Torn. Part 3

I should have felt triumphant, but instead, every nerve p.r.i.c.kled with wariness. The sensation only increased when he slowed his pace, allowing me to catch up as we crossed into an older, richer part of the cemetery. We wound our way through marble crosses and mournful saints, Luc towing me along.

I watched him, acutely aware that my face was flushed and sweaty. The back of my plain white shirt stuck damply to my skin. Naturally, Luc looked like he'd just stepped out of the pages of GQ. He looked like he knew it, too, which should have made him less gorgeous.

It didn't.

Which was irrelevant, I reminded myself. My interest in Luc was limited to learning more about Verity's time in New Orleans. Time she'd spent with him.

He started up a small hill, his grip firm but not painful. At the top was a white marble mausoleum, standing alone like a Greek temple. Rose-filled planters marched up either side of the stairs, the scarlet flowers overblown and drooping. I tugged away and sat on a marble bench a few feet away, the stone cool under my fingertips. Luc kept his back to me, one hand braced against the corner of the tomb.

"Why did you come today?" I asked, rubbing my elbow where he'd gripped it.

For a moment, he just stood silently. Without turning around, he said, "Same as you. To say good-bye."

I didn't bother to tell him I'd said my good-bye at the hospital. From the tension in his shoulders and the way he kept so still, it was obvious he was looking at something. From my spot on the bench, I couldn't see what it was, but I didn't envy his target.

I scowled at the back of his head. "You lied to the Greys." I raised my voice, remembering the body on the gurney. "She was dead before she got to the hospital. You don't know how she fought."

"She did fight, though." His voice was soft, but what it lacked in volume, it made up in intensity. "You saw what they did to her. You saw how hard she hit back."

The memory of Verity lying in the ER, her hands sc.r.a.ped and b.l.o.o.d.y, made my own hands tremble. He continued, still looking out over the hill. "She lost 'cause they were stronger, and there were too many of them, not because she didn't try hard enough. Everything I told them was true."

"You're not a doctor," I pointed out, trying not to think of Verity fighting off the darkness alone.

He raised his chin, arrogant even in profile. "Never said I was. They filled that in themselves."

"You let them believe it."

He shrugged. "Why'd you give that speech?"

"Mrs. Grey asked me to."

A wry smile curved along one side of his mouth as he turned. "You don't like people looking at you. Shy as a mouse, Vee said. Told me you were the only person she knew who worked as hard to stay out of the spotlight as most people did to get in it."

I didn't know how to respond. It was embarra.s.sing to think she had told him so much about me, and unfair, too. I knew nothing about him. "So?"

"So, you didn't want to get up there. But you did, and you said those things to make her family feel better." He smiled again, bitter and knowing as he walked toward me. "You don't believe you can keep Verity alive in your heart or anyplace else. But you knew it would help her folks if they heard you say it."

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but I couldn't. In that moment, when he'd a.n.a.lyzed me so neatly he could have gift wrapped it with a satin bow, I hated him. Not just for seeing me so clearly-though that was enough-but for knowing how meaningless my words had been.

"It worked," he said softly, before I could deny it. "What you said. It gave them a little bit of comfort when they thought they didn't have any. I did the same thing, is all." He reached a hand out, like he was going to touch my hair, and let it fall away. It was harder to know, to be the one without hope or comfort. He knew it, too, and it separated us from everyone else in the church.

Now it was my turn to look away. I didn't want that sense of connection, especially not with him. Bad enough I was becoming as big a liar as he was. Standing abruptly, I pushed past him toward the mausoleum, and realized what he'd been staring at.

Verity.

The hill overlooked her grave and the small, shallow pond nearby. The crowd had left, and my family was probably looking for me. But seeing the stark black rectangle of earth made everything hurt all over again, as sharp and raw as the moment I'd seen her body. I hugged myself to ward off the pain and breathed in humid, rose-scented air, waiting until the urge to scream had pa.s.sed.

And something shifted.

A stirring at the corner of my vision. I cut my eyes toward it, worried a too-sudden move would make it vanish. At the edge of the woods bordering the cemetery, four cloaked figures appeared, the lead one clad in pale cornflower blue. It was the fluttering of the robes that had caught my notice. As deliberately as a wedding procession, they paced toward the pond, the one in blue leading them. Behind each of them trailed more robe-clad figures in neat lines.

The figure in blue knelt at the edge of the pond, regal and solemn, and reached toward the water, one hand hovering over the surface. The other three did the same. As the breeze picked up, light gleamed fiercely on the millions of tiny waves, setting the surface aflame. Almost without realizing it, I started down the hill, wanting a closer look.

Luc wrenched me around and dragged me behind the mausoleum.

"Hey!" I tugged loose. "Let me go!"

