Shadeland (The Ethereal Crossings, 1)

by D.L. Miles

  Chapter 23

  Jared kept his head rested on the passenger side window as I drove, the air between us uncomfortable only in my mind. Why did I always have to feel uncomfortable around him? He looked tired and I told him he should rest, but he insisted on getting his car first. I wasn’t looking forward to what he might do when we arrived at Yamuna’s. She had just made a deal with his cousin and tried to make one with me; Jared was furious, though I thought it was more because of Violet.

  Wanting to talk with him, I found the only common thread we had; the creature.

  “Do you really think the creature from Shadeland is committing the murders?” I asked, shifting my hands on the wheel. I felt like I was the only one having doubts, besides Dr. Wineman that was. Luke seemed sure, so did Jared and Violet…was I the only one feeling this way?

  “What else would it be?” Jared said, rolling down his window. The fresh breeze blew his hair back and he closed his eyes, enjoying it. “The doc said it wasn’t it, so it must be it.”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?” Was that all we were going on? Thinking back, I guessed it was true. I was taking Jared’s word for it, not having anything else of my own to go on. But now I did have something to go on; I had all the puzzle pieces, I just needed to figure out how they came together.

  “Those Shadeland purebloods all protect each other,” Jared told me, “so if the doctor says this thing didn’t do it, he only wants to protect it.” He rubbed his forehead, eyes still shut.

  “Well…while we were getting the other ingredients some things happened…” I started, beginning to feel stupid again for thinking something was a clue. He would most likely scoff at me, just like he had the Agate. But then again, look how that had turned out.

  “What sort of things?”

  “They were all pregnant,” I blurted, forgetting that you should never lead with the best point in an argument, “all of the five victims were in the early stages of pregnancy.”

  “Coincidence,” he said. I saw that coming before I even considered telling anyone. I furrowed my brow and tightened my hands over the leather interior, trying to think of something to prove my point but there was nothing. Maybe that was just it though, maybe the fact that they were pregnant really was just a coincidence, and the creature was just killing for the sake of killing. Maybe I should just look at the obvious and stop overanalyzing. My head was starting to hurt from trying to figure it out.

  “Do you want to talk it out?” Jared asked with a sigh as he watched me. “You look like you’re about to have an aneurism.”

  “Talk it out how?” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, wondering what his angle was.

  “Well, let’s figure out what they all had in common,” he suggested and held out a hand to count on. He was suddenly being helpful and…nice?

  “We can’t though,” I said, “we don’t know anything about the latest victim.”

  “Who was the latest victim?”

  “I don’t know, it was a woman that lives on Eastport.” Or lived, I should have said.

  “That’s not too far from here, is it?” he asked and I shook my head. It was actually only a few blocks away. “Then let’s check it out.”

  “Why?” I asked before I could stop myself. Jared was sure that it was the Shadeland creature doing the killings, so why look into the latest victim? Why was he so willing to indulge in my curiosity now?

  “Because I know you aren’t going to leave it alone,” he said, “you’ll keep thinking about it until you finally do something stupid like break into the crime scene.” Well…he had me there.

  I was about to debate him but he was right. I had done it before, and I would most likely do it again. I signalled right and turned down a side street, heading in the direction of Eastport.

  Jared instructed me to just pull up in front of the house, to not bother parking down the block or around the corner as I had the first time. I surveyed the neighbourhood and there was nobody around, nobody daring to go outside after what had happened. I didn’t blame them; murder was something that never happened here. I stopped the car and turned to him.

  “How do we get in?” I asked, looking around for any police but finding none. There wasn’t even one posted at the door to keep people out, just more tape.

  “Well I was going to walk,” he said, “did you have any other ideas?” His eyes rolled and I looked away, feeling as stupid as I could possibly get. As my line of vision went out the window I saw a woman across the street quickly pull her curtains closed.

  “Someone’s noticed us,” I said, watching as the same woman peeked through the blinds again.

  “So?” he said, opened his door, “What’s she going to do? Even if she calls the cops it’ll be at least ten minutes before they get here.”

  “But what if she takes my plates down?” I was only one computer check away from being discovered. And I knew if we were caught I would be the only one in trouble. Well, me and Luke anyway.

