She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. She had to warn him about Fiona. But how did she tell the reverend his wife was somehow tied to a supernatural serial killer? Where did she even begin to explain?
“Y-you need to get her out of the house.” It came out in a stammering rush, and as the reverend blinked at her she said desperately, “I can’t explain how I know this, but…I think she’s worse than either of us knew. So much worse. You need to send her away, to the hospital, or—or even back to camp.”
To her frustration he was already shaking his head. “She needs time. I’ll get her help. I’m going to see an out-of-town specialist tomorrow.”
Just a few days ago that would have been a huge leap for him, but now…once again, he wasn’t listening to her. “You don’t understand, Dad, please. You have to listen. I think she’s really dangerous—”
“I think you should continue to stay with Reagan.”
Dayna froze, protests dying on her lips. The reverend’s face was grim, and once again he wouldn’t meet her eyes, shifting awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. “Just for now. Until I can get her sorted.”
It felt like he’d knocked the wind out of her. She only stared at him, stunned, and the reverend cleared his throat. “I should get to the car. She has an appointment with Dr. Ross this afternoon.”
So that was that. Fiona was going to stay, and Dayna was leaving.
It shouldn’t be that shocking, not after the revelation about Fiona, but somehow it still felt like he’d sucked all the air out of the room.
She told herself this was exactly what she wanted. That living with Reagan was what she’d dreamed of as a kid.
So why did this feel so bad?
For a moment she just stood there, but the reverend had already walked around the corner and out of sight.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
MEINER
They pulled up to the farmhouse, and Meiner paused, watching Dayna slide out and collect her book bag. Dayna had told her a bit of what happened, that her father had said it wasn’t safe for her back at her house. Then she’d lapsed into silence. Meiner hadn’t wanted to pry, but she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about their run-in with Fiona
Walsh.
There was something about the woman that disturbed her to her very core, and it wasn’t just the overt aggression. The vacant expression maybe, or the hollowness in her eyes. Like a haunted house with no lights on. You couldn’t be sure who—or what—was home.
Her mind kept flipping between that and what Dayna had said just before they’d run into Fiona. That Meiner’s gran might have been one of the Butcher’s victims…
It seemed impossible. Gran would have mentioned that, wouldn’t
she?
It didn’t make sense.
They watched as Reagan pulled the van up, backing slowly into the spot between the Callighans’ station wagon and Meiner’s Datsun. Dayna had told the others what happened before they’d left the library and about the mark on her mother’s arm. Reagan and Cora were talking about it as they climbed out.
“…how could she be involved if she’s been up at the camp?” Reagan was saying.
“She probably just saw it on TV and copied it because she’s a nutcase.”
“Don’t be a dickhead.” Reagan flashed Dayna a quick sideways look, but thankfully Dayna seemed totally lost in thought.
Cora only shrugged, fishing in her pocket for her cigarettes, her hands shaking. Meiner frowned. She’d been too distracted to really notice, but Cora was unusually pale, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. And…had she lost weight?
When she looked up, Meiner caught her unguarded expression for a split second. Hungry, haunted, desperate.
She looks like an addict. She wouldn’t be surprised if Cora had got herself hooked on something to enhance her magic.
Meiner watched her bring her cigarette up to her lips again, catching sight of the dark rust-colored stain under her thumbnail. Cora noticed her staring a second later and drew her hand back down, flicking her cigarette onto the ground.
The last time Cora had been stressed enough for nosebleeds, they’d still been sharing a room. She’d been fighting with her remaining family about something; Meiner had heard her hissing at them on the phone, and nearly every call had resulted in a bloody nose.
Meiner hesitated. They used to talk, a long time ago. She remembered lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling as Cora’s voice drifted up from the bunk below, both of them made a little braver by the cover of darkness. She knew things about the other girl no one else did.
Glancing back quickly, she saw Reagan and Dayna had moved over to the front gate, heads bent together. She turned back to Cora, keeping her voice low. “You okay? You look…pale.”
Cora blinked at her, hesitating. Finally she shrugged, leaning against Meiner’s car. “I’m just tired. You know how it is in a new place. I don’t sleep a lot.”
Meiner nodded slowly. For a moment she could have sworn Cora was about to say something else. She leaned back against the car next to her. “Yeah, I know. Me either.”
Cora’s smile was faint, but for once it wasn’t her usual smirk. Then she turned away as Reagan and Dayna walked back over.
If Meiner thought Cora looked bad, Dayna was a close runner-up. Her normally glossy hair was tangled—she’d been working her fingers through it the entire ride over, and her skin was so pale her freckles stood out in stark contrast.
Meiner leaned closer, bumping Dayna’s arm gently. “All right?” She tried to keep her voice casual, but she wanted to take her by the arms and look her in the face. To make sure she was okay.
“I just…I can’t believe she carved it into her arm. It looked horrible.” Dayna reached up, tugging at a strand of hair, and Meiner had to stop herself from taking her hand, from trying to distract her. But of course, she could hardly do that in front of everyone.
“Speculate all you want, but I think we have more immediate concerns, right?” Cora tipped her head back and blew smoke out through pursed lips. “As in, these guys are going to try to resurrect this bitch soon, right?”
Meiner exchanged a look with Dayna. Tonight. “Yeah.” Meiner cleared her throat. “We’re running out of time.”
Dayna shook her head, like she was shaking off thoughts about her mother. “We have to stop them before they kill again.”
From the corner of her eye Meiner saw Cora jerk suddenly, as if she’d been stung. Her eyes looked distant, and then she blinked, apparently noticing everyone staring.
“There’s a way we can find them. But…the others won’t like it.” She cut the farmhouse a quick sideways look.
Meiner frowned. She wasn’t at all comfortable with this sudden shift in Cora. “What are you talking about?”
“We might be able to access them—the brothers, I mean. Someone who’s had contact is liable to be able to scry successfully. It could tell us where they are.”
Meiner’s mouth dropped open. “We’ve been over this. Contact scrying is way too dangerous.”
“What else do you suggest?” Cora shot back. “We’re running out of time, and this is the only way to guarantee results. Contact scrying is a direct link; it can find them no matter how warded they are.”