"Hello?" I asked.
"Hayley Dunemark?" a crisp female voice inquired.
"Yes?" My eyes darted up to Evan's, tears already forming.
"Ms. Dunemark. I'm glad to hear you're well. Many of the ball's attendees ..." she trailed off when she realized she put her foot in it.
"See," Evan mouthed at me as he squeezed my shoulder, trying to reassure me.
But the police officer's next lines shattered me like glass.
"It's my regretful duty to inform you ma'am, that we need you to come down to the morgue to identify your moth—"
I dropped the phone.
Evan's arms scooped me up as my vision became tinted with black. My shadow magic wrapped around me, creating a cocoon.
Malcolm walked back in and took in the scene immediately. He strode over and grabbed the phone.
I watched dully as he talked to the woman on the phone, got an address, and made an appointment for me to go verify that mother was dead … that my stupid moment of compassion had killed her.
14
The Pinnacle police station looked like a capsule in time--for a second, I felt deja vu wash over me as I remembered the last time I'd stepped inside, when I was eleven and Matthew had gotten arrested for illegal ice racing, at age fourteen.
We'd had to go sit and wait in one of the meeting rooms in the back. It had been lined with windows and I'd stared out at the officers chatting and typing up reports and doing all the things that responsible grown-ups did at work. It had been simultaneously fascinating and boring.
When Matthew had arrived in handcuffs, it had been the highlight of my life to that point. I'd brought a camera and snapped a picture, saying, "I'm going to blow this up for your wedding day."
Matthew hadn't even minded, which had chafed me at the time. He'd still been too busy riding his high from his win. He'd been so damned proud of himself. His ice had been the smoothest, and Evan, who'd stolen his dad's BMW for the race, had coasted along Matthew's ice floe to victory, beating out two guys at school who talked a lot of smack but apparently couldn't deliver.
Dad had chuckled to himself as Matthew kept quoting his own stats. Mom had been red-faced and blustering apologies to anyone who'd listen until an officer had brought her a cup of coffee and told her not to worry, that she wasn't raising a delinquent, that her son was perfectly normal.
Nope. Matthew hadn't been the delinquent. I was. I swallowed as I glanced around the station again, no longer focused on memories, but on enemies.
These police officers, with their Styrofoam coffee cups, and sub sandwiches, and amulets of all kinds lining the room, would eventually be after me. I took the moment to size them up. I hadn't wanted to come... but it's what a good daughter would do. An innocent one. One who wasn't responsible for her own mother's death.
And at this point, I was used to putting on a blank face. What was one more lie?
Grayson leaned down from where he stood next to me and whispered in my ear, "See all the Honesty Amulets?"
I glanced over at the golden stones set into plastic cases that lined one wall. Above them were Clarity Amulets in a bright electric purple. Amulets required a warrant to use, cops weren’t just allowed to force people to spill their guts—they had to respect the norm fifth amendment. But someone had intelligently decided to keep them on display at all times, to remind the criminals that they could be forced to tell the truth, to remember, to confess.
It was almost like having public gallows back in the day, where the noose would swing empty in the wind as women hurried to various market stalls, the threat of law and order looming over them at all times.
I noticed a few of the Honesty Amulets were missing. I exchanged a look with Gray and knew he'd noticed too. We'd have to stay on our toes.
I reached out and gripped his hand in mine, steering us away from the amulets and toward the line in front of the welcome desk. Evan had argued to come but I’d turned him down. The world had seen me run out on Grayson Mars last night. Then a dozen people had seen us reconcile, who knew how many had heard our body doubles. Grayson had to be the one who came with me.
I clutched his hand in a death grip when it was our turn. A portly magical with a bushy mustache and a bald head smiled up at me. "How can I help you?"
I took a deep breath to let him see me visibly brace myself, but also because I actually had to brace myself. "I need to go down to the morgue." I hated how shaky my voice sounded.
Gray squeezed my hand and filled out some visitor form that the welcome guy shoved across his desk. We got little stickers with our names on them to let the officers know we were visitors instead of minor criminals attempting to escape, and then we plodded over to the elevator.
When we climbed in, the smell of Ramen noodles immediately overwhelmed me and I cringed. I glanced down at the stained carpet, guessing that someone last night had spilled their dinner and we were all suffering the consequences.
I was almost glad to get out, until the tinge of formaldehyde replaced the near-urine smell of ramen. That's when I had to steel my stomach.
Gray turned me to face him. He put my cheeks in his hands, which was a surprisingly tender gesture for him. "Look at me, nemesis. You're the most badass person I know. This will not break you. Know why?"
I shook my head.
"Cause you won't let it."
He pulled me through the double doors into the room lined with metal drawers. Instantly, I wanted to pull back, to leave, to walk away and never come back. A shiver that had nothing to do with the room's temperature coursed down my spine. A million rocks piled up in my stomach building a wall and blocking my voice, making me choke, weighing me down, breaking me.
Grayson did all the talking. I just stood there like a robot. But unlike a robot, I felt everything. A memory of my mom braiding my hair flitted through my head. A random memory of her laughing and kissing my dad in the front hallway while I held up a hand and pretended to be disgusted popped up and then was replaced by her tear-streaked face at Dad's funeral.
I didn't even hear when the coroner opened the drawer and slid out the long metal table. I didn't realize until Gray squeezed my hand and nudged me forward as the other man lifted the sheet covering the body.
My mother's face stared blankly up at me, eyes as cloudy as if she'd just taken Calm. Half of her hair was perfect, the other half a tangled mess, matted with grass and blood from the giant, gaping hole in her neck.
Grief slammed down on me and my knees nearly buckled. I turned and collapsed into Gray's arms, unable to look a second longer.
"I'm so sorry," the coroner said. "But I'm going to need you to confirm a few things."
Nothing Claude had ever done to me hurt as much as those next few minutes confirming my mother's identification information. Because never before in my life had I been so alone.
Now, I had no family.
Zero.
None.
Unless I could bring Matthew back.
I was still in a pained daze when we got back to the farmhouse. Each of the guys pulled me in for a hug, but I was so numb I hardly felt them. I tried to pull up the drive and determination that had fueled me for so many years, but I couldn't. I just felt... empty.