Tear You Apart

by Sarah Cross

  Layla put her hand on top of Freddie’s and he stopped talking. “We’ll do whatever you need. We’re here for you, okay? And we’re not giving up. No one’s giving up on Henley.”

  “Thanks,” Viv said. “I don’t—I don’t really know what I need right now. If you look, I should go look, too.…”

  “No, you should stay here,” Blue said. He was in the kitchen, unpacking large quantities of baked goods from a bunch of paper bags stamped with the Twin Roses Café logo. There was a swipe of frosting on his arm, just above his spiked leather bracelet. “If your stepmom thinks you’re dead, you should let her keep thinking that. Don’t venture into the open yet.”

  Viv sighed. “So just … stay here. Stay useless.”

  “Stay alive,” Jewel said, as a ruby rolled off her tongue. “Freddie can go look for Henley. Freddie and Scruffy.”

  “His name is Lancelot,” Freddie said.

  “Of course it is.”

  Freddie and Layla stayed long enough to eat some of the pastries, and to tell Viv things like It will be okay and I’m sure Henley’s alive, he’s strong, he had something to fight for. Viv felt hopeful while they were saying it—their Honor-bound earnestness made it hard not to feel that way. But once the sunny optimism contingent had gone, Viv was left with her pessimistic self, Blue and Jewel, who were more cynical, and Mira, who seemed so desperate to say the right thing that she wasn’t saying anything at all.

  “What do you guys think?” Viv asked. “Do you think it’s possible he’s just … hurt? Or can no one find him because—” She swallowed. “Because he was buried?”

  “He could have a head injury,” Jewel said slowly. “And not know where he is. He could be wandering somewhere. I don’t think we can just … rule out something like that.”

  Blue was sitting next to Mira now. He had his arm around her, and she was leaning into him, her legs pulled up on the couch. It reminded Viv of the last time Mira had been in trouble—when they weren’t sure whether she was asleep or dead. Viv had tucked herself into Henley’s arms and he’d held her as they waited to learn the truth. Viv closed her eyes, remembering how good it had felt to turn to him. For so long, she’d felt like she had no one to turn to, but she’d had Henley—she’d had him there all that time. She fought not to let any more tears fall, but she didn’t have the power to stop them.

  “Don’t lose hope,” Jewel said softly. “If your positions were reversed, Henley wouldn’t give up on you.”

  “I wish he’d given up on me a long time ago.”

  “You don’t,” Jewel said. “You wish this hadn’t happened. We all wish that. But no matter where Henley is, you’re alive right now because of him. Don’t wish yourself dead. He didn’t.”

  Viv bent forward in her chair and let the tears flood her until she was choking and shaking. Jewel was stroking her hair and Mira was squeezing her hand. She could hear Blue on the phone with Freddie, and then with Jack. When he hung up, the condo was silent except for Viv’s gasps. She stopped herself long enough to say, “Did they find him?”

  “Not yet. They haven’t found anything.”

  * * *

  There was no news. No word from Henley.

  Nothing all day.

  By evening Viv was curled up on Jewel’s couch, sinking deeper into depression.

  She’d called Jack Tran six times. She’d called Freddie and Layla so many times she was starting to feel guilty because she could tell they felt bad saying, No, we haven’t found him, we’re so sorry.…

  And then it was too dark to search.

  Blue and Mira were spending the night. They gave Viv the couch and spread out on the floor, but offered to stay up with her if she couldn’t sleep. Eventually Jewel went to bed. She told Viv to try to do the same—you haven’t slept in two days. But Viv didn’t want to sleep. She was used to nightmares, but they’d just been about her own death. If she dreamed about Henley’s death … No. She couldn’t handle that.

  She curled up on the couch in the dark and left the TV on mute; let the light from the screen wash over her and keep her awake. She’d told Mira and Blue they could sleep, but she could hear them whispering together, worried about her. At some point Viv passed out—the phone in her lap, her head resting crookedly on the arm of the couch.