"What do you think you're doin'?" he hissed.

"I need to go down there! Who are those people? Do you know them?" I tried to push past him, but he blocked my way. "Let go of me!"

"Settle down," he snapped. I took a swing at him. With a snort of derision, he grabbed my wrists, muttering something I'm sure was unflattering.

"I want to see them!"

"See who?"

"The people! By the water! You saw them, too, I know you did!" I struggled against him, trying to get free.

He shook his head, his grip like iron. "n.o.body's there."

I froze. "What? Yes, there is! Look. Just look!"

Twisting away, I dashed around the side of the tomb. The sun flashed brilliantly on the white marble walls, blinding me. When the spots cleared, Luc was next to me, face taut and grim.

"You see anyone now?" he asked.

He was right-the pond was still, and there was no one in sight, in robes or anything else. The woods were dark and quiet, the air quavering in the midday heat.

"I saw them. I did." I rubbed my forehead, disoriented.

He slipped an arm around my waist and guided me down the hill. "You keep seeing things that aren't there, Mouse, eventually they'll see you. And trust me, you do not want that."

"You should have let me go."

"Why? There's nothing here for you." He stopped. "If you saw something-and let's be real clear, you most a.s.suredly did not-but if you did, maybe what you saw were the good guys. Her people. And maybe they were coming to say good-bye. Be nice if you could respect that. Everyone should get the chance to say good-bye."

"Did you?" I asked without thinking.

He paused. "Not like I should."

"Why not?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Something came up."

Something being me. No wonder he'd been so angry when I'd insisted we talk. We continued deeper into the cemetery, where the trees were ma.s.sive and gnarled with age. "You said they were the good guys. Are there bad guys, too?"

"There's always bad guys. Don't you know that by now?"

"Which one are you?"

He looked at me, clearly insulted. "You can't tell?"

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "You won't help me. You won't tell me anything useful."

"Useful how, exactly? What Verity was tangled up in . . . you've seen how dangerous it is. You'll get yourself killed."

"I don't care." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"You should," he said firmly. "Leave it alone, Mouse. This isn't for you."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means you're a nice girl. Go off to college. Marry a nice boy. Have some nice kids and live a nice, quiet life in the suburbs. Walk away now, you can still have all of that. You can have whatever kind of life you want, and that's a d.a.m.n blessing."

I shoved him away. "A blessing? I watched my best friend die. What the h.e.l.l is so blessed about that?"

The look he gave me was cold and contemptuous. "You lived. Isn't that enough?"

"No. Not without her." I could feel the tears starting, but pushed on. "Don't you get it? I would do anything to have her back. Anything. It's impossible, I know. But she's gone, and I need . . . I need to make it up to her."

"Quit crying," he said, but there was sympathy in his tone. "It wasn't your fault."

With the heel of my hand, I wiped the tears away. "You don't know that."

"Sure I do." He tilted my face up to his. Up close, his eyes were luminous, like gold-flecked jade. It was hard to see anything else when he looked at me like that. "Verity was fated to do big things, and the people who did this . . . they wanted to keep her from doin' them. They're the ones to blame, not you."

He was trying to make me feel better, but I needed leads, not pity. "Then tell me who. Please. Just a name, that's all. You have to help me."

"There's a lotta things in this world I have to do, but helping you ain't one of them. Besides, you are not exactly bringin' a lot to the table right now." He gave me an appraising look before walking away. "That changes, be sure to let me know."

Mind racing, I called after him, "Like what? What could I possibly have that you'd be interested in?"

He turned, seemingly nonchalant. "Vee bring anything back from her trip? I'm a sentimental guy. Might be nice to have a souvenir."

His casual tone was hiding something more urgent. He was after something, and if I found it first, he'd have no choice but to help me out. Leverage was a concept I'd understood since I was old enough to ask for dessert. "What if I find something? A clue, or a lead, or . . . a memento? For you?"

"I'll be around, now and again." He pushed his way through the branches of an enormous weeping willow. "Have to say, Mouse, I was not expectin' you to be this much trouble."

"I never used to be," I muttered, shoving past the curtain of silver-green leaves to follow him. But Luc had disappeared.

I might have changed, but my family hadn't. That much was obvious when I returned to the parking lot and found them waiting next to my uncle's car. To the untrained eye, my mother and uncle appeared to be having a pleasant conversation. About the construction on the expressway, maybe, or whether the White Sox would go all the way this year, or if tomorrow's special should be blackberry pie or rhubarb. Nearly eighteen years' experience revealed the truth, though. Those splotches of red high on her cheeks, the way she twisted her wedding band, my uncle's rea.s.suring hand pats . . . Mom was in the middle of a category five freakout, and Uncle Billy was trying to calm her down.

