Sisters of Blood and Spirit Page 48

Of the two of us, Lark had always thought that she was the “bad” one. My sister had no idea the things I sometimes thought—the things I sometimes wanted to do. If I could help it, she never would. The one thing keeping me from joining Bent—beyond Lark—was the fact that I was not going to be another ghost’s servant. I was Dead Born. I might be fairly ignorant of my kind, young and still new, but I was aware that I was part of a special caste—one that I wasn’t certain I wanted to embrace.

But I did know that I wasn’t a follower.

“Mace isn’t dead,” I told Kevin. “But if any of you go back onto Haven Crest grounds tonight, you will be.”

He repeated what I’d said.

Gage slumped against Ben’s car. I thought for a moment that he might cry, but he didn’t.

Ben folded his arms over his chest. “What about Lark and Mace? We just leave them?”

“They’ll be fine,” Sarah said. “Mace’s father won’t let them actually go to jail, not for trespassing. He wants Mace to go to an Ivy League so bad I think Mace could murder someone and his father would still try to cover it up.”

I hoped she was right—not about Mace committing murder, of course. She didn’t seem too worried about her boyfriend, but maybe she was just that confident that he’d be okay. Or maybe she was in shock after what she’d just experienced.

Or maybe she was just more concerned about herself, which was the conclusion I chose, because I didn’t like her very much. I would have stuck my tongue out if I thought she might see it. I settled for tracing my finger along her spine just to watch her shudder.

“What do we do now?” Roxi asked. They were lost without Lark to take charge.

“We go home,” Kevin said after a few seconds of silence. “Bent had to have a patient number. If we can find it, we can find his grave and burn the bastard.”

“We’ve got his razor, too,” Ben informed them. He pulled the plastic bag Lark had given him from his pocket. “Should we try to destroy it first?”

They all looked at Kevin. Kevin looked at me. “Yes,” I said.

Kevin nodded. “Wren says we should burn it.” He glanced around at the other cars parked nearby. “But not here.”

Ben frowned at the baggie. “We should probably wait for Lark and Mace.”

“We don’t know when they’ll be back,” Sarah said. “Are you okay with holding on to...that thing while we wait?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t think Bent knows where it is.”

“He’s right,” I said. “The salt, herbs and iron keep him from it. Ben will be safe as long as he doesn’t take the razor from the bag.”

Kevin repeated what I’d said. Ben tossed the baggie into his car.

“I need to check on Lark,” I told him. To be honest, I was a little lost without her, too. I was more concerned about her than I was angry—although I was still really mad. Getting smacked with iron came as close to physical pain as anything in my world could. It was terrifying to be ripped apart like that, and my sister was going to hear just how much.

“I can come by later,” I added. “Let you know what’s going on.”

Kevin nodded and looked at me. I could see that he was worried—his aura was wild with it. He was also frightened and angry. The only thing he could do about it was try to find Bent’s patient number—I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. Going to Lark was the best thing I could do. She was my tether, and I’d regain my strength with her.

Kevin told the others that I’d update him later. It would be so much easier if I could just talk to them myself, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. For someone who was supposed to be so strong, I felt pretty weak.

I was just about to go when Roxi cried out. I turned and saw Gage stumble out of Ben’s car. I hadn’t even noticed him get into it.

His hands were bloody.

“Oh, no,” I whispered as he fell into Ben’s arms.

“Wren!” Kevin cried.

I skipped forward, crossing the distance in a matter of blinks. Gage convulsed in Ben’s arms. His eyes had rolled back into his head and his skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sarah cried.

“Roll up his sleeves, please?” I asked. Kevin did. The spectral wounds on Gage’s arms—invisible to all but me—were ragged, wet, red-and-black gouges in his flesh. But there were new wounds as well—self-inflicted.

Bent must have been whispering to him through his infection, like he had to Sarah at the coffee shop. Gage had gotten into the car and cut himself because Bent wanted us to know this wasn’t over. He could still get us. I could see muscle and tendon, inflamed and infected. Tar-like pus ran down his hands, mixing with his blood, dripping from his fingers.

“He needs a hospital,” I said. “Now. Pour salt on his arms.”

“Put him in the backseat,” Kevin commanded, opening his car. Ben put the twitching Gage inside. He grabbed a chip bag from the floor of the backseat and used it to pick up the bloody razor, which he closed before shoving it back into the bag of salt. He shook it so it was covered.

He was learning fast when it came to ghosts.

“Is he going to be coming for us?” Ben asked, glancing around as though there would be any warning. “He knows we have the razor.”

“I don’t feel him,” I said.

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