  “Relax,” Jared said with a roll of his eyes, “and just look at what you want so we can leave. I’ll give you about twenty minutes before anyone comes inside to question us.” We walked to the front door and Jared cut the tape connecting it to the frame, not a care in the world. Stepping inside, I had expected to see something similar to Alice’s murder scene, but it was normal. Nothing out of place, no blood, nothing.

  “All right,” I said, taking in the hallway. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, I was hoping for something to jump out and say “Over here! It wasn’t the Shadeland ancient, it was this guy!” But there was nothing incriminating past the doorway; nothing was screaming at me that we were wrong.

  Shoes lined the wall on the side, three pairs of women’s shoes and two pairs of men’s boots. Past those was a decorative table, topped with a flower vase; stargazer lilies, I noted they were fake. Jared flipped through some mail that was there before tossing them back on the table.

  The walls were beige but still felt warm, like a home. On them sat portraits of the family, birthday parties, Christmases and everything in between. I stopped to look at one photograph hanging at eye level of the woman I had seen in the body bag. She stood with her husband, both holding onto their son who could only be about three. They were smiling and I wondered how recent it was; it looked like you could make out a baby bump under her clothes.

  I stood and stared at the photograph, remembering the smell of the morgue and the look on the man’s face as he stood on his porch when I drove by earlier. He hadn’t just lost his wife; he had also lost another child. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would be like.

  “C’mon,” Jared said, poking his head into the hallway from another room, “this is probably where she was killed.” He disappeared into the room and I began to follow him. As I passed the staircase I noticed a pattern in the carpeting.

  Through all the footprints, I could make out what looked like drag marks. I brushed a small piece of the carpet back and forth, to see what it looked like facing both directions and found that the drag marks came down the stairs. Rather than find Jared I began walking up the stairs, following the supposed drag marks to the second floor. There was no way the police could have missed this and I wanted to know what they thought could cause it. I certainly had no idea.

  It was clearer upstairs where the marks originated from. I walked beside them down the hallway as they jutted to the right. When they turned into a room I glanced inside; it was a child’s room.

  Baby blue elephants danced across the wall, a line at hip height matched with the flowers. There was a bed and a crib against the far wall, both looking used and filled with stuffed animals and other children’s toys. On the floor were more toys, these ones hard, not meant for sleeping and between them was a small pathway leading to the window. The drag marks led between them, leading me to believe that either the parents opened and closed that window, or something had le
t itself inside.

  Carefully, I stepped over the fire truck and observed the pane. The white lock was fastened from the inside. Ignoring my immediate feeling to not touch anything I unlocked it and pushed it up. Poking my head outside I couldn’t see anything past the large oak tree that sat on the front lawn. If someone did come in through this window, nobody on the street would’ve seen them. As I leaned to come inside I noticed something in the tree.

  A few feet away, perched on a branch was a window screen, tossed aside, possibly blown off by a storm. I looked at the window sill and corrected myself, ripped out by someone and thrown out of the way was more likely. Scratches tore across all sides of the window, primarily on the sides. Touching my temples, I could feel a headache growing, the world around me starting to spin just slightly.

  “Who are you?” A voice said behind me. I jumped up, not recognizing it as Jared and smacked my head on the window.

  “Ah!” I called out, and whipped around the see a man standing in the doorway, the husband. Holding the back of my head we stared at each other, neither of us knowing what to do.

  He looked tired, really tired. The wrinkles around his eyes matched that of the man who tried to steal Charlie’s diary and the man I had seen with the news reporter Cindy. A light bulb went off in my brain; they were the same man! That was why he had looked so familiar the second time; I had seen him at the café. But the man standing before me wasn’t him. This man was older, much more…desperate.

  “Tell me who you are,” the man in front of me demanded when I didn’t answer. I was still trying to connect the pieces of why the man with Cindy would try and steal Charlie’s diary. The only conclusion I could come to was that he was a reporter and did it for a story, a story on the killings. But even that didn’t make much sense.

  “Uh,” I said, looking around the room to try and think of something, “is this window always locked?” He looked bewildered and hugged an overnight bag to his chest.

  “We usually keep it unlocked,” he smiled to himself, empty eyes staring at the floor, “it would always get hot during the summer so we would open and close it constantly.”

  “I see,” I said, pondering. Suddenly he snapped out of his trance and faced me when Jared appeared behind him.

  “Mr. Shoemaker,” he said, confident, “what are you doing here?” The man stepped inside the room, surprised.

