She spots me nearing and recoils. That stings like a slap across the face, but I swallow the lump in my throat, telling myself that it’s normal, that she doesn’t remember me, that she just witnessed me kill many people and it’s natural to be scared.
I don’t get any closer.
“We’re going home,” I say.
She eyes me warily. I look out over the rest of the teens, at the pile of bodies of those who won’t be coming with us. Who will never go home. For a moment I consider begging Damien to let us take them home so they can at least have a proper burial, so their families can get some closure, but I know that pushing him will only put the rest of the teens at risk. We have to leave them behind.
I hesitate a moment before turning to Paige. “Wait here a sec.”
Her eyes go wide.
“I’ll be right back,” I assure her. “You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you. Okay?”
I look at the rest of the teens crowded around, making sure they’ve heard me. I don’t know what I expected—shouts of hurrah? high fives?—but my announcement just makes them cry harder.
I leave Paige and cross the battlefield, toward the bodies heaped at the altar. It doesn’t take long to spot Samantha in the pile of fallen kids. Her unblinking eyes stare up at the sky.
I rack my brain for some prayer I can say for them, but in the end I don’t know a single one. I bite my lip as a sob chokes my chest. So many parents who will never get to see their kids again. Never get to say goodbye. The unfairness of it throbs like a living thing in my gut.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I reach around my neck and unclasp the braided-leather protection amulet Aunt Penny gave me, and then I drape it around Samantha’s neck, letting the little wooden box settle in the hollow of her neck.
“Be safe,” I whisper.
And then I turn around.
That’s when I see him. My dad, lying on his side at an unnatural angle, his mouth hanging open as if in a silent scream. His singed ox mask has been crushed from a stampede of witches, sorcerers, and kids.
I feel like I should go over and make sure that he’s really dead, but one look at him and I know I don’t need to take his pulse to get my answer—he’s gone. And I killed him.
I turn my back on him for the final time.
“Come on,” I say to the teens. “Let’s get out of here.”
Despite their hesitation, they follow me up the hill to where Damien impatiently waits for us.
I got exactly what I wanted. We’re getting out of this place, and we’re taking the teens with us—most of them, anyway. The Family will wipe their memories, make up some story to cover their tracks so that the teens will never really know what happened to them, but they’ll get to go home to their parents. Live normal lives.
The nightmare is over.
I should get the hell out of here, but I can’t leave yet. I tug Bishop’s shirt, and he stops.
“Will you make sure they all get back okay?” I ask. “Make sure Paige is okay?”
“What?” He shakes his head, his eyes full of confusion.
“Just promise me you’ll make sure they get home safe.”
“And where are you going to be?”
“Here,” I answer. “There’s something I have to do first.”
The door to the headquarters swings in a breeze, and the headlights of the car shine into the darkened tunnels. The mountain looks more like a tomb than a place people lived. Which, I guess, it is. My heart gives a sickening twist.
I take tentative steps toward the door, gripping the flashlight I found in the console of the car in my sweaty hand. Just before I enter, I spot a clump of flowers in the underbrush hanging over the door. I reach up and yank them down. Daisies.
I step inside.
My footsteps echo in the empty tunnels. I walk for so long that I worry I won’t be able to find the basement. And then I worry that he won’t be there when I do.
But I find it. And he is there.
I beam the flashlight inside the tiny alcove. Cruz’s hands are shackled over his head and bolted to the stone wall. His body hangs without any tension at all, his normally tan skin unnaturally pale.
He’s been gone for a while.
I drop the flashlight and fall to my knees at his side. And then I tentatively reach up to touch his cheek. His skin is ice cold.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears falling fast down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
I kiss his cheek, letting my lips linger on his skin. He’ll never leave this place.
I know it’s morbid. I know I should let him go, but it’s because of me that he’s here. I stay with him until the pain flashes in my temples and I know I’m going home.
“Goodbye,” I whisper.
Before the world goes black, I make sure the flowers are at his feet.
30
With her hair mussed up on the pillow and her mouth slackened in sleep, I can almost imagine that Aunt Penny is just nursing one of her epic hangovers on our couch, instead of resting after a battle that nearly killed her.
Almost.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at Aunt Penny the same way again. She saved me—she risked her life for the barest of chances that she could help me, because she cares about me that much. My chest feels tight, and I can’t help the sniffle that escapes me.
Aunt Penny’s eyes flutter open.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Go back to sleep.”
She swallows as her eyes move across my face, taking in the tears streaked down my cheeks. “You’re crying,” she says. Her voice is harsh and thick with sleep.
“Happy tears.” But when I try to force a smile, I just end up crying again.
“Indie…” Aunt Penny tries to sit up, but I gently push her back down.
“It’s okay. I’m just emotional, that’s all. You need to rest.”
She falls back against her pillow, too weak to fight. She clasps her hand over mine. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”