“Are you all right?”
Her scent was overpowering, different now than it had been in the memory—a woman’s scent. He wanted to touch her. To comfort her. To comfort himself.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Arielle, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“It didn’t happen to me, Michael. That’s what you need to understand. It happened to Charlotte.”
“And William—he was the result?”
Her eyes went vacant for a moment. He sensed an idea had taken hold of her.
“Give me your hand,” she said.
Michael reached for her, his arm trembling. She took his hand and placed it flat against her sternum, just below the hollow at the base of her throat. Under his fingertips, her heart hammered furiously.
“You took it away,” she said. “It doesn’t feel wrong anymore.”
She lifted his hand and placed it on her cheek, nuzzling his fingers as if the sensation was new to her, something electrifying that had been missing from her life until now. Her face turned and she kissed his palm.
Michael pulled her face toward his. Arielle’s pupils widened, each floating in its tiny sea of blue, and her next breath was hot against his mouth. His lips found hers, and they held each other for a while before it was time to walk back to Silo Street.
Chapter 13
A choir of crickets chirped in the night, masking the sounds of his movement.
Pistol in hand, Michael crept through the woods running along Apple Orchard Road. In the mansion at the end of the quiet street, a light was burning in one room on the second floor. John Meacham was inside that room, probably surrounded by his men. Michael had enough bullets for all of them. His head ached with the memory of what he’d seen in Arielle’s past. Someone had to pay for Paul’s sins, and for letting the same sins happen again and again to the innocent people of this town. It was time to end John Meacham’s reign of terror and lies.
His inner sight made out the presence of four men inside the room, one of them Meacham. The light in the window intensified as one of the men stoked the logs in the fireplace.
Michael crept forward—
…and stopped as the branches became long, skinny arms with hands and sharp fingernails that swiped at his face.
He fell back as the world darkened around him.
You son of a bitch, a voice whispered in his head.
Michael tried to force the illusion away, but pain spiked in his skull. The branches appeared to be closing in on him.
Leave me alone, he told the voice, which had disguised itself.
It could be Blake, or Dominic…
A sudden force flipped him over. He landed facedown, his chin snapping a twig. As he tried to wrestle himself free, a hand clamped over his mouth, and he found himself pinned to the ground under an overwhelming physical and mental weight.
“Shhh…” the man whispered in his ear. “Look up at the house, beneath the window.”
Michael did as he was told. He hadn’t seen the sentry posted there, and now, as he peered up the small hill, past the branches and leaves to the side of the house, he almost couldn’t believe the man had been there all along. He leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette, an automatic rifle slung over one shoulder.
“You almost got yourself killed,” Dominic whispered into his ear. “You wretched little shit.”
Michael let himself go limp with shame. Dominic removed his hand from Michael’s face and rolled off of him. His eyes appeared to gleam with anger in the soft light filtering through the leaves, and his shoulders were hunched forward giving him a wolf-like appearance. Michael was suddenly afraid.
He was about to speak when Dominic motioned for him to be quiet.
I’m blocking his senses. Let’s move.
He glanced back at the sentry and saw the man rubbing his face, probably confused as to why his ears and eyes felt like foreign objects attached to his head. A trick Michael hadn’t thought to use; the pistol had felt like enough.
Follow me, Dominic sent.
They crept down the hill, past trees and overgrowth, along a path leading away from the house. When the light from Meacham’s window was out of sight, Dominic whirled on him.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Michael looked down at the pistol in his hand, clicked the safety back on, and sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
“What were you going to do, assassinate all of them and go back to Silo Street like nothing happened?”
Michael kept silent. Dominic was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt clearly intended for a late-night run. He was lucky Dominic had come out when he did.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Michael said.
“You weren’t thinking. You were being impulsive and stupid, two qualities I thought you’d overcome.”
Michael sat on a large rock jutting from the earth. From here, they could see the shady rooftops of Gulch. Dominic sighed and sat on the ground a few feet away from him.
“I’m not good at this sort of thing,” Dominic said, and Michael could sense the man was struggling against the urge to leave him here. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Arielle. She—she showed me what happened six years ago, with Paul.”
Despite the shade masking Dominic’s face, Michael could tell he was scowling.
“What did she show you?”
Michael explained everything, in detail, including the part at the end where Dominic had leaped out of the bushes to stab his own brother in the neck.
“He’s your nephew,” Michael said. “William.”
Dominic nodded. “Now you know.”
“Did they make you leave Gulch?”
“They tried, but they didn’t get that far. You see, I broke the law when I killed Paul. He deserved a fair trial.”
“Deserved?” Michael leaned forward, suppressing the urge to jump off the rock. “He raped two young girls.”
“I know what he did,” Dominic said calmly. “But I murdered him in cold blood.”
“And Blake kicked you out for protecting Arielle and Charlotte?”
“He did what he had to do to keep the town in order. In case you haven’t noticed, Mike, people here lump everyone in the same category. My brother and I are no different in their eyes. We’re sexual deviants, except he liked young girls whereas I prefer men. You’ve seen the way they look at me.”