  “I was just asking the same thing,” Mr. Shoemaker said, “who are you two?” Jared reached inside his jacket and pulled out an ID, flashing it at the man.

  “We’re with the FBI,” he said, “we’re just seeing the area for ourselves before heading over to the police station. And you shouldn’t be here.”

  I scoffed at the idea of either Jared or I being with the FBI. I wasn’t nearly old enough to look the part, and neither of us wore a suit, or even looked remotely professional. But the man seemed to believe us, probably too distraught to care. Mr. Shoemaker held the bag tighter to his chest.

  “I just…I just wanted to get some things for my son,” he glanced around the room, “he can’t sleep without his Ellie…” I looked around the room until I found an elephant lying in the crib. I walked over and picked it out, handing it to the heartbroken man. As he took the toy from me I could see the tears forming in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, knowing what he was thinking. His son would never know his mother; much like my younger brother Joshua would never know his. He looked down into the eyes of the elephant, a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “You know he named this after his mother,” he told us, “he said he wanted to name it after her so I said we should name her Ellie. He’s only two…” His thumb stroked the ear of the elephant until finally he blinked away his tears. “I should get back, I’m sorry for disturbing the…scene.” He stuffed the toy into the bag and turned to leave.

  “I’ll escort you to your car,” Jared said and I couldn’t tell if it was because he felt sorry for the man or he wanted to keep up the FBI persona. I guessed it was the latter.

  “Wait,” I called, reaching a hand out to stop them, “can I ask you a question?” The man nodded slowly, careful to not look directly at anything in the room. “Did you hear anything last night coming from this room? Any unusual noises?” It was a long shot, but you never knew.

  Mr. Shoemaker thought for a moment before shaking his head and saying, “No, nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Okay,” I said, “thank you.” They turned to leave and Jared shot me a look of mixed confusion and annoyance. Suddenly Mr. Shoemaker stopped and faced me.

  “Although…” he started, “I did hear something but it sounded far away... sort of.”

  “What was it?” Jared asked, now interested.

  “When Eleanor got up to check on Pierce and get her music player from downstairs…I could have sworn I had heard some kind of…clicking coming from the roof.” His eyes met mine with a shrug. “I just thought it was the house but I had never heard it before. I dismissed it because it was only for a moment.”

  “What kind of clicking?” Jared prodded, trying to learn more. Mr. Shoemaker was at a loss for words when I chimed in, already knowing the answer before asking him the question.

  “Like fingernails on a hard surface?” I said to him and tapped my nails on the windowsill, imitating the familiar sound.

  “Yes,” he assured me, “exactly like that!” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he flipped it out to read a text message. “I have to go…I’m sorry again…for breaking in.”

  “Come on,” Jared said patting him gently on the back, “I’ll walk down with you.” They left me alone in the room, making me wonder what kinds of questions Jared would have for me when he got back. I really wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to answer them, since I had no idea what I was thinking myself.

  I continued looking around the room, trying to find anything else that might help. What I had deduced thus far was that someone or something did break in through the window and for some reason dragged something down the stairs. But what could they have dragged? I didn’t have any idea.

  I headed back downstairs, first pausing at the staircase to make sure nobody was there. When I reached the room Jared had wanted me to follow him into I didn’t know what to look at - just like in the other rooms of the house and in the other crime scenes.

  Everything was perfectly fine; nothing out of place except for the window, which was broken from the inside. It almost appeared as if someone had jumped through it, which didn’t make any sense. Overall the room was rather inviting, the couches sitting across from each other with a coffee table in between, with a sleek black piano near the back window.

  A noise caught my attention as something shuffled inside the closet on the other side of the room. I glanced back into the hallway but Jared was still with Mr. Shoemaker, taking him to his car. Everything went quiet - too quiet. I realized that someone was hiding inside the closet. With silent steps I approached the doors, holding my breath as to not make a sound. Gingerly I touched the knobs and with one last prayer I whipped them open.

  “Mrowr!” A cat lunged at me and I yelped as it hit me in the chest, knocking me backwards to the ground. Or maybe I just jumped backwards, I couldn’t really tell. I felt a sharp pain as it scratched across my collarbone and dashed away behind me. I sat up as quickly as I could and looked around; the cat was gone, already out the broken window, no other threats in the area. I touched where it had clawed me and my fingers came back with blood. Perfect. It didn’t feel too deep at least…

  Not only did I do what all the people do in the movies, I got hurt while doing it. I stood and brushed myself off when a figure stepped out of the closet.

