Page 58 of Waysider
At the approach of their headlights, someone got out. A man, Cass saw as they got closer. He was obviously alive, and her chest loosened with relief. As soon as she got a look at his face, though, the relief vanished. He looked…
Terrified, Cass thought. He looked terrified.
“The family has vacated for the evening,” the man said by way of greeting, speaking the second they were all out of the van. As if he were in a hurry. He was middle-aged, with crow’s feet and peppery hair, and he wore a wrinkled white shirt. The material around his armpits was slightly darker. Strange, since it was a cool night.
“You don’t want to walk us to the door?” Frenchie asked innocently. Cass wasn’t the only one who had noticed the man’s eagerness to leave.
“It’s unlocked,” was all the stranger said, and then he got in his car without another word, closing the door hard. The gate was still open, and the man drove away so forcefully that his tires screeched against the pavement. Cass smelled burnt rubber as he tore down the hill.
“Normies,” Frenchie said with a roll of his eyes. Wolf grunted in agreement.
“Poor man,” Camila murmured, pulling something out of her back pocket. She tugged a pair of fingerless gloves on as if she were readying for a fight. A cross necklace glinted against the hollow of her throat.
The others were putting things on, too. While they got ready, Cass walked over to Sinister, who’d gone to the back of the van. He held a pair of boots out and spoke without turning. “Here, these should fit you.”
They were surprisingly heavy, Cass discovered as she took them. But he was right, they did fit. Cass knelt on one knee, tying the laces on each shoe. She stood up and did some experimental hops. Grinning, she lifted her head and caught Sinister staring at her. He quickly turned away, rummaging some more. Before Cass could ask the Shadowripper why she needed a pair of clunky boots, he straightened again. This item was less familiar, and Cass frowned. It looked like a sword, but the pointed, stabby part of the weapon wasn’t metal, and its shape was strange. Not sharp or deadly in the slightest.
“It’s called a paracaus blade,” Sinister told her. He moved a small switch on the base of the hilt, and Cass heard a brief humming sound. He held it out in a silent invitation. Cass took it from him slowly, her fingers curling around the weapon just beneath where Sinister held it. After a moment or two—Cass told herself she was imagining the way he lingered—he pulled away.
“Thanks,” Cass said. She sounded normal, thank god.
Sinister nodded and asked, touching the edge of his hand between his thumb and finger, “Did you get a chance to read the file?”
Cass remembered the folder he’d given Camila. It had never reached her, probably because of Chad taking his sweet time when it got to him. “No.”
“Knowing about the family or the background of the property can be helpful with untethering,” Sinister told her. “You’ll learn more about that in your second year. For now, all you need to know is that this is the Masterson residence. Or it was—they moved out a few weeks ago. There was a home invasion, and Mrs. Masterson was killed.”
Cass swallowed. So it had been a violent death. “Oh. That’s really sad.”
“Hey,” Sinister said. Cass glanced up at him, and their gazes locked. “You’re a survivor. Nothing in that house is stronger than you.”
In the pause that followed, Cass remembered what Headmistress Crane had said about him. Mr. Gray is known for his discipline and intelligence in the field, and he’s earned the respect of many on this campus, not to mention throughout the entire community. His word is as good as a binding contract.
On the Shadowripper’s other side, Chad’s eyebrows rose. “You’re letting her have one of those? Isn’t that a little risky? She hasn’t been trained.”
“Then what’s your excuse for being so lousy with them?” Webster asked, snapping a rifle open to peer inside the barrel. Cass felt her eyes widen at the sight of it.
Chad scowled. “I’m on the lacrosse team. I don’t have as much time as you to play with toys.”
“That’s funny. I’m pretty sure you play with a little toy every night,” Webster countered. A burst of laughter came from behind them. Chad’s nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth to respond.
“You guys carry guns?” Cass interjected. She had a feeling this could go on all night, and the sooner they began, the sooner it would all be over.
“The bullets are made of salt,” Wolfgang explained. “Won’t kill ’em, but it’ll hurt like hell.”
“They also don’t like iron,” Frenchie added, glancing down at Cass’s boots. So that’s why they were so heavy. It might’ve been helpful for Sinister to tell her when she put the boots on.
Chad pointedly turned his back on Webster and refocused on their leader. His voice rose with indignation. “Seriously, man. She could accidentally fry one of us.”
Sinister looked at Chad for a moment, sliding another paracaus blade into his belt. Tension swelled between them, and the rest of the group went quiet. Then Sinister turned to Cass and said, “Leave the switch off. There, is that good enough for you, Airweaver?”
Without waiting for Chad’s response, Sinister moved to get something else out of the van. When he reemerged, he was holding a familiar wooden box between his hands. He lifted the lid, and Cass caught a glimpse of the vials stacked inside before Sinister turned, giving one to Webster. After that, he continued on down the line. Once all of them had a bottle, Sinister lifted his in a brief salute. His expression was hard.
“What’s done cannot be undone,” he said.
No one repeated it back, like Cass half-expected them to, but there were nods and sounds of agreement. A moment later, everyone tipped their heads back and downed their See.
It tasted as good as before. Like sugar water, or flower nectar. Within seconds, a soft glow appeared at the edge of Cass’s vision. She looked around slowly, and she could feel her heart pounding inside her. The thump-thump, thump-thump made her ears pulse.
