“Twice,” I admit. Tears prick my eyes. God, how did things get so out of control?
He exhales and rakes a hand through his hair. I’ve never seen him look so mad. I know instantly that I can’t tell him about Cruz—not right now. Not yet.
“I was going to tell you,” I start lamely.
He laces his hands behind his head, his elbows folded over his face as he paces the doorstep. My heart pulses with a profound ache.
“Bishop—”
“When?” he interrupts, spinning on me.
“The day we fought,” I say, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounds.
“And tonight?”
I nod.
“How…” He stops, seeming to reconsider his line of questioning. He wipes a hand down his face. “Do you know how much danger you put yourself in? Do you have any idea?”
I look up at the softening of his voice. He quickly pulls me into a hug that I don’t deserve. All the stress of the last few weeks releases in one big wave, and I let out a sob.
“You could have gotten yourself killed,” he says into my hair, running his fingers down my back so that warm tingles spread through me. “You’re crazy, Indie.”
I don’t deserve his kindness. I cry into his chest until his T-shirt is wet under my cheek and I don’t have any tears left. And then he pulls me over to the stairs, and we sit down, leaning against each other in the dark. I trace the colorful tattoos snaking up his arm, while he absently plays with the ends of my hair. After so long the silence seems impossible to breech.
“Well, did you at least find her?” he finally asks.
I take a shuddery breath and nod. “They wiped her memory. She doesn’t even recognize me.”
He kisses my shoulder, saying so much without any words.
“How did you do it?” he asks. “Get there, I mean.”
I wipe my cheeks, sniffling. “A witch at the black market has been helping me.”
He looks at me, as if trying to decide if I’m telling the truth.
“What?” I say.
“You’re amazing.”
I am the opposite of amazing.
“I met someone inside who’s been helping me,” I spit out.
“Who?”
I hesitate.
“Come on, no more secrets,” he says. “I want to hear all the details.”
“His name is Cruz.” My cheeks flood at the mention of his name in front of my boyfriend.
Bishop’s eyebrows raise just the tiniest bit, like he can see right through me. I look into my lap and hope he hasn’t noticed the guilt on my face.
“He kidnapped me the first time I went there. He was going to let me go before I got attacked by this gargoyle thing. And the second time he saved me from this guy who was attacking me, and he was going to break me out of the dorms where they keep the teens except I got shot back here before that could happen.”
I realize I’m babbling and stop myself.
Bishop’s quiet for a moment, and my chest tightens in anticipation of what he might say.
“That’s great,” he finally says. “I’m glad you’ve had help in there.”
I’d thought I wanted him not to be mad at me, but hearing him be so charitable just makes me feel even worse. I’m a bad person.
We’re quiet for too long.
“Come on,” he says, giving me a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “Tell me what’s going on. And start at the beginning. You weren’t making a lot of sense back there.”
I force a smile.
I tell him all about the teens who have mysteriously gone missing in L.A. and shown up in Los Demonios. I tell him about Jezebel and the Chief’s speech, about the Chief’s sister, Rowan, and everything in between. I talk for so long that my throat is sore when I’m done.
“That doesn’t sound good,” he says when I finally finish.
“Understatement of the century,” I mutter. I pick up a pebble and toss it across the driveway. It plinks against the pavement.
“Don’t get mad at me,” Bishop says. “But…I think we should tell your aunt.”
My instinct is to tell him he’s crazy to even suggest doing that, but deep down, I know he’s right. Something big is going on. Too big for us to handle alone.
If my life were a book, it would need a whole chapter dedicated to Impromptu Meetings in Kitchens.
Aunt Penny sits across the table from me, Bishop at my side. They’re both waiting for me to explain why we’re gathered here.
“So listen,” I start. “I’m going to be completely honest with you and tell you everything that’s been going on, and in exchange I ask that you please, please consider cutting me some slack. I could keep this from you and you might never know about it.”
For a second it looks like my aunt wants to give me a good old-fashioned spanking, but finally she nods. I take a deep breath.
“I’ve been going to Los Demonios.”
“What?” She launches to her feet.
I sit there quietly while she loses her shit.
“How could you be so stupid?” she yells. “I can’t believe it. Right under my nose!”
“Are you finished?” I ask. “Because there’s more.”
She slumps back into her chair, then waves a hand impatiently for me to continue.
“Remember on TV the other morning—there was a teen who was missing and you asked if I knew him?”
Angry blotches have sprouted up on her neck.
“Well, there have been more teens missing.”
“So?” she says, shifting in her chair.
“So they’re inside Los Demonios. Dozens of them. The Chief is collecting them for something—he says to save them from—”
“Wait a minute,” she interrupts. “Did you just say the Chief?”
“Yeah, why?”
“And you talked to him?” she asks, staring at me with a scary intensity.
“Yes…,” I answer cautiously.
She slaps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes triple in size as the reality of what I’m saying sinks in. “Never again,” she says. “That man is dangerous. Stay far, far away from him, okay? Promise me.”
I exchange a glance with Bishop.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because he’s a disgusting man,” she spits, shaking her head. “Worse than the Family. Worse than anyone. Why do you think he’s in that place?”
The hate coming from her is so uncharacteristic I don’t know how to react.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I ask.