Chasm just keeps staring at me, but he doesn’t move, and he doesn’t say anything. He’s just blinking through the moment like he can’t quite fathom what’s going on. I don’t blame him. Isn’t denial the first stage of grief?
“He told me not to tell the cops. He said that if I did … they’d … that they’d …” I turn away from Chasm and pace over to the window, shoving it open and climbing out onto the roof. I just need air. I just need to remember to breathe.
“That they’d what?” Chasm snarls, following after me and crouching on the roof beside me as I put my forehead to my knees and try to think. “That they’d what?”
“He told me if I didn’t do what his captor wanted, that they’d kill him. He said they’d kill him.” I’m talking into my knees since I can’t bear to lift my head up quite yet.
“You’re lying,” he tells me, his voice accusatory. “That’s bullshit. None of that is true.”
I lift my head up to look at him and he recoils like he’s been slapped.
“It’s true. Parrish told me I had to ask Tess about some guy named Justin Prior or … or else.” It sounds like a load of shit, doesn’t it? Like something from one of Tess’ novels. Only … it’s not. It’s actually fucking happening to me, and I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.
“You’re telling me the truth? Because if you’re lying to me, Little Sister, I swear to fuck …” He keeps looking at me, waiting for me to deny it, to tell him what a huge, silly prank this whole thing is. I wish. Oh, how I wish it were.
“I swear on Maxine’s life that I’m telling the truth.” Chasm might not understand what a big deal it is for me to say something like that, but maybe he can hear it in my voice, how goddamn serious I am. He starts cursing in Korean and raking his fingers through his hair over and over again. He asks me something that I obviously don’t understand and then rephrases the question in English.
“So you’re going to do it then?” he asks, the color draining from his face as the implications of what I’ve said finally hit him. “You’re going to ask her about this Justin guy?”
I turn away for a moment and then yelp as Chasm grabs my shoulder and uses his other hand to turn my face back to him.
“You’re not going to get my best friend killed,” he whispers, giving me a small shake. “You have to do what he says.”
Hah. What did I say? That the day I arrived here was the worst of my life? What a crock.
No. No, today definitely takes the shit-frosted cake.
I just keep staring at Chasm, blinking through the strange numbness that’s slowly taking over my body.
“I don’t know …” I start, but I can already feel it, the unfurling of those dark petals inside of me, the ones that will spread until a diseased rose is pricking my heart and bleeding me dry. I do know. I do. I just don’t want to. Isn’t it amazing the ways in which our spirits will stretch to accommodate the tricks that life throws our way?
“You damn well do know,” Chas growls, but not unkindly. It isn’t me that he’s mad at: it’s the situation. “Listen to me, Little Sister, if this guy really did kidnap Parrish, then he has us by the balls.” He pauses, thinks for a moment, adjusts his phrasing. “He has us by the balls and the ovaries. He isn’t asking much. It’s just a question, right? Is that so much to ask in exchange for our friend’s life?”
Chasm is right.
I know he’s right. I just have a terrible feeling about this. It isn’t like I’m going to ask Tess about this Justin person and bam, Parrish will be delivered to the Vanguard doorstep. There will be other requests, I’m sure. This is likely just the first of many. You don’t kidnap someone just to get the answer to a single question.
“Dakota, please,” Chasm breathes out, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes even as he grits his teeth in frustration. “Parrish was my only friend when I first came here. I didn’t speak particularly good English, and everyone was a dick to me. Everyone, even my own dad. He’s the only person that cared. My dad doesn’t even speak Korean, but Parrish does. For me. He’s come to my mom’s jesa ceremony—uh, that’s like a death anniversary—every year since we were nine years old. Let that sink in.”
“Fuck.” I shove up to my feet, running my fingers through my hair like a crazy person.
“Stop that.” Chasm takes my hands and yanks them in front of me, holding them tight in his own. When I look up at him, I can only wonder how I thought he was wearing eyeliner all this time. I mean, he does sometimes wear it, but he’s also got the thickest, darkest, prettiest lashes I’ve ever seen. Aaaaand now you’re going senile, Dakota Banks. Get it together. Chas very carefully escorts me back through the window and into Parrish’s room before turning me around and carefully combing out the knots I just made in my hair with his fingers. It’s an oddly soothing gesture. “Now, please. Go downstairs and ask Tess about Justin Whatever-his-name-is. Please.”
“Okay,” I snap back at him, on the verge of a major breakdown. I spin around to stare at Chasm. Somehow, that calms me down a bit. “I’ll do it, but then we need to figure something else out. I don’t negotiate with terrorists, Chas.”
He nods once and then steps back, opening the door for me.
It takes me a few calculated breaths before I’m able to move, but I finally convince my leaden feet to take a step. Another. Another. In less than two minutes, I’m downstairs and standing beside Tess Vanguard. She’s hunched over the table, her fingers in her hair, her eyes bloodshot and wide but staring at nothing.
“Tess.” Her name feels like it’s stuck in my mouth, that I should maybe floss to get it out. Is that how she always feels when she says ‘Dakota’? I hope not. If so, I feel for her, I really do.
“I’m sorry, Mia, but I just don’t have the energy to talk right now.” She turns away from me, and my nostrils flare with irritation. I should have sympathy for her—and I do—but goddamn it, the Mia thing is getting old.
“I was doing some Google research and I came across a name … do you know a Justin Prior?”
And there it is.
Tess’ head snaps up and she whips around to face me, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Justin Prior?” she repeats back, choking on the words. “I don’t have time for this today.” Tess shoves up from the table violently and starts off down the hall. Since my fucking stepbrother turned lover turned … whatever-he-is, is currently being held captive, I don’t have much choice but to follow.
“I just want to know who Justin Prior is, that’s it. Tell me and I’ll go away, I promise.”
Tess whirls on me then, a purple rage in her face that I’ve never seen before and hope like hell I’ll never have to see again.
“Your brother—my son—is missing, Dakota. Do you understand that? He’s missing.” She nearly shrieks the last part of this, and fuck … but I can’t blame her. Of course I can’t blame her. I went missing for fourteen years. Fourteen fucking years without a clue. And look what it’s done to us, look at it. Parrish, her real son, her true son in a way I’ll never be, he’s gone now, too.