Страница 34 из 90
Saint
“So, this garden?” Sam says, his fingertip grazing the sharp edge of a stray leaf from a Devil’s Ivy. “Is there something special about it?”
I wrap my arms around myself to stop the cold from creeping in. “I don’t know. You tell me, you’re the professional man witch…”
He raises an eyebrow at me while taking a seat on the bench that’s in the center of the rounded greenhouse. “I get the feeling you don’t want to be here.”
“Hmmm.” I sit beside him, aware how close our fingers came to touching. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I love The Coven. It gives me a sense of self that’s away from my usual life—but…”
He hangs onto my words as I try to find the next ones.
“I guess you could say I found out some information recently that flipped my world upside down and now I’m trying to live with it.” He doesn’t answer. I appreciate that. I’m not talking for answers. I’m not looking for anything.
He crosses his leg over his knee, turning inward toward me. He’s dressed in a suit. I have to stop the comparisons that whiz through my brain. The complete opposite to Brantley. Might be good to talk with someone who shares no resemblance to my deepest and dirtiest nightmare. “You want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” I keep my eyes locked on the peace lily in front of me. How ironic. “Tell me why Frankie is obsessed with you.” I say, suddenly desperate to focus on anything but Brantley.
Sam laughs, his head tilting back. “Ah, Frankie. She and I have known each other for a little while. I guess she doesn’t like being told no.”
“So you and her?”
He stares at me. “There is no you and her.” I find his words trustworthy, but then maybe that’s what he wants me to think.
“Oh, there you two are!” Veronica sashays through the entrance with a train of black satin not far behind. “I got an interesting invite from The Kings.” I pause. I’ve ignored all of Bishop and Madison’s texts, even Tillie’s. The truth is, the only reason why I was so quick to jump into the car with Veronica is because I thought the memories might choke me. All of them remind me of the life I knew in one way or another. I can’t stomach them right now. I hope they will understand.
“What?” I whisper, though I’m not sure they heard.
Veronica picks up a rose gold watering can and begins showering the greenery. “The reopening of the high school and the college. They would like us to be there, along with my friends.”
“Why?” Sam asks dubiously.
“Well, the invite extended to all of the… families that reside in Riverside, and on the outskirts, too. I guess we are only part of that.” She places the can back down and turns to look at me. “It’s not for another two weeks, Saint. Until then, we can focus on you learning your craft a bit more and you can spend time with Sam and your sisters.” Veronica leans down, her fingers on my knee and her eyes pointedly on mine. “And when you show up to that ball, my dear,” the edge of her nail glides down my cheek, “we’re going to make them wish they never lied to you.” She pushes off me and pats my head. “We’re having a feast tonight. Wear your best attire.” She disappears the way she came, like a tornado sweeping through an i
Samael stands. “I’ve got to hit the gym. I’ll see you later?”
I smile up at him, though it doesn’t go u
I unlock my phone and stare down at the blank screen. White. Nothing but the black clock numbers stare back at me. I swipe it unlocked and open a new message to Bishop.
Me: I’m ok. I need time.
Once I hit send, I place my phone onto the seat and move toward the cuttings of plants that are sitting in glass vases. Some I don’t recognize. Actually, all I don’t. Pink and whites ripple through the leaves of one, while another is completely black. Even darker than the black raven plant. I tap my fingers against the counter. My thumbs drum to a beat, grazing against the imposed carvings in the wood.
I tilt my head and move the plants and vases away, desperate to see what the images are or what they make up. Patterns co
Pulling open the top drawer, I find a pack of matches and begin lighting the wicks of the candles that are scattered around. It is lovely in here, though not as nice as the one back in the manor. Picking up my phone, I snap a photo of the bath, now filled with crimson rose petals floating in the soapy water. I scroll through Instagram and get ready to type my second post. My fingers hover over the keys. My eyes are heavy, needing sleep that no amount of time could ever satiate.
Am I dreaming, or am I still awake?
I type out the caption… A dream is just a nightmare wearing makeup.
I push post and slowly remove my clothes until they’re a pool around my feet. I dip my first toe into the water and wince when the sting grips me, but continue to sink my whole body in, ignoring the bites of heat. My phone begins vibrating beside me, but I close my eyes to ignore it. I’ve become good at disregarding that damn vibrate. Sinking deeper into the water, I allow it to wash over me, my tears floating away with the rose petals. No one will know I’ve been crying deep in here. There’s nothing but white noise and the distinct dripping of the water falling into the tub. I arise and swipe the excess from my face, finally snatching my phone when I notice it’s still popping off. I unlock and go to Instagram.
So.
Many.
Comments.
But one sticks out. It isn’t because the words are kind, or that she is a friend. It’s that the poster reads @Frankenstein. I curl my lip. Are you alone, or did Samael follow you in there, too? Haven’t seen him since you both disappeared into the Garden of Eden.
I pause.
I know that realistically speaking, she can say what she wants about Sam and me. That it’s no one’s concern anymore. I know I don’t have to worry about Brantley flipping out or calling me like a psychopath, or even worse, appearing here and causing a scene. My heart rate beats at the same tempo as the tap. I don’t have to worry because I’m not his problem anymore. I’m much worse. I’m—I can’t even say it.