The Last Harvest(34)

“I do,” I blurt a little too eagerly. “I mean … I’d like to dance with you … I mean, that is, if you’re asking?”

A smirk lights her eyes as she takes my hand, leading me to the center of the dance floor. All eyes are on us, but I don’t care. Ali Miller is holding my hand. A slow song comes on, an old Hank Williams tune. It’s like they’re playing it just for us.

She steps in, lacing her hands behind my neck. I tentatively place my hands on her waist and we sway to the music.

“So, Clay Tate’s finally decided to grace us with his presence?”

I can hardly concentrate on what she’s saying because of the way she’s casually stroking the ends of my hair.

“And he’s finally talking to me again?” she adds, lifting her chin so she can look me straight in the eye.

“Me?” I know I’m supposed to play it cool, but I can’t help myself. “You’re the one who ran out on me that night.”

She lowers her voice. “I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Since when do you do everything the Preservation Society tells you to do?”

She looks at me sharply, but doesn’t reply.

“Besides…” I take a deep breath. “After that, it seemed like Tyler was always around.”

“Since when have you been scared off by Tyler Neely?”

“Since it seemed like you wanted to be with him … instead of me.”

“Is that what you think?”

There’s a wall of tension between us that doesn’t belong there and I don’t know how to break it down. I don’t know how to fix this.

“To be honest, I was afraid,” she says.

“Afraid of what?” My breath catches in my throat.

“Of this,” she whispers, running her hand along my collar, down the length of my tie, straightening my pin. “Being this close to you.”

My heart picks up speed as she touches the cross. Maybe I’ve seen too many monster movies, but I’m pretty sure if the Devil was inside of her she wouldn’t be able to touch it. She must not be that far gone.

“But you’re not afraid anymore?” I ask.

“I don’t know what I am anymore.”

And there’s this tiny moment, a wisp of sadness that passes over her face, making me wonder if she knows what’s happening to her. If she’s trying to tell me something.

“Are you thirsty?” Ali wets her lips.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Let’s get out of here.” She leads me across the lawn toward the main house.

I glance back at the party to check on Mom, Jess, and Noodle, but all I see is Ian Neely smiling at me, raising his glass.





21

ALI LEADS me inside the Preservation Society, down the long hall back toward Ian’s office. It’s dark and quiet. We’re alone. The urge to tell her what’s really happening, to warn her, is too strong to ignore. “Ali, I need to—”

“Shhh…” She presses her finger to my lips and an entirely different urge rises inside of me.

Ali pushes the wood panel behind Ian’s desk and the wall pops open.

“Surprise!” A bunch of people yell from behind the bar—Tammy, Ben, Jimmy, and, unfortunately, Tyler.

“Welcome to the council.” Tyler holds up a bottle of booze, but it’s not a warm welcome. He glares at Ali and then back at me.

“Man, it’s good to see you.” Ben lumbers forward to greet me, clamping his enormous hand over my shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for you all year.”

“Hey, Clay,” Tammy half-whispers as she passes by, never taking her eyes off the ground in front of her. “Welcome to where all the magic happens,” she says completely deadpan.

I can’t help but laugh. I never knew Tammy was funny. Maybe no one knows because they can never hear her.

Jimmy lets out a nervous burst of air, kind of a cross between a laugh and a cough, and then hunches back over the bar, almost like he’s trying to disappear back into the oak. He’s always been an odd one.

“Are you surprised?” Ben nudges me.

“Yeah, I mean look at this place.” I scan the room, my eyes settling on Tyler. More than anything I want to tell him his own dad brought me in here the other night and told me to take his son down. It’d serve him right, his stupid smug ass, but I hold my tongue. Now’s not the time.

For a split second I almost forget why I’m here, but as Tyler pours a round of shots—tequila—I see he’s got his sleeves rolled up just enough so everyone can see the brand on his arm. I mean, who rolls their sleeves up like that? He must’ve seen it in some stupid men’s magazine.

I pretend to adjust my tie, pressing the small button on the top of the cross. I feel skeevy recording all this, but Miss Granger’s right. No one else would be able to get this close to them. And the sooner I get proof, the sooner I can get out of here, and the sooner we can be done with this.

“So, what kind of mark is that?” I ask as I pick up one of the shot glasses. “Is that the Chinese symbol for asshat or something?”

Ben starts laughing so hard he spurts tequila everywhere.

“Yeah, you’re hilarious, Tate,” Tyler says as he refills Ben’s shot glass. “Don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough.”