Page 44 of Waysider
Around them, the counters were covered in chip bags, family-sized sodas, liquor bottles, and dozens of cans. Cass scanned the mess and briefly considered getting a drink for herself. Then she remembered the last time she’d had a drink. That night had ended with her getting academic probation and a bus ticket back to New York. Definitely not, Cass decided with a wince. A moment later, she noticed a door on the other side of the room. She started toward it without hesitation. Eyes slid toward her, then slid away as she crossed the tiled floor. They’d probably talk about her the second she was gone—the weird girl who had answered the attic riddle, or the quiet Waysider who’d lost it in class—but Cass didn’t care. She slipped outside and shut the door behind her, the curtains clacking against the frame.
Outside, Cass moved onto the porch and breathed in the fresh air greedily, closing her eyes. For the hundredth time that day, she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. Everyone at this school had been through something terrible, and none of them were losing their shit. Not publicly, at least. Why couldn’t she get back to the person she’d been before everything? Maybe Cass hadn’t been perfect, but she definitely hadn’t been such a basket case. Someone who couldn’t even leave her room or enjoy a party.
At least she could take a fucking shower again. That was something, right?
Oh, god. She was so pathetic.
Cass let herself wallow for another minute or two. She knew she had to go back in, though. Her roommates would wonder where she’d gone. Eventually Cass exhaled and squared her shoulders. You can do this. For Finch. For Cal.
She was about to turn around when movement drew her gaze. There was a figure entering the yard through an open gate. When Cass registered what she was seeing, she stiffened.
It was a revenant.
The girl wore a pleated dress, and her hair had been permed within an inch of its life. She could’ve been just another student, were it not for the fact that Cass could see her rib cage, all those white bones gleaming in the moonlight. Shards of glass were embedded in other parts of the girl’s body, blood still running down her skin, as if the injuries were fresh. She’d probably died in a car accident.
House Shadowripper was on the opposite side of campus from House Wayside, which meant it was closer to the road. Cass would bet money this revenant had been drawn here by all the noise. She felt her breathing quicken, her heart beginning to reverberate against the walls around it. She didn’t dare move and draw the dead girl’s attention to her. She could make a run for it, Cass thought shakily. But she was frozen in fear, and she couldn’t seem to move.
As she wavered, Cass felt an abrupt, hot rush of feeling shoot up her throat, practically choking her. God, she hated them. She hated them. Her hands curled into fists, and she trembled with helpless fury.
Completely oblivious to Cass and the darkness emanating from her, the revenant drifted toward one of the windows and peered inside, pressing her fingers delicately against the glass. She stood on tiptoe and watched the partyers with a curious, forlorn expression. Cass willed herself to take advantage of the revenant’s distraction, but even now, she couldn’t bring herself to budge.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there when Cass heard the door hinges squeak, then footsteps on the grass.
“She’s from one of the houses nearby,” someone said.
Cass’s heart did another strange thing at the sound of Sinister Gray’s voice.
A moment later, he stopped beside her, and she glanced up at him. He looked good, Cass observed reluctantly. Tonight there was no sign of the duster jacket, and instead he wore an oversized blazer and ripped jeans. She quickly refocused on the revenant, worried about taking her eyes off it, even for a few seconds. In her peripheral vision, Cass saw that Sinister’s face stayed turned toward her.
“You’re afraid of them,” he said. He sounded surprised.
She made a low, bitter sound. “You aren’t?”
Sinister reached up and did something with his hearing aid. Cass caught herself wanting to ask about it, and whether his NDE had something to do with it. But even before she’d come to Else & Bellows, Cass knew how deeply personal a question like that was. Since then she’d learned that it was an unspoken rule—you only talked about your NDE if you wanted to, and no one would prod or ask. So she stayed silent and waited for Sinister to answer.
“Not really,” he said, raising his hands to sign while he spoke. “Once in a while, on a Haunt, they’ve caught me off guard, and I remember how powerful they are. But I’m not afraid of them.”
“How?” was all Cass said. Her tone was rife with disbelief, and she felt pleading in her eyes as she stared at Sinister. It took her by surprise, but she didn’t try to hide it. Cass wasn’t even sure she could if she wanted to.
It must’ve taken Sinister by surprise, too. He paused, and he searched her expression. A line appeared between his brows. Cass couldn’t define the way he was looking at her. Concern? Disappointment? Normally she would’ve had the urge to shift or fidget, or blurt something out and run. But her mind filled with the image of that empty, shadowed chapel, and she saw Sinister’s silhouette sitting nearby, the two of them sharing that quiet room together. Strangers, yet not, because they’d both gone there for a reason. Not for the first time, Cass wondered what had brought Sinister to the chapel that night.
At last he said, “Come with me.”
Startling herself again, Cass nodded without hesitation. Sinister silently led her to a side gate and held it open, waiting for Cass to walk through before he pulled it shut with a soft, muffled click. Once they were outside, Sinister fell into step beside her, and the two of them started down the sidewalk. The street was lined with elegant houses, most of them darkened and silent. It was late, a time when only college students and lost souls were still awake. Overhead, where there should have been a moon and stars, there was an endless expanse of darkness. The air stirred with a cool breeze and the distant wail of sirens.
Cass was about to ask where they were going, exactly, when Sinister stopped. She shot him a questioning look, but his attention was elsewhere. Cass studied Sinister’s elegant profile for a moment, then followed his gaze.
A man sat on a bench. Cass knew he was what Sinister must’ve brought her to see, since there was no one else in sight. He had white hair and wore a brown suit. He was holding a bouquet of daisies, and he stared straight ahead, as if he were lost in thought. There was nothing remarkable about him, really. Nothing to betray that he was no longer part of their world. But in an instant, Cass knew. It was just a feeling in her gut, a certainty. She was looking at another revenant. Why had Sinister brought her here?
The Shadowripper spoke quietly. The night was so still that Cass felt his voice beneath her skin. “His name is Alfred Pugh,” Sinister said. “When I first saw him, there was something about him. I couldn’t let it go. So I found out who he was, and how he died. I found out how he lived, too.”
Cass raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that the opposite of what we’re supposed to do?”
One side of his mouth tipped up, and after a moment, Sinister peered down at her. “Being a voyant isn’t as black and white as the school makes it seem.”
Cass didn’t look away, and neither did he. Sinister’s gaze was steady. Cass felt that flutter again. To hide it, she smiled back and said, “All right, I’ll bite. What did you learn about Alfred Pugh?”
Finally breaking their stare, Sinister refocused on the old man and shrugged. “He was a simple man. He worked at a printing press for thirty years. He was married to a woman named Rose, who was a schoolteacher. They never had children of their own, but in all the pictures I could find of him, he looks peaceful. They lived in a small house down the street from here. And every night, he waited for his wife at the bus stop so he could walk her home.”
