Page 116 of Devils' Day Party
He seemed to think she might be the one who posted the video.
I gnaw on my lower lip in thought, hesitating in the doorway long enough that Erina looks up from behind her leaf-mask and catches me staring at her.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice sharp enough to cut. I move forward, pausing in front of the makeshift table.
The tablecloth is covered with treasures: quartz crystals, tourmaline bracelets, suncatchers strung with an entire rainbow's worth of gems. There are cupcakes on a separate desk, sitting beside containers with fresh biscuits and little tubs of chocolate gravy. Directly in front of me, I see an array of insects trapped in shadow boxes, sealed into resin coffins and strung with chains, or mounted on the ends of branches and tied together in macabre bouquets.
I pick up the insect bouquet, marveling at the craftsmanship that must've gone into it.
I'll admit: I'm impressed.
“Do you know Calix Knight?” I ask casually, lifting my eyes up to meet Erina’s. The bouquet has real roses mixed in, and even though I'm burying my face in a sea of dead insects, I drop my nose to the flowers and breathe in their sweet scent.
If this time loop crap has taught me anything, it's that I need to stop and smell the fucking roses. Literally. Even if—no, especially if—they’re surrounded by invasive pests.
Erina scowls at me, but she can't really get around answering that question, now can she? I've seen her with Calix, even in the span of my repeated days. The last distinct memory I have is of her hanging off his arm, the night where I got drunk and Luke ended up … Well, never mind that bit.
“Of course I know Calix Knight. Only an idiot would pretend they didn't. What do you care?”
“I want you to send this to him,” I say, holding out the bouquet. It's the most interesting item on the table, and while I'm not sure he'll fully appreciate, I … My hand shakes as I hold onto the bouquet, my mind spiraling into despair as I remember how close I got to winning this thing, how I made Calix mine, how I saw the fucking sunrise. “And then I want one of these sent to Barron Farrar.” I drop the bouquet in front of Erina, so she can ring it up, and then add a necklace to my order. It might not be a Diana fritillary butterfly in there—just one of those awful gypsy moths—but it's the thought that counts.
Erina's nostrils flare as she snatches an iPad from the table and starts punching in numbers. Mr. Aldrich sits behind her, sipping on a Styrofoam cup filled with coffee, and monitoring the proceedings with an expression stuck somewhere between pride and complete and total boredom.
“And this.” I grab a beautiful stone cut into the shape of a heart. It's about the size of my palm, nice and cool, and made from beautiful teal amazonite. “This I want sent to Pearl Boehringer.”
Erina actually stops typing to look up at me, narrowing her blue eyes in suspicion.
“You want to send a heart to Pearl Boehringer?” she asks, like I'm the stupidest human being to ever live. “Why? Do you think that bitch likes you anymore than the Knight Crew does? Or is this your pathetic attempt at charity?”
“Does it matter what I'm doing?” I ask, frowning hard and clenching my hands into fists at my sides. “Just put my order together and send everything anonymously.”
“Anonymously?” Erina echoes, tilting her head to the side like a confused dog. “What's the fucking point in that?”
“Erina …” Mr. Aldrich warns, but then he stands up and wanders over to the food table, picking himself out a red velvet cupcake.
“Yes, anonymously,” I say, exhaling and waiting for Erina to type in all the recipient info. “Hey, by chance, do you happen to have a recording of Calix and me fucking at last year's Devils' Day Party?”
I wish I could've recorded her face in that moment. If ever there was an admission of guilt, this is it.
She sits there, stone-still, finger poised above the iPad. There's just something about blurting a dark secret into the bright light of day that chases away all the shadows. It isn't easy for most people to lie well enough to escape, even if it's only their body language that gives away their treachery.
“Why on earth would you ask me that?” she purrs, her voice almost maniacal as she glances up at me, the vines on her mask caught on the shoulders of her academy-issued blazer. Suddenly I feel like I'm the insect in this scenario, and she's the masterful artisan covering me with clear resin, trapping me. Fuck, this girl is scary. Calix did refer to her as a stalker, and as much as I hate the guy … I've realized now that it's love-hate, which is a totally different thing.
