Page 114 of Death's Daughter
“And she cut herself? Before running away?”
“She went that way,” Chessa says, her face a mask of pain as she tries to point with her good arm toward Greek Row.
Nova might have run, but I bet she didn’t go far. She’s pissed and dying to prove herself, no pun intended. That is a bad, bad combination. I can almost sense her looming nearby, regrouping. All the more reason for everyone to get the fuck out of here.
If nothing else, she’s going to want to rub it in Death’s face that he made the wrong choice in selecting me as a successor. As it happens, I agree with her, but not to the point of wanting to die.
Morales fixes Chessa and Carter with a stern look. “I don’t know what she’s done or said to convince you to participate in this, but I’m telling you, it’s a bad idea to go along with her. On anything.” Then she turns on me. “Just because you’re in the clear, for the moment, on McCarthy’s death, does not mean you’ve gotten away with it.”
It takes me an extra second to process what she’s saying. She means Lennie. Lennie’s death. “You got the security camera footage. Saw that I never left the building,” I say, taking a guess.
“There are other exits,” she says, staring me down.
“You think I jumped out of a window?”
“Look, I don’t mean to interrupt this fun, possibly illegal, or at the very least unethical interrogation, but I think maybe I’m going to pass out.” Chessa holds out her arm, which despite the bulkiness of her coat, seems to be bending in the wrong place between her elbow and wrist.
Oh, shit.
“I’mTrelane’s roommate. I’ll answer any questions you want about her and Lennie, if you get me out of here and to the hospital.” Even in the faint light, sweat gleams at Chessa’s temples and across her upper lip.
“Chessa…” I begin, panic setting in. Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough about exactly how forbidden discussing the Old Ones actually is.
She glares at me. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” she says to Morales. “On the way to the hospital.”
Morales pauses just long enough to take in my reaction and then she nods at Chessa. “All right. You got it, let’s go.” She gives me a grim triumphant smile.
Fuck. So, that’s one murderous Death sibling who is probably looking to feed and feed fast, one ex-crush/hookup who is a giant liar on a scale I don’t even know how to process, and one former best friend who is probably going to get herself killed and me in a metric shit-ton of trouble.
Can I quit now? I feel like I should quit before I get any farther behind in whatever cosmic, dice-rolling, fate-aligned game we’re playing.
As Morales leads the way to her sedan parked in the street, with Chessa, chin up in defiance, following behind, Chessa doesn’t even bother to look back at me. Just drops the pepper spray in a big gesture, as if she’s washing her hands of us, the whole situation.
Great.
Devon staggers to his feet, swaying. “I need to feed.”
I nod wearily and push to my feet. He’s not the only one. Nova fed heavily from me as well, before she was interrupted. “We needto change out of these clothes, too, to get rid of the spray,” I say. Another random fact that stuck around after self-defense class.
I stumble toward Devon, looping his arm over my shoulder to help keep him steady.
“Jocasta,” Carter says, with that stern, undeniable tone that used to send pleasant shivers down my spine, making me soft and eager to do whatever I could to hear more of it.
“No,” I say flatly. No trouble denying him this time.
“We need to talk,” Carter says. “Please.” Emotion fractures his voice.
I can’t look at him. I know the red, swollen eyes are a result of chemicals, but it hurts to see him, to see the pain. “There is nothing to talk about.”
Devon and I awkwardly shuffle our way toward the gate and the street beyond. It’s going to be a long walk back to Branwick without—
My foot connects with something that clinks on the ground.
When I look down, I find the pepper spray Chessa tossed aside so dramatically. But notjustthe pepper spray.
Silver glints in the faint light. Keys. It’s the fob to her mother’s minivan.
The realization clicks a second later. Chessa was putting on a show. Luring Morales away with the prospect of the “truth” so I could do what I needed to do.