  “Are you all right?” came a hesitant voice from the darkness. I looked up as he moved further into the living room, a horrified expression on his face. He grabbed a few tissues from a nearby box and reached them out to me, as a person wou
ld when feeding an animal they don’t want to touch. When I didn’t take one right away he pushed it further towards me and said, “Here.”

  I took them from him and pressed them against the scratch. It stung quite a bit but it wasn’t anything serious; I was just glad it didn’t get my face.

  “Who are you?” I asked after giving a nod of thanks. It was one of the major questions that had been bothering me for the past day now. This man had been talking with Cindy in the diner, and then I caught him trying to steal Charlie’s diary and now he was here, standing in the latest victim’s closet. Or hiding, I should say. It wasn’t looking good for him, at least not by an outsider’s perspective.

  “I am not the murderer,” he said quickly, eyes wide with panic as his hands shot into the air to deny it.

  “I know that,” I said, for some reason I had never thought he would be the killer. “Were you the one who bought the Agate?” Another long shot, but I seemed to have good luck with long shots. My hunches led me to all the right, yet dangerous places. Somehow, his eyes grew wider.

  “They needed protection,” he said, “they were in danger... at least I thought they were…but it did no good.” He looked down, clasping at the zipper on his jacket. I heard footsteps behind me and against my better judgement I twisted my head to see Jared coming around the corner. When he saw I wasn’t alone he grabbed his gun and pointed it towards the man.

  “Jared, no!” I yelled, throwing my own hands in the air. “It’s okay, he won’t hurt us.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked, pivoting around the couch to get a clear shot of the man. I had a feeling I knew who he was, and how he was connected to the deaths. What I didn’t know was why.

  “Were you Heather’s boyfriend?” I asked him, careful to keep my voice soft. He sniffled and nodded his head.

  “Yes,” he told me, “she was my true love. My name is Bayani Navarro.” One of my eyebrows rose while Jared lowered his gun, content with not being in immediate danger. I knew he was ready to draw it at any sudden movement though.

  “Navarro as in Rosa Navarro?” I thought aloud. Bayani nodded again. He was the “B” in the photograph I had taken from Charlie’s apartment; he had to be.

  “What are you—” I began but was cut off by another voice.

  “Hands where I can see ‘em,” a man said and I moved to see Officer Harley pointing a gun at me. When he saw who I was he sighed and rolled his eyes, holstering his gun. “You again?”

  “Me?” I said, pointing at myself. He didn’t seem to think I was much of a threat since he had put away his weapon, but would Jared and Bayani seem dangerous? Especially Jared?

  “We’re with the FBI—” Jared said but Harley cut him off.

  “Don’t bother, boy,” he said, and Jared seemed taken aback, pausing as he reached into his jacket for what I assumed was the fake ID. “I know who you two are.” He clicked the radio on his shoulder and spoke into it. “False alarm, Swanson. Just a couple of kids looking to see a dead body. I’ll take care of it.” He lied for us? That was…unexpected.

  “Thank you,” I said, unsure of what else there was the say, “why did you do that?” He crossed his arms and stared me down.

  “I didn’t do that for you,” he told me, “I just don’t want to take another one of your statements.” Why was that such an issue? I thought I gave very accurate statements to him, both times. He eyed me and asked, “So what are you doing here?” I looked to Jared who gladly took over.

  “Looking for any clues to find the killer,” he told the officer, “we were in the neighbourhood and thought we’d pop in. What are you doing here?” He walked over to me and shoved me to the side, putting himself between me and Bayani.

  “Neighbour reported seeing some people coming inside, wondered what was going on.” His eyes drifted over all of us, counting. “If you’re going to break into a crime scene, maybe try taking a different route other than the front door?”

  “We’ll remember that for next time,” Jared mocked.

  “Why don’t you leave the work to the professionals?” Officer Harley must have known Jared was a bounty hunter and didn’t seem to like him much. Then again, we were breaking and entering.

  “I am a professional,” Jared smirked, “and nobody else seems to be doing a very good job.”

