Page 99 of Death's Daughter
I stare at her as she pants, out of breath from her outburst. “What is going on? Did something happen?” My heart trips in my chest. “Is it Daan? Did he—”
“No.” She takes a breath, steadying herself. But her eyes are shiny with tears behind her glasses. “Daan is… the same. But Emile—” Her voice cuts off, choked with emotion.
The only other survivor from the Foreign Language House. “Shit. He didn’t make it.”
“No,” Chessa says, but the word comes out silently, caught behind her grief, her worry.
Carter, still only in jeans, leaves the living room area and returns with a zip-up hoodie and a handful of tissues, shrugging into the former while handing the latter to Chessa.
The three of us are quiet while she dabs at her face and regains her equilibrium. Though Devon, off to my side and leaning against the back of the couch, is practically vibrating with impatience.
After a moment, Chessa clears her throat, balls up the tissues, and then pins me with a look. “Canyou do something? That’s what I want to know.”
No. What she wants to know is if I can save Daan, and I’m pretty sure that’s out of my hands.
“I don’t know. I’m doing my best. But even if I manage to stop whatever’s happening, I don’t know that I’ll be able to change Daan’s condition. I tried to save Izzy and—”
“Almost got herself killed,” Devon points out. “The first time.”
I glare at him over my shoulder. “But I will do my best for Daan, for any of them,” I say to Chessa. “You know me, you know that.”
Chessa doesn’t respond, just eyes me, gaze cold, distant, evaluating. As if I’m a stranger she’s deciding whether to trust, rather than the person who rubbed her back when she vomited up platefuls of bad shrimp scampi sophomore year.
“I’m in,” she says finally.
I blink at her. “I… sorry, what?”
“I’m going to help,” she says, pulling out one of the stools at the breakfast bar and hopping up to sit.
“No.” I try for patience. “You’re going to leave. Go to Milwaukee, to your grandma’s, where you’ll be safe.”
“Why? Carter is staying,” she says, daring me to take her on. “Unless you’re saying he brings differentassetsto the table.” She tips her head to one side, in faux inquiry.
Jesus, Chessa.I scrub my hands over my hot face, avoiding looking at Carter. “No, I want him to leave too, to be safe, but I—”
“I told my parents to take my sisters to Milwaukee.” She grimaces. “They think I’m having a nervous breakdown, but after the gas main explosion—”
“Not an explosion,” Carter, Devon, and I say simultaneously.
“—and the attacks at the hotels in town, they were more inclined to listen,” Chessa says, regarding us with a frown.
“Wait. What attacks at the hotels?” I ask.
“If we can focus, please,” Carter interjects.
“A couple of desk staff were taken to the hospital with bumps and bruises after someone came up behind them, but nothing was taken,” Chessa answers me.
“The Just Fuck It?” I ask immediately. Maybe my plan worked, just later than I expected.
“No, the other two. Why?”
“When was this?” I demand.
“Is this really relevant to—” Carter begins.
“Yesterday. Noon or early afternoon, I think,” Chessa says to me, ignoring him.
When I was at Carter’s apartment or searching for Devon on Greek Row.Fuck. One more thing.Though this onemightnot be related to me.