  She woke to the sound of a newspaper hitting the door—and ran outside before she knew what she had heard, as if she might find Henley waiting there. The sky was dim, the air was wet. Birds flocked to her side, but Henley was still missing. It was a new day, but nothing had changed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  EVERY DAY WENT LIKE THIS:

  Hey, Jack, I thought maybe by now you might have—

  Sorry, Viv, wish I had better news. We just have to keep hoping, you know?

  You’ll call me if—

  Yeah, of course. Of course I will.

  And her hope deflated. Her heart sank. Every day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  TEN DAYS OF SITTING BY THE PHONE, desperate for news. Ten days of night sweats, of dreams that were snatched away the moment she woke, leaving only the vague impression that Henley had been there for a little while.

  It was the longest she had ever gone without seeing him.

  Viv slept on Jewel’s couch, barely showered, and didn’t leave the condo.

  No one had seen Henley or the old Huntsman. Viv didn’t know what to think. If the old Huntsman was alive, he might have left town, or he might be living in a cabin in the woods; it wasn’t like people had really seen him around before.

  But if Henley was alive, he would have contacted her. He would have met up with Jack, or gone home to his parents.

  There would be some sign of him. He wouldn’t just disappear.

  On the eleventh day, Viv decided that she needed to reach out to Jasper. If she had been poisoned and was lying in her glass coffin, fate would have arranged for him to come to her. So if he was still trapped in the underworld, and no one he talked to at the club had seen her, he probably thought the Huntsman had killed her, as he’d feared. It wasn’t fair to let him believe that.

  She would go to the underworld, just for the night. She told Jewel what she wanted to do.

  “How are you going to get in? The invitations Jasper gave us turned to dust.”

  “I’ll have to get another one. Find someone who’s been invited and beg, buy, or steal it from them.”

  Viv tried to remember who she had seen at the club. Guests came to the underworld from all over the world, but there had to be someone she knew who was a regular. Still, her mind was blanking. Every night except the first, she’d been focused on Jasper and the underworld itself, not the other Cursed on the dance floor.

  “Do you think Rafe knows anybody who has one?” she asked Jewel.

  “Maybe. He does throw a lot of parties … and he knows a lot of people. I’ll call him and find out. You should call Blue. They give out so many perks at that hotel … they might have someone who can get invitations for guests.”

  Blue was a bust—the Dream did not have an underworld connection. But Rafe said he could definitely get his hands on some, and he wouldn’t even ask for compensation, out of respect for Viv’s tragedy.

  “Definitely? He guaranteed it?” Viv asked.

  Jewel shrugged. “Keep in mind this is Rafe—the guy who also guarantees that he can get any girl he meets to sleep with him. But I think there’s a good chance he’ll come through.”

  Viv nodded, trying to prepare herself to leave the couch and enter the underworld. She hadn’t been out in over a week. She felt safe at Jewel’s, sort of, but she was afraid to set foot outside the door. “Do you think he can get two? I don’t want to go by myself.”

  “He acted like he could get a whole handful. I’ll try to remind him to make good on that. Okay, so … you need something to wear. I’d offer to take you shopping, but it’s probably best if no one sees you. Luxe and I can pick something out. She’s been complaining that we haven’t spent enough time t
ogether, anyway.”

  “I doubt she’ll want to spend the day shopping for me.”

  “No, she loves giving her opinion. And casing the store, figuring out what she’d shoplift. Not that she does that anymore. You’ll be okay on your own?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  Viv took a long, hot shower, then wrapped herself in one of Jewel’s robes and spent half an hour teasing a week’s worth of tangles from her hair. She poked around the kitchen in an aimless way before finally making coffee and eating some yogurt and an orange that she hoped she could keep down. She was about to call Jewel and ask how things were going when there was a knock at the door. Her heart jumped, even though the knock was too soft to be Henley’s.

  Luxe was by herself, holding a black bag overflowing with white tissue paper.

  “Where’s Jewel?” Viv asked.

  “Busy. With band stuff.” Luxe thrust the bag at her. “Here. We bought this for you. I think it’ll fit. It was hard finding something slutty in the children’s department.”