  “Oh yeah?” Officer Harley said, offended. “And what have you found so far that we haven’t?” It was Jared’s turn to remain silent. He could tell him that we thought it was a creature from Shadeland, but that would cause too much commotion.

  “Mr. Shoemaker had heard a clicking,” I suggested, still feeling as if it was a clue. “Right before his wife was killed.”

  “A clicking?” the officer said, familiarity in his voice.

  “Does that mean something to you?” Jared asked, picking up on the same thing I did.

  “Well between you, me and the lamppost” – he thrust his thumb towards Jared who scowled in return – “the lady across the street had heard a clicking too,” he rubbed at his newly grown beard, “she said she heard something on her roof making the noise at about midnight. We dismissed it though because of what else she claimed to have seen and considering the, ah, condition of her house.”

  “What else did she see?” I hoped he would tell us, and not say we weren’t allowed to know. He seemed to think it over.

  “She said she saw a bat,” he finally said, “she said when she looked out her window to see about the noise, she saw a giant bat fly overhead and land in the tree out front.”

  “A bat?” both Bayani and I said it at the same time, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Does that mean something to you?” Officer Harley pointed at us, accusation in his eyes. I didn’t know what it meant to Bayani, but it sent a chill up and down my spine while squeezing at my stomach.

  “No,” I lied, not wanting to tell the police what I knew, or what I thought I knew, at least. I looked to Heather’s boyfriend questioningly. “Bayani?”

  Sweat trickled down his forehead, his pupils contracted and the grip on his coat became far too tight. Panic and despair seemed to be the only emotions visible for Bayani.

  “It is not possible,” he said to himself, “it is not supposed to be this far north.” Jared didn’t seem as interested in what Bayani had to say as Officer Harley and I were. The officer prodded Bayani further but he didn’t say anything, or more likely, he couldn’t say anything. His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words but nothing came out.

  The fear in his eyes told me he knew exactly what was doing the killings. He probably knew right when Rosa died, but he denied it. That must have been why he was talking to Cindy, and why he had tried to steal Charlie’s diary. He stood in front of the closet, shaking his head, still in denial.

  “If you know who is committing these murders you have to tell us,” Officer Harley said, “please.” His tone was controlled, calm but it was clear in his face that he didn’t feel that way. He wanted to stop the killings just as much as I did. He wanted to know what was doing it too.

  “It can’t be,” Bayani mumbled, “it’s not supposed to be this far north.” He was pleading with us, begging us to tell him it wasn’t possible but we all knew it was. Well, except maybe Jared, who still wanted to kill the Shadeland ancient. Officer Harley continued asking Bayani questions, trying to get him to admit what he knew when I finally cut in.

  “Does it have to do with the pregnancies?” I asked and Bayani froze, no longer shaking his head. I was on a roll with guesses today, no point letting that go to waste. His brown eyes flicked to meet mine but quickly left, to view the window. “Is that why these women are being killed?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said and ran for the window. Both Jared and Officer Harley reacted in seconds, rushing after the man as he dove through the broken frame. The officer called for his partner and was out the door, ignoring me as he ran past. Jared had watched Bayani
escape through the window, not bothering to chase him down any further than the window.

  “You’re not going after him?” I questioned, coming up behind him.

  “Nah,” Jared said, “The cops’ll find him faster, and we have more important things to do anyway.”

  “But he knows who the killer is,” I said, “don’t you think we should find him?” We began walking to the front door, no longer concerned with finding more connections. I wanted to find Bayani, but Jared really didn’t want to.

  “We need to do that spell,” Jared said, “it’s the Shadeland demon, whether Bayani thinks so or not.”

  “But what if he’s right?” I pondered. What if whatever Bayani thought was killing these women was doing it, and we summoned the creature anyway? If things turned out the best they could we would kill an innocent Eidolon, if things turned out badly the creature would kill us instead. Neither option seemed very good.

  “You saw the smoke, right? More than once?” Jared shut the door behind him and checked the area. The police car was parked behind mine but neither Harley nor his partner were in sight, still chasing down Bayani somewhere behind the house.

  “Yes,” I agreed, remembering how cold it had been both times and rubbing the chills on my arms.

  “That’s the creature, as far as I can tell,” he shrugged and opened the passenger side door as I walked around. “It’s been confirmed by you at more than one murder scene. What more proof do you need?” He had a point. This thing was present at both Charlie’s and Heather’s death when nothing else was.

