “I made a video to make sure it wouldn’t go away. Now everyone will know what we are, that we exist, and they’ll stop what’s happening to us.”

“Or stop us,” Mara says, without pointing out that Stella didn’t actually name anyone to stop.

A twisted smile forms on Stella’s lips. “Yeah. Maybe they will. I hope they do.”

It doesn’t matter. Reality doesn’t even matter—only what’s in Stella’s mind, and I don’t know that any of us have the right words to change it.