Page 73 of Sick Bargain

He wraps my wrist in new gauze. “Get dressed, Remiel.”

“I don’t own funeral attire. You burned it in my house.”

He nods at a black bag hanging from the door of his closet. “Wear that. Eat this.” He picks up a bowl of fruit and yogurt from the bedside table. “Find shoes that fit in my closet.” He pauses, a sneaky expression on his face. “There area coupleof options.” He leaves his bedroom.

A couple.

Is that what we are? Not a very healthy one.

Compared to other cults,the Matter Cult was small. But twenty-one funerals at once does not seem small. The Moros Cemetery is packed full, but I’m getting the impression that most of the townsfolk are here to say ‘good riddance’ rather than to mourn.

