38
NICO
The Hollow is quiet. Deathly quiet. I slip through the dark corridors, past the bedrooms that—less than a few weeks ago—belonged to Nova and the others. Ragnor doesn’t seem to sleep. He’s set up residence in the lounge. The room with the swanky pop-up bathtub and the large fireplace. From there, he can see out to the lawn. From there, he can watch Eve as she continues her never-ending preparation work for the ritual.
I have no idea what the ritual itself involves. Mother doesn’t seem to, either. Only that it has to happen when the moon is full. Yesterday, Eve had Andre catch six rabbits. She skinned them and drained their blood, which now sits decanted into several glass vials on top of the altar she’s constructed in the garden.
She has skulls too. Black feathers. Herbs and crystals. All of which she is continually rearranging while chattering to herself under her breath. She’s barely eaten since we got here. In fact, the only thing I’ve seen her consume is large quantities of FHB.
Ragnor doesn’t seem to care; the only thing he cares about is Elena.
While everyone else sleeps, I head for the kitchen, make coffee, and go to sit on the concrete steps that lead down to the fountain. For perhaps the first time in days, Eve isn’t here. Elena’s coffin is closed, lying in front of the altar. Eve’s strange collection of objects surrounds it.
I’m tempted to go down there and steal something—a feather, a skull, a bag of strange-looking herbs—just to see if it would make any different. But what I told Nova and the others was true; I’m a fucking coward. Even the thought of it makes me feel sick to my stomach.
When I returned from their cabin in the woods, I couldn’t quite believe I’d had the nerve to go through with my plan to help them. I felt sure that my mother would know what I’d done as soon as she saw me, or that Ragnor would have had me followed, or that I’d give the game away myself by being so hell-damned pathetic.
But they didn’t suspect anything. Barely even noticed I’d been gone for a few hours.
I look at my phone for the time. I should have given Nova my cell number. At least then she might have been able to contact me and tell me what was happening. But who am I kidding? Like she’d have trusted me enough to tell me anything.
I don’t blame her. How could she possibly trust me after what I did? After the lies I told?
I’m ignoring the sting of hot coffee in my mouth when a familiar scent drifts toward me on the breeze. I put the cup down so quickly that liquid sloshes over the rim and stains the concrete below it. “Sam?”
I bolt for the trees, following the scent. As I draw closer, I know I’m not mistaken.
When I reach the barrier, my brother is staring at me from the other side of it. He raises his hand, palm-out, a cross between a wave and a salute.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, panic flushing my cheeks. “Are the others with you?”
Sam shakes his head. “I came to…” He pauses. “Can you let me in?”
Hissing, my heart beating so hard I feel like I might crack a rib, I reply, “Sam, you can’t come in here. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m here for Nova,” Sam says, his eyes widening. “So I can create a distraction while they try to get past the barrier.”
I’m surprised he’s giving me this much information. He knows nothing about me, except what Nova must have told him. Yet, I can see it in his face—he trusts me.
“It’s too dangerous—”
“Nico, please. One of us has to do it.” He fixes his eyes on mine. Shame hums in my chest. He knows it won’t be me. “What will you tell Ragnor?”
“I’ll tell him I tracked him down. That the adoption agency told me his name and I did a tracking spell to find him.”
“That won’t work.” I shake my head. “He’s got defenses against spells like that.” My mind moves quickly. “Andre, one of Ragnor’s wolves, has a cousin. A deadbeat who hangs out on the FHB circuit. He’s the runner who brings Eve’s supply up here.”
“Does this guy ever workSpine?” Sam asks.
“What dealersdon’tfrequentSpine?” I ask, frowning.
“Good. That works.” Sam folds his arms. Without a hint of self-pity, he says, “I worked inSpinefrom the age of sixteen. So, that story makes sense—Sarah could have given me Ragnor’s name, and I could have tracked him down via Eve’s contact.”
“Sarah?” I don’t know that name.
“The woman who—” Sam shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. What’s the cousin called?”
“Don’t know. Don’t think it matters.” I glance back at the house then at Sam again. “You’re sure about this?”