Michael nodded, sat with his head hanging above his joined hands. “That’s why Blake stepped down. Because you left and he felt guilty.”
“No. He stepped down because he no longer understood his own people. With Paul dead, they did the only thing they could to feel vindicated. They started calling for my blood, as if I was to blame for what happened to those girls.
“John Meacham led their cause, saying it was my influence on Paul that made him act out. He didn’t want to be like me, so he went after those girls to prove something. He couldn’t control himself. I was the one who’d been bringing shame to our family for years. People around here eat that shit up. They think we’re slaves to our impulses, but it’s not true.
“Truth is, Mike, I wasn’t outcast from Gulch. I ran. When Blake suggested I leave for a while to cool off, I decided to go west instead. I was a stupid kid, impulsive and angry, just like you. Now I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore.”
An awkward moment of silence passed between them. Michael was surprised Dominic had stayed this long.
“What about William?” Michael said.
“What about him?”
“You never talk to him. He’s your own nephew.”
“He’s nothing to me. I stopped thinking of Paul as my brother a long time ago. And don’t you bring up that boy around me again.”
“But it wasn’t William’s fault. He’s just a kid. He deserves to have a family, despite what happened.”
“You don’t know anything about it, Mike.”
“Yeah, I do.” Michael stood up. “There’
s a reason you came back to Gulch. You missed the only family you’ve got. William and Arielle and Blake, and Reggie—”
Dominic sprang up with sudden force, almost too fast to see. He grabbed Michael’s sweatshirt, pulled him close, and whispered harshly in his face.
“I am not a part of your little family.”
Michael gripped Dominic’s arms and looked him in the eyes.
“Yes, you are.”
He threw his arms around Dominic in a sudden, forceful embrace. Dominic struggled, weakly at first, probably expecting Michael to release him immediately. He didn’t. Finally, Dominic pushed him away, not nearly as angry as before. Michael thought he heard the man sniffle.
“What are you doing, Mike? Why are you here?”
“I want to make things right. For my mother. For my brothers and sisters. For Arielle.”
Dominic backed away a step, but only one. Michael tried to sense his emotional state, but Dominic was blocking him.
He waited. When Dominic spoke, his voice was low and measured, untainted by his usual snide arrogance.
“I’ll fight for you, Mike”—he glanced down at the pistol in Michael’s hand—“but not if this is how you do things. Look your enemy in the eye before you shoot him. Do it right.”
Michael nodded and let the pistol slip from his hand. Dominic studied it for a moment, then looked back up at Michael.
“I’ll be by your side when the shit finally hits the fan,” Dominic said. “I promise you that.”
Nodding, Michael watched Dominic turn away to resume his midnight jog. He stood that way, alone and silent and still, looking out over the rooftops of Gulch beneath constellations of stars that suddenly meant nothing to him. They were all the way up there, and he was down here, and that was just fine with him.
Something Dominic had said came back to him, accompanied by a sudden, staggering revelation
Now I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore.
Blake’s riddle, about his anger being a mirror that could only be shattered by one thing—Michael finally understood what it meant. It wasn’t anger that made his ability work; the anger just blocked it up, made it dangerous to himself and anyone around him. Only one thing would allow him to use it safely, and it was the total opposite of anger and hatred and rage.
It was love.
Chapter 14
Light spilled into the Cold War Café, mottled by the streaks of soap sliding down the windows.
Arielle had hired a group of boys, including William and Aidan, to wash them down. They spent most of their time giggling and slinging foam at each other, with an occasional thump as every now and then Aidan would push William up against the glass. Arielle kept scolding them from across the street. She and another woman were cleaning out one of the empty buildings in hopes of enticing someone to start a business there. The street bustled with people walking by and riding bicycles, carrying deliveries and mail. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Eli and Ian sat across from each other in a booth inside the café, holding playing cards and occasionally slapping some down.
“Raid,” Eli said, tossing two cards face up onto the table.
“Wrath,” Ian said, peeling a card off the top of his deck and tossing it at Eli.
“So you think things’ll calm down?” Eli said.
“What do you mean?”
Eli shrugged. “Blake still isn’t showing up at any of the town meetings. It’s obvious he and your father aren’t talking.”
“I don’t know,” Ian said. “But I could use a hunting trip. I need a vacation.”
“Who doesn’t? Look at Peter. Hell, he’s on vacation right now. Hasn’t done an hour of honest work in two weeks. I’ve never seen him this happy.”
They glanced over at a table against the wall where Peter sat across from Rocio, both of them drinking tea from ceramic mugs and laughing. Peter reached over and stroked Rocio’s face, then leaned over the table so he could kiss her lips.
“That sentimental prick,” Ian said.
Eli chuckled. “Speak for yourself. How’s Fran?”
“Fine. She’s walking now.” Ian threw down four cards. “Raid, fat ass.”