  Viv rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

  She reached into the bag and pulled out a strapless black dress with a lace-up back. It wasn’t really her style, but maybe it was the only dress Jewel and Luxe could agree on. She looked for the tags to see what she owed Jewel, but there weren’t any. “Did you steal this?”

  “Don’t act suspicious when someone gives you a present. It’s rude.”

  “You better not have stolen this,” Viv said, shedding her robe and stepping into the dress. Luxe was watching her in a too-intent, creepy way. Viv angled her body so there was less to see. Luxe had never ogled her before, so this was weird. She’d even announced once that Viv wasn’t her type—then gone on to list all the things that were wrong with Viv’s body.

  Whatever, it’s not like she doesn’t have the same parts.

  Viv did her best to cinch the laces by herself, but it was hard to do, especially since the dress was designed for someone who had a little more up top. “Luxe—can you help me tighten these so the dress doesn’t fall off?”

  “I guess,” Luxe said. “Or you could try eating lard and just grow some boobs.”

  “Lard? Is that what bears put in their porridge? I thought they were supposed to eat salmon,” Viv said, since Luxe had been complaining about that recently.

  “The three bears eat porridge, dummy.”

  Viv sighed. Of course she wouldn’t remember.

  Luxe yanked the laces with surprising force and skill, like maybe she’d done this for Jewel before.

  “Okay, I’d like to breathe still,” Viv said. “You’re pulling it too tight.”

  “Do you want to show the whole world the boobs you don’t have? I don’t think so.” Luxe pulled the laces tighter, and Viv gasped—she felt like her lungs had sealed shut. She went to pull away, and stars popped in front of her eyes. Her thoughts slipped; her chest fought to expand.

  “—tight—”

  “Stop complaining,” Luxe said viciously.

  Another jerk of the laces. Viv felt like her lungs were being tied closed. She opened her mouth to breathe—and darkness swept in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  WHEN VIV OPENED HER EYES, she was lying on her side, staring at a spill of gems on the floor in front of her. Her mind was muddy with confusion and her back was cold—someone was peeling the dress off her body. She heard the soft sound of more gems falling, along with a rush of breath.

  “God!” Jewel said. “Why did you let her in? And how badly did you want this dress, to let her put it on you? Are you sick in the head?”

  “What?” Viv said. “You’re the one dating a psychopath.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Luxe brought me this dress. She laced me up. And when I told her it was too tight—”

  Jewel shook her fist in front of Viv’s face—a tangle of black laces swung from her fingers. “Viv—why would you let someone lace you up? The stay laces in the fairy tale?”

  Viv’s cheeks grew hot. She hadn’t thought of it, but obviously she knew that the evil queen disguises herself as an old woman and tempts Snow White with stay laces for her corset—then laces her up so tightly that she falls into a swoon.

  “I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t let Regina or some sketchy old lady in here. It was Luxe. She brought me a dress, like you guys were supposed to. Why don’t you ask her what the hell she was doing?”

  “Luxe was with me all day. Shopping for you. Buying this.” Jewel lifted a dress out of a shopping bag. It had a strapless white top and a knee-length black skirt with a red-ribbon belt at the waist. “She didn’t come back here.”

  “But I saw Luxe. It was her.”

  “I’m telling you, it wasn’t. Maybe it looked like her, but … Viv, just how much witchcraft can Regina do? Can she change her appearance?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know she could do any witchcraft. I thought her witch friends were just teaching her how to cook a human heart, and … brew poison, maybe. I didn’t know they were teaching her to use magic.”

  “Well, she definitely knows you’re here. She’s still trying to kill you. And apparently she can disguise herself as my girlfriend, which I am really not okay with.”

  Viv sighed—and as her breath slipped out she recalled the feeling of her lungs being crushed by the tightening stay laces. Regina would try again, and her next attempt might be fatal.

  What kept her here? Henley was dead because of her. She could hardly remember a world without him, and that’s all Beau Rivage would be now: the city where Henley was murdered. Every place she went would remind her of him and would be like a fresh accusation. If she’d let him go sooner, if she’d trusted him instead of putting them through all this misery …

  He’d died so that she could live. And if she stayed here Regina would kill her. Jasper had promised he could keep Regina out of the underworld. Maybe he could, maybe he couldn’t—but she had a better chance to survive there than she did here.

  “I think I need to go to the underworld for a while. Not just tonight.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “If Regina poisons me, I’ll either die or end up in the underworld, anyway.”

  Jewel sighed. “I just don’t want you to regret—”

  “I regret everything,” Viv said savagely. Tears burned in her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks when she blinked, leaving hot streaks in their wake. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you. I just—regretting staying with Jasper? That’s the last thing I’m worried about. I don’t even care about regretting that.”

  “Okay,” Jewel said softly. “Okay.” Her eyes said I don’t agree with you, but I don’t want to fight with you. That was all Viv could ask for, really.

  They met Rafe at his house. Blue, Mira, Freddie, and even Layla—who had never been to Rafe’s house before—were just getting out of Freddie’s car when Viv arrived with Jewel. She’d told them Viv was going to the underworld indefinitely, and they should meet here if they wanted to see her off. Viv had a feeling Jewel hoped they could talk her out of her decision, but she wasn’t going to be swayed.

  It was both too dangerous and too painful to stay in Beau Rivage. Just being at Rafe’s house reminded Viv of the last time she’d been there with Henley. At a party. It wasn’t even a good memory. She’d been drunk and flirting hard with someone she couldn’t even remember now—and Henley had thrown an antique chair through a window, and Rafe had kicked them both out. She remembered being so pissed, stumbling down the driveway on her red espadrilles with the stacked heels … and Henley having to catch her and then yelling something like, could she at least stay sober so she could drive her own ass home? Then he took her keys, and they argued the whole way to her house, and all she wanted that night was for him to leave her alone.

  Tonight, Rafe had left the gate to his enchanted rose garden open, and that was where they found him, drinking a Red Bull and watching so
mething on his phone. He was a big guy with shaggy, dark gold hair and an affinity for Hawaiian shirts. He lived alone in his mansion, which looked like a museum that had been co-opted by a fraternity: ornate furniture, priceless paintings, kegs, random girls’ thongs hidden everywhere like Easter eggs.

  Rafe gave Viv an awkward hug. Weirdly tentative, the way a cat person pets a dog—like he was trying not to grope her. She appreciated the gesture. With Rafe, you had to be impressed by the little things.

  “Sucks about Henley,” he said. “That guy was always kind of a jerk-off, but he died doing a good thing.”

  “Way to be sensitive, Wilder.” A ruby rolled down Jewel’s lip.

  “I’m expressing my condolences. And …” He took five black-and-silver invitations from the pocket of his shorts, fanned them out like a poker hand. “I came through for you. You can bring the whole gang. Well, except for Layla. I promised the guy who gave me these she’d pay him back with a lap dance.”

  “You repulsive piece of—” Layla started.

  Freddie drew his sword and pointed it at Rafe. The tip of the blade hovered about an inch from his nose. “Do not speak to her that way.”

  “Whoa, simmer down, Knight.” Rafe took a step back. “We’re all friends here.”

  Either Rafe hadn’t noticed that Freddie was now equipped with a sword all the time, or he was so used to Freddie’s polite requests that it never occurred to him to expect anything else. Although, to be fair, none of them had expected that. Certainly not Layla.

  “Apologize,” Freddie said.

  Rafe cleared his throat. “All right. Sorry. It was a joke. No one has to gyrate if they don’t want to. Satisfied?”

  Freddie sheathed his sword but still looked like he was waiting for Rafe to slip up.

  Rafe took a moment to recover—they were all a little dazed—then said, “There’s a theme. Some kind of angel thing. I bet there’ll be a million chicks wearing underwear and wings.… Too bad I’m banned or I’d take one of these invites for myself.”