  “I suppose,” I said, still not completely sure. I looked behind me to see the same woman across the street shut her curtains again. She certainly was a nosy neighbour, but that had proved to be helpful, at least with information. She had heard the same clicking noise Mr. Shoemaker had. She had also seen what I thought was the same giant bat-like figure fly overhead and into the tree in front of the baby’s room. But why had she been dismissed so quickly by the police?

  I sat down in the driver’s seat. Maybe the bat-like creature was the same thing from Shadeland? I didn’t want to rule it out completely, but it still felt off. I had seen smoke, or smog or…something hanging over two bodies so maybe that was how it got inside the places. It travelled through the air in some kind of bat form and then morphed into the smoke to get past the cracks.

  But that didn’t explain the broken window at this house. It had been broken from the inside, like someone had jumped through it. Or flew through it, said a voice in my head. But that didn’t help me make sense of anything. If the creature could turn from bat into smoke, why fly through the window? Did something scare it? Throw it off guard? Plus Yamuna had said that it travelled through the Ethereal realm of Shadeland to get around. Maybe this latest death wasn’t even related to the other killings; she wasn’t as young as the others, or lived the same lifestyle. A throb ran between my temples trying to figure it out.

  “What broke the window?” I said under my breath, hand sitting atop the keys, ready to turn them.

  “Husband said it was broken when he came down,” Jared said, resting his head on his hand and his elbow on the window ledge. “Cops don’t know what broke it so they’re assuming it was the killer escaping.”

  “Huh?” I said and turned the keys, the engine sputtering to a start. “When did he find her?” I said, figuring he was the one who made the grisly discovery. I couldn’t imagine that happening, coming downstairs to find your wife dead, murdered in your own living room. Homes were supposed to make people feel safe, but I knew I wasn’t going to feel safe in my own for a long time. Especially when I was alone at night. I told myself I would feel better once everything was finished with; when the killer was caught and put behind bars or killed and Luke was no longer a suspect. A smart voice told me I was very wrong about that.

  “The victim went downstairs and a little while later the husband heard the window smashing open,” Jared explained, closing his eyes, “when he got downstairs he saw what he thought was a butterfly hovering over his dead wife. He didn’t see much else once he saw her.”

  “A butterfly?” I questioned, thinking back to Alice’s scene. “What colour was it?”

  “How should I know?” I pulled away from the curb, remembering it might be better that we were gone when Officer Harley came back. “He probably imagined it anyway. Too focused on the kid sitting over his mother’s body.” His son was there? I didn’t even know that. Perhaps that was how the window had broken; the child had cried out when seeing his mother get attacked and the killer had to leave before her husband arrived. I wanted to ask more questions, to find it out but Jared didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking anymore. So much for the considerate guy that had appeared twenty minutes ago.

  “I thought you might ask,” I said, knowing I would have. It would be strange if it was the same butterfly as before, but then again it could be coincidence. Yet…nothing has been a coincidence lately. Running into Bayani twice had been by chance, but he was involved. He even seemed to go as far as to talk with Cindy, who contacted who didn’t matter, maybe she knew something that we didn’t; she was a reporter after all.

  “Well I didn’t,” he said, his tone almost mocking, “I highly doubt the butterfly is the killer. It’s spring, there are going to be butterflies outside and they may come inside houses.” I grimaced, no argument to prove there may be more than meets the eye. He noticed my expression and matched it, “Do you have experience bounty hunting? Regular or Eidolon?”

  “No…” I said slowly.

  “And how much do I have?” He rubbed at his temples, a headache growing. I knew what that felt like, having my own in the works.

  “At least a year of Eidolon…”

  “So don’t you think it would be better to do what I say, rather than gallivanting off, chasing butterflies?” I knew he was being snippy because he was in pain and had just woken up from a Cockatrice bite, so maybe it was best I didn’t question him…

  I stayed silent, reassuring him that he knew I wasn’t going to fight anymore. I still felt bad about what had happened to him. We had gotten lucky that Dr. Wineman had known the cure, and that Violet was able to get it.

  I could see Jared glancing towards me for the rest of the ride to Yamuna’s house. I wanted to say something to him, anything, and I felt he wanted to say something to me too. But instead we rode without a word, neither one of us saying what we wanted to.