“Son of a bitch,” Eli peeled two cards off his deck and tossed them over. “Our boy’s walking up as we speak.”
Ian tilted out of the booth to look through the windows. He saw nothing but the boys playing outside, a dozen streaks on the glass where they had done a poor job of wiping away soap.
A moment later, Michael came into view, walking with his usual long strides up the sidewalk, holding something large and fluffy down by his side. He waved at Arielle, who greeted him with a wide smile, before entering the café, a dead bird swinging from one hand.
He winked at Peter and Rocio. She smiled back and waved with a delicate waggling of her fingers. Peter frowned at her.
“You never smile at me like that.”
“Relax.” She winked. “Cutie.”
Michael slapped the dead bird onto the playing cards and grinned down at Eli and Ian.
“Lunch,” he said.
Eli slipped out of the booth. “About damn time. I’ve been raiding this bitch all morning. Makes a man hungry.”
Gathering the cards into a sloppy pile, Ian frowned up at Michael.
“Grouse? Can’t we eat something good for a change? Like venison?”
Michael lifted the dead bird and moved its beak to make it look like it was talking.
“Why don’t you like me, Ian?” he said in a cartoonish voice. “Is it ’cause the other boys can shoot me from twenty yards away and you can’t?”
Eli burst into laughter. Ian gave a sinister grin.
“Very funny.”
The boys dragged Peter out of his booth. Peter walked backward the whole way to the front door, grinning at Rocio and making a beating heart gesture inside his shirt. Once outside, the boys laughed at him as they started up their motorcycles.
Nothing could spoil this day.
They invited Arielle, Rocio, Fran, and Sally over to the house for lunch.
Michael and Eli defeathered the grouse and cooked it out back on a handmade grill. They fried potatoes and served hard apple cider with the meal. Afterward, they all sat around the living room, sharing stories and laughing at Eli. He had an amusing way of imitating voices and using flamboyant gestures that made his stories funnier than anyone else’s.
Fran was still in pain from her wound and had disobeyed Midas Ford’s orders by coming to this get-together. She sat next to Ian on the couch, and he kept glancing over at her to make sure she felt okay. At one point, he put his hand on her freckled arm and left it there, and she looked at him and smiled.
Arielle sat with Michael on the worn love seat by the window. Michael stretched out his long legs, booted feet resting on the edge of the table. Arielle curled up next to him, holding a steaming mug of cider and wearing a thick sweatshirt, jeans, and a pair of slippers. They had built a fire in the hearth, and the room was hot like a summer evening, despite the frigid cold outside.
When they were finished eating and lounging, Michael offered to walk Arielle home. She accepted with a smile, and they held hands as they strolled down Silo Street to the pink house at the very end. When they got to the front door, Michael turned Arielle around to face him.
“What is it?” she said.
He kissed her. She accepted the gesture warmly, and soon they were embracing each other and kissing as if they’d been doing it for years.
“I want you to know something,” Michael told her, pulling back.
Her eyes remained closed. “What is it?”
“I love you.”
Arielle’s eyes flashed open, two circles of blue. Immediately, her cheeks flushed with a color like dried rose petals.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Really, really sure? I mean, that’s pretty serious. You’re leaving to go to the NDR.”
He shook his
head and drew her in for another kiss. She accepted it, though this time with some hesitation. Her eyes remained wide open.
“I’ll stay here,” Michael said, “or we’ll both go east. I don’t care. Either way, I know how to keep you safe now.”
She nodded. Her body loosened within the circle of his arms. She fell forward against him, face resting on his chest. He breathed in the scent of her hair.
“I love you, too,” she said. “We can go to the NDR if you want.”
Michael held her. This moment could last for the rest of his life, and he would be fine with it.
Arielle spoke again, this time in a drowsy voice, like she was considering going to sleep in his arms.
“What did you mean earlier?”
“Huh?”
“When you said you know how to keep me safe now.” She pulled back and studied him. “What did you mean by that?”
Michael smiled a little, visualizing the spider-thin thread dancing behind her forehead.
“Remember that four-leaf clover pendant you gave me before our trip?”
She nodded, clearly mystified.
“Well”—he narrowed his eyes—“your front yard is full of four-leaf clovers, each one as tall as me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Michael watched her, smiling slightly. After giving him a wary glance—she almost looked annoyed at having to put up with his weird sense of humor—she looked out at the front yard and was so startled that she fell back against the front door.
“Oh my God,” she said, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. “You learned how to use it.”
Michael studied his own work. He let his eyes blur as he gave himself to the illusion. He’d never seen such tall and proud-looking clovers, each one almost six feet tall, its face turned up toward the sun. He couldn’t deny the pleasure he took in seeing Arielle so impressed.
“Unbelievable,” she whispered.
Chapter 15
The Matinee stood in its silent, brooding way, all of the windows dark except for one on the second floor, above the entrance on the empty street. The purpling sky made the light even more vibrant against the darkness of the Hollows.
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