eyes opened into thin slits warned me to forget that idea.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Daemon prodded.
“Sure, I have something else.” Luc lifted those long lashes. “You really shouldn’t trust a soul in this game. Not when everyone has something to gain or lose.”
Chapter 29
Over the course of several weeks, interviews given by local law enforcement and tearful pleas from Carissa’s parents appeared on the nightly news, candlelight vigils were held, and reporters from all around came, drawn in by morbid curiosity. How could such a little town have so many children who just disappeared? Some even speculated that a serial killer had targeted the sleepy town in West Virginia.
Being at school, listening to everyone talk about Carissa, Simon, and even Adam and Beth was hard to do. Not just for me, but for all of us who knew the truth.
These kids didn’t disappear.
Adam and Carissa were dead, most likely Simon, too. Beth was being held against her will in a government facility.
A dark, somber mood settled, creeping into every part of us, and there was no shaking it. Of course suspicion blossomed along with the spring grass and tiny buds at school, because only one of the kids had reappeared and that had been Dawson. But his reappearance had signaled the disappearance of others.
There were whispers in the hall and long looks passed among students whenever Dawson or Daemon was around. Possibly because very few could tell them apart, but both brothers acted like they didn’t hear it. Or maybe they just didn’t care.
Even Lesa had changed. Losing a friend would do that, as would the inability to find any closure. There was never a reason for why Carissa had disappeared, at least not for Lesa. She, like so many others, would spend a lifetime wondering why and how it happened. And not knowing created this powerlessness to move on. Even though the seasons were changing and spring was well on its way, Lesa was stuck on the day before she found out her best friend had vanished and the day after. She was the same girl in some ways: moments where she’d say something wholly inappropriate and she would laugh, and then others when she didn’t think I was looking, her eyes would cloud with misgiving.
Carissa wasn’t the only newsworthy case, though.
Dr. William Michaels, aka Mom’s boyfriend and all-around douche canoe, was reported missing by his sister about three weeks after Carissa dropped off the radar. A frenzied storm descended once again. Mom had been questioned and she… She had been a wreck. Especially when she learned that Will had never signed in at any conference in the west, and no one had seen or heard from him since he left Petersburg.
Officials suspected that foul play might have been involved. Others whispered that he had to have something to do with what happened to Carissa and Simon. A prominent doctor just didn’t simply cease to exist.
But Daemon and I were still alive, so all we could assume was that the mutation had held and since he had gotten what he wanted, he was in hiding. Worst-case scenario, Daedalus had picked him up somewhere. Didn’t bode well for us if that happened, but hey, it served him right if
All in all I wasn’t torn up over the fact that for right now, Will was a nonissue, but I hated seeing Mom go through this again. And I hated Will even more for putting her through it. She hit every stage of the grieving process: disbelief; sorrow; that horrible, lingering lost feeling; and then anger.
I had no idea what to do for her. The best I could was spend the evenings with her on her days off, after I finished with the onyx stuff. Keeping her company and distracted seemed to help.
As weeks passed and there was no sign of Carissa or anyone else that had held the little town captive, the inevitable happened. People didn’t forget, but the reporters went away and then other things occupied the nightly news. By mid-April, everyone for the most part was back to doing their own thing.
I’d asked Daemon one evening as we walked back from the lake, enjoying the warmer temperatures, how could people forget so easily? A bitter sensation had taken up residence in my tummy. Would that happen to me one day if we didn’t come back from Mount Weather? People would just get over it?
Daemon had squeezed my hand and said, “It’s the human condition, Kitten. The unknown isn’t something that sits well. They’d rather push it away—not completely, but just enough that it’s not always shadowing their every thought and action.”
“And that’s okay?”
“Not saying that it is.” He’d stopped, placing his hands on my upper arms. “But not having the answers to something can be scary. People can’t focus on that forever. Just like you couldn’t focus on why it was your dad who had to get sick and pass away. That’s the big unknown. You had to let it go eventually.”
I’d stared up at him, his striking features highlighted in the waning light. “I can’t believe you can sound so wise.”
Daemon had chuckled, running his hands up and down my arms. Promising chills followed. “I’m more than looks, Kitten. You should know that.”
And I did. Daemon was ridiculously supportive most of the time. He still hated that I was taking part in the onyx training, but he wasn’t pushing it and I appreciated that.
I threw myself into training with the onyx, which left little time for anything other than going to school. Onyx stripped away energy and after every session, all of us were quick to pass out. And we were so wrapped up in building our tolerance, watching out for officers and implants that we hadn’t even celebrated Valentine’s Day besides the flowers he’d bought me and the card I’d given him.
We kept planning to make up for it, to do the dinner thing, but time got away from us or someone got in between us. Either it was Dawson impatient to save Beth and a hairbreadth from storming Mount Weather, Dee wanting to murder someone, or Blake demanding that we do the onyx thing every day. I’d forgotten what it felt like when it was just Daemon and me.
I really began to think his sporadic late-night visits really were a product of my overactive imagination, because at the end of the night, he was just as whipped as I was. Every morning it seemed like a vivid dream and since Daemon never mentioned it, I let it go while looking forward to it. Dream Daemon was better than no Daemon, I guessed.
But by the beginning of May, the five of us could handle the onyx for about fifty seconds without losing control of our muscle functions. Didn’t seem like a lot of time to the others, but it was progress to us.
Halfway through today’s practice, we gained an audience that included Ash and Dee. Those two were becoming real bosom buddies of late, while I was basically friendless with the exception of Lesa on good days.
Bad days were when she missed Carissa and no one could replace that lost friendship.
Watching Ash teeter around on her ridiculous heels, I had to wonder how Ash and Dee were even getting along. Besides their obsession with fashion, they had little in common.
Then I realized what probably had bonded them together: their grief. And here I was, begrudging them of that. I could be such a tool.
Matthew was in the process of picking himself off the ground as Ash tottered over to the onyx, frowning. “It can’t be that bad. I have to try it.”
I bit back a mad grin. I was
“Uh, Ash, I really wouldn’t suggest doing that,” Daemon began.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Bending over gracefully, she picked up one of the shiny blackish-red jewels while I held my breath. Not even a second later, she shrieked, dropped the onyx as if it were a snake, and stumbled backward, falling flat on her butt.
“Yep, not bad at all,” Dawson commented drily.
