I shot him a look.
“Yeah, maybe not,” he said wryly.
I was actually kind of relieved that she wasn’t going to be with us. Without her around I might be able to get some answers. “So can I come with you, then?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I thought you might want to stay here with Cacey.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’d much rather go with you.” I didn’t want my enthusiasm to show too much, so I added, “This place really gives me the creeps.”
Uri laughed. “Where we’re going isn’t much better.”
I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeeeeeeease?”
“All right. Fine.” He sighed heavily.
“Do you mind if we skip breakfast?” I asked as we got closer to the dining room. The smells wafting out of there were revolting. “I’m not hungry.”
“Fine by me. I hate hospital food.”
He pushed open a nearby side door, and we went outside. There was a golf cart with a driver sitting there, waiting for us. Uri sat down in the back and motioned for me to sit beside him.
We drove down a winding road and up a short hill before finally stopping in front of the middle building. The biggest one.
“Just stay with me, okay?” Uri said. “Nothing will happen, but better to be safe than sorry.”
I nodded solemnly and followed him in.
We were buzzed into an entryway by a nurse who was simultaneously doling out pills into empty cups and entering something into a computer. She came around to get us, and we trailed behind her, walking past peeling walls and poorly lit patient rooms with their doors open. Her thick rubber-soled shoes made a squeaking sound that echoed eerily.
We rounded a corner and passed several more rooms. These all had closed doors.
“Treatment rooms.”
The nurse caught me looking, and it was amazing how fast her head could spin around to say those words and then spin back again.
“Obviously you won’t be seeing the insides of any of those. Strictly for the more severe cases. Although, I suppose a tour
Uri must have agreed with me, because he politely declined for the both of us. We passed an empty nurse’s station and went around another corner, then came to a small room with a sitting area. “Here we are,” the nurse said. “Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable.” She gestured at two cracked brown leather chairs with a round table in between them.
Uri moved one of the chairs closer to me, and I sank down into it. He sat in the other one.
The nurse turned to leave, then stopped and whipped her head back around. “I’m sure both of you already know this, but liability requires us to give you an official warning. Don’t go anywhere unattended, don’t antagonize any of the patients that you may come into contact with, and don’t believe anything they say. They are very sick individuals.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but only nodded her head and then marched back out the door.
I stared after her for a minute, kind of stunned. “What do they think we’re going to do?” I asked Uri, speaking in a hushed tone. “Go around poking the patients with sticks?”
“You’d be surprised,” he said.
I shook my head, and looked around again. “So, what do we do now?”
“Now we wait.”
Chapter Eleven. NOT REAL
The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions …
– “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
Settling back into my chair, I gazed around the tiny room. Gray walls, gray ceiling, gray floor. I saw where the facility got its name from. A large picture window, grimy with dust and old age, took up half the wall across from us. Metal bars covered it in square-inch increments. Overall, the aesthetic had all the same pleasing qualities that I’d imagined a police interrogation room might have.
A loud bang echoed from the hall and made me jump out of my seat. I could hear harsh sobbing from someone, but it was quickly silenced. My skin began to crawl.
“This hasn’t been the greatest experience for you, has it?” Uri said.
“Not exactly.”
“Sorry about that.”
His words surprised me. The Revs didn’t seem like the type to project the warm and fuzzy. Except for the whole mind mojo thing. That was definitely fuzzy. “Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Sure.”
“Do you like being a Revenant?”
Uri stretched his legs out in front of him. “I don’t have a choice. I am what I am.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
His look told me that he “couldn’t say” but I gave him an
I used his words and added a shrug. “I don’t have a choice. I am what I am.” Then I thought about it. “Or do I?”
“Abbey, I-”
“Come on, Uri. I’m not asking a whole lot here. Just talk to me. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but … but I can guess, right? How about that? I’ll just throw some stuff out there, and you can nod or shake your head. That way you’re not
“I can’t. Acacia will kill me.”
“Acacia?” My ears perked up.
“Cacey.” He clarified. “I mean Cacey.” He scrubbed one hand over his face with the long-suffering look of someone who’d realized he’d just opened a can of worms.
“Acacia,” I mused. “‘Cacey’ for short. Which means that ‘Uri’ could be short for something. We can start there.”
He stayed silent.
“So if ‘Cacey’ is a nickname, and ‘Uri’ is a nickname, odds are ‘Kame’ and ‘Sophie’ are nicknames too.”
“Not ‘Kame,’” he finally admitted. “But ‘Sophie’ is short for ‘Sophiel.’ And I’m Uriel.”
“We were given proper names at the ceremony when we became Revenants. But they aren’t exactly traditional names. Modern people like easy, so it’s what we do when we’re here. It’s easier to fit in that way.”
He gave me a pointed look, and I held up two fingers. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Scouts’ honor. Besides, I’m going to die soon. Who am I going to tell?”
He looked uncertain, but I pressed on. “How come no one will tell me when my exact death day will be?”
“That’s the rule.”
“Rule? There are rules?”
“Not ‘rules’ specifically. Guidelines. Humans don’t know when they are going to die. That can’t be