"Where have you been?" She rushed over to me, glancing around before continuing. We were alone, but she still kept her voice low. "We have been beside ourselves! Someone said you fainted!"

"I'm fine." I pried her fingers off me. "I was a little light-headed, that's all."

"Why didn't you wait for us? I've been calling your cell every five minutes! We thought . . . I can't even tell you what I thought! How could you scare me like that?"

Uncle Billy pressed a tepid bottle of water into my hands, his expression mingling concern and suspicion. Once I'd talked my mom down, he'd want answers, too. I took a long drink, partly to cool off and partly to buy time while I worked out a story. How did Luc manage to lie so smoothly?

Pasting an embarra.s.sed smile on my face, I pulled out my phone and offered it to my mom. "I turned it off before the service. It didn't seem right to let it ring here." True, actually. And also convenient, since my mother's greatest fear was that I might make a scene. The very suggestion was like my own personal "get out of jail free" card.

"Well," she said, mollified. "That's understandable. Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"Completely. I just got a little woozy."

"That could be serious, sweetheart! A concussion! Maybe we should take you back to the hospital. Billy? What do you-"

Uncle Billy opened her door and helped her into the Cadillac, his voice lightly chiding. "Now, Annie. If the girl says she's fine, she's fine. She probably just wanted to escape for a little bit, like Patty's aunt said."

Evangeline hadn't mentioned Luc was with me, then. Which one of us was she protecting?

My mother waited until I was buckled in, then twisted around in her seat and picked up where she'd left off. "You can't disappear like that again, Mo. Haven't you learned anything? Something could have happened to you."

"But it didn't!"

"This time," Uncle Billy said, tapping one finger on the steering wheel as we headed for the Greys'. "If you're going to wander off like this, Mo, we'll have to keep a better eye on you."

Mom nodded vigorously. If Uncle Billy had suggested we put an invisible fence around the house, she'd have me fitted for the collar by the end of the day. I slumped back in my seat, and we were all silent until we arrived at the Greys' beautiful Prairie-style house.

People streamed in and out steadily, so we let ourselves into the light-filled living room. Almost instantly, my uncle was surrounded by people from the neighborhood wanting his advice or his favor. It was always like this, whether it was at church on Sunday or a Friday night at Black Morgan's. Uncle Billy knew everyone and everything in our little corner of the city. He'd never get on Facebook in a million years, but he was still plugged in.

Meanwhile, my mother headed straight to the kitchen with the pies she'd brought, joining the rest of the Ladies' Guild as they set out hams and ca.s.seroles and potato salad. People milled around me, their murmurs like an ocean of grief. Other than the occasional pitying glance, I was left on my own, which suited me perfectly. Father Armando caught my eye from across the room, and I ducked away before he could come over and tell me again how our faith would sustain us during this difficult time.

Standing in Verity's house was harder than I'd expected. I saw her in every corner-draped over the edge of the couch, poking at the ma.s.sive stone fireplace, stretched out on the floor with a bowl of popcorn while we watched bad reality TV. I pressed my balled-up fists into my stomach, trying to hold it together, forcing myself to think about my mission here, a tangible thing I could do to help Verity.

The fraught, silent ride from the cemetery had given me time to think, to a.n.a.lyze Luc's words in a way I couldn't seem to when he was right next to me. I wanted answers, and he'd given me philosophy and warnings instead. But he'd had questions, too, and they were the only clues I had to go on. Verity had brought something back with her from the summer, more than a tan and the decision to bail on our college plans. Whatever that thing was, Luc wanted it. If I wanted his help, I needed to be the one to find it.

Trying to look casual, I edged my way into the family room, searching for Verity's mom. She was standing near the big brick fireplace, clinging tightly to Con's hand, Evangeline talking in low, soothing tones to both of them. Con nodded rotely, but you could tell she wasn't really hearing anything.

It was lousy timing, and a lousy thing to do, but it couldn't be helped. I squared my shoulders and stepped forward.

"Hi, Mrs. Grey. Hey, Con."

Con's head snapped up, her expression twisting into something ugly and sharp for a second before it retreated back into blankness. I bit my lip and looked away, trying to ignore the hurt.

"Mo," Evangeline said. "We were just discussing the upcoming school year. You're a senior, yes?"

I nodded, grateful for the attempt at normalcy. Con turned her head toward the fireplace.

"Mo's an excellent student," Mrs. Grey put in, her voice thin and wispy as cotton. "Very diligent."

Yep. That was me. Diligent and dull, when I wasn't planning to burgle my best friend's house.

"And your hobbies?"

I commit felonies? "Photography. I'm co-editor-in-chief of the school newspaper this year, and I take a lot of the pictures, too. I play soccer."