Page 66 of Waysider
Webster held the steering wheel tightly and kept her eyes on the windshield, as if she were afraid to look at Cass. The realization struck her like the zap of a paracaus blade. It seemed impossible that the Shadowripper would be afraid of anything after Cass had witnessed how she fought.
Webster still didn’t look at Cass as she muttered, “You said you owe me, right? I’d consider us even if you kept what you saw to yourself.”
What you saw. Her words made that moment flash in Cass’s mind again—Victoria and Webster breaking apart, identical looks of horror on their faces. Cass blinked it back and looked at Webster’s profile. The other girl’s shoulders were stiff, her grip on the wheel white-knuckled. She wasn’t just afraid, Cass realized.
Webster was terrified.
“It’s none of my business,” Cass said firmly, hiding a flash of compassion. “No one is going to hear anything from me.”
At this, the Shadowripper finally glanced at her. Cass didn’t see any warmth in her expression, but she thought there might be less worry in her eyes. “Thanks,” Webster replied.
Cass nodded. She started to leave again, but she hesitated. Cass raised her gaze back to Webster, and her voice was barely audible as she said, “You should be honest with Sinister, though. He seems like a good guy. He deserves to know the truth.”
Webster sat there for a few seconds. Cass couldn’t tell if she was pissed or surprised. Webster’s voice was bland as ever when she finally spoke again. “He is a good guy. You’re right about that,” she agreed.
Without waiting for Cass’s response, Webster shifted gears and pressed on the gas. The van rumbled away, and Cass watched the red taillights shrink. She silently replayed their conversation, wondering if she’d handled it right. She and Sinister weren’t friends, exactly, but if the roles were reversed, Cass would want to know the truth.
Camila broke away from the rest of the group and walked over to where she stood. There was a rueful twist to her rosebud lips. “I suppose after this, you will hate them even more. But I swear to you, they’re not all bad, Cass,” she said.
Cass knew she meant the revenants. Just as she was about to make a vague, noncommittal sound, she thought of Michael and how he’d pushed the blade into her hand. She needed to thank him, Cass thought. “Maybe not,” she replied.
Surprise flickered in Camila’s dark eyes. But before she could say anything, a smaller figure appeared at Cass’s other side. Frenchie grinned at her and declared, “We’ve just narrowly escaped death’s cold embrace. It makes one want to seize the day, don’t you think?”
Camila muffled a sound and turned around, leaving without another word. Cass couldn’t help smiling, either. There was no mockery in it—only warmth. Something about the freckled voyant set her at ease in a way few people could.
“Good night, Frenchie,” Cass said. The rejection was gentle, but undeniable. Thankfully, he seemed unfazed.
“Au revoir, beautiful Cass,” the Timekeeper bid with a casual, graceful bow. Then he turned, hands shoved in his pockets, and walked away whistling. Wolfgang caught up to him effortlessly, and a moment later Cass heard Frenchie say, “I don’t need your protection, you big oaf.”
As their voices floated through the night, Sinister appeared beside her. Cass turned so he could see her mouth. “Why do you call him Frenchie?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Because he’s French.”
“Wow. Super original.” Cass smiled to show she was joking.
Sinister didn’t smile back. “We’re not here to be original. We’re here to stay alive,” he said.
Cass reminded herself that she didn’t know him that well, but something in his voice made her feel a prick of anxiety. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“The revenant at the house. How it went after you like it did.” Sinister’s mouth pursed, and he shook his head. The gestures of his hands became urgent. “I’ve never seen that.”
“Yeah, they really do seem to hate me on sight, huh?” Cass said, swallowing. Her mind flashed with all the strange, horrifying things she’d seen. Was it not like that for Sinister and the others? But what could she even do about it?
Cass expected to feel a rush of fear, but her hand tightened around the hilt of the paracaus blade, reminding her once again that she was still holding it. The plan hadn’t changed, Cass told herself. She needed to hone her new abilities and learn how to handle the revenants. She’d just keep going to her classes.
Cass wordlessly handed the paracaus blade to Sinister, knowing there was no way she’d be allowed to take it with her. “Well, I would say this has been fun, but I’d be lying. See you in class, Sinister.”
“I can walk with—” he started.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Webster is waiting up for you. Good night.” Cass gave Sinister a quick, parting smile and set off down the path that would take her home. She didn’t look back.
Once Cass was out of sight, she ran the rest of the way. Her body protested with every movement, but some of her new bravery had faded. Cass didn’t want to be alone on campus any longer than necessary.
House Wayside was dark and still, all of its occupants asleep. Cass crept up the stairs, instinctively noting which ones creaked just in case she needed to sneak in again. Old habits died hard.
When Cass opened the door to her room, Cal was back. She knew that meant she wouldn’t be seeing Michael anytime soon. She’d have to thank him the next time Cal left. Her brother seemed normal enough—he asked how her night had gone, and he sat in her desk chair, his posture loose and casual—but Cass’s instincts whispered as she got ready for bed. Lying. He’s lying.
All she wanted to do was ask where he’d been. Why he hadn’t come earlier tonight. He must’ve felt her fear when that revenant was coming at her.
