“It happened so fast,” I said, pulling the blanket tighter around me as I desperately tried to fight the darkness that felt as though it would suffocate me. “It’s like he changed overnight.” The thought made me choke.
Gigi placed her arm around my shoulders. “From the outside, yes, but we could not see his heart. There the transition was slower. There he had likely been changing for years, though it was the inn that made that change visible,” she said with muted grief.
“How … how could the inn or any place do that?”
At this she released my shoulders and went to the kettle. She poured more hot water into her mug that was mostly full.
“I don’t know,” she said, turning to face me. “I don’t understand how such darkness can exist in silence—waiting to attack whoever comes near it. I know only that that’s what the inn is and has been since long before you or Thomas were born.”
“How do you know that?”
She exhaled slowly. “That is a long, sad story. One that involves another boy. A boy who, thankfully, lived.”
“Dad?” I said with fear as I remembered the demons’ words to him.
“Not tonight, Siena. I’ve been through enough,” she said, wincing as she absentmindedly touched her swollen face.
“Dad made the inn evil?” I asked.
“No,” she said emphatically, and then paused, her expression turning sorrowful. “I don’t know,” she said tearfully.
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “Please, not tonight,” she said, sounding so old.
My heart broke for her. She had shared every moment of pain I experienced in my life and had so many more of her own.
I could not cause her more pain, not tonight. “Where is Luca?” I asked.
“Upstairs,” she said with relief that I was not asking her to tell me what she couldn’t. “He’s in a guest room near my room. Sam and Jason are in a room next to Lisieux’s. Your sisters are together in Lisieux’s room. They didn’t want to be alone.”
A slim beam of sunlight hit my face as clouds parted. “How are they?” I asked, squinting.
“No one should ever witness what we witnessed, especially not such young children. But they will be okay. We’ll help them. They will heal … we all will.”
We sat in silence as I wondered if she was right. Would we heal? Or would we simply learn how to manage the wound?
Her words broke the silence. “Is your father on his way back?”
I shook my head. “He was still with Thomas’s parents.”
“He won’t leave until they do,” she said. “He must be exhausted and so must you. If you won’t sleep, at least shower and put on dry clothes.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I did sleep for a few hours, at least,” she said, her voice tired.
She watched me push myself up from the chair and start slowly toward the stairs.
“Leave the blanket,” she said. It was covered in dirt and seawater. I dropped it near the stairs. I would pick it up later.
Every step felt like I was climbing a mountain; my legs and mind ached. Gigi was right. I needed sleep.
In my room, I left the light off. I went into the bathroom and shut the door. Only then did I turn on the light. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the brightness as I stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was tangled from the wind … coat, ripped and dirty … jeans, layered in mud, even after the soaking rain. Looking at myself, I wondered how the police thought I got so dirty. We hadn’t told them about crawling under the house to rip Luca from the grave Thomas had stuffed him in or the terror I felt when Thomas’s hands ripped up the floor above me, his pale, bloody arms descending into the dark abyss in front of me.
I fell into the mud—that’s what I told them, thinking back to my conversation. It wasn’t a lie, not a complete one.
I peeled off my clothes and entered the shower. The warm water stung my frozen skin. I was colder than I’d realized. The water burned; I turned the dial to a cooler temperature. Gradually I warmed and the water cooled. I turned the water warmer and warmer until it was where I usually kept it.
I opened the shampoo bottle, squeezing some into my palm. I washed my hair; the tangles were too tight for me to pull my fingers through it. I should have used conditioner to get out the knots, but I didn’t. I ran the soap along my body, rinsed, and turned off the water. I stood, dripping in the cold air. I shivered—the action reminded me to reach for a towel. I dried my skin. I went to my closet and pushed my damp arms through the gray robe. My feet became cold after a few steps on the hardwood floor of my room.
I went to the window. Drones circled overhead. Below, my dad made his way up our yard, helping to support Thomas’s mother, who was walking as if she was drunk. It was not from alcohol; it was from grief.
My father lost his wife and I lost my mother. Brenda and Phil lost their child. Both killed by evil.
I went to bed, my dripping hair soaking the pillow.
Twenty-Seven
When I awoke, the day was gone and the house was silent. I looked at the clock on my desk. It was close to midnight. I went to the window. The moon shone brightly. There were no drones and no lights at the beach. The news crews were gone and so were the police. I wondered if they’d be back tomorrow or if their time on our property was over.
My stomach growled. Ignoring it, I went back to the warmth of my bed. Dreams of Thomas intruded on my sleep. Occasionally, Luca was there too. Always with kind eyes, always with caution, trying to keep me from getting too close to Thomas. Sometimes I heard his words, other times they were muffled. In every dream Thomas died; no matter what I did, he died.
The next time I opened my eyes, the sun had brightened my room. The sound of Avi talking to someone carried through my window from the yard below. I lay, eyes open, staring at the window for what felt like hours and seconds all at the same time. I didn’t want to get up; I didn’t want to face the day, whatever that might bring. I wanted only to sleep. I closed my eyes. Sleep didn’t come. My stomach growled. How long had it been since I’d eaten? Two days, I figured, after my brain slowly started to clear.
I forced myself to sit. I remained in that position as the minutes clicked by on my clock. I willed my legs to move, my feet touched the floor. I held the robe tight around me as I stood and shuffled to the window.
Avi was talking to Luca. As if by some strange chance, he looked up and our eyes met. He stopped the game he was playing with Avi and Jackson, and gave me a small wave. I raised my hand and stepped away from the window.
I felt a surge of emotion as I remembered Luca stuffed, unconscious, under the inn, Thomas’s bloodied hands descending into the darkness. I clasped the robe’s collar tight around my neck as my body crumbled onto the bed. I fought to keep the fear from overtaking me.
It’s over, I repeated again and again in my mind. It’s over. Thomas can’t hurt me anymore and he can’t hurt Luca or anyone else I care about.
There was a knock. I stared at the door, wondering if I had imagined the sound. The knock repeated, and the door opened ever … so … slowly.
“Can I come in?” Luca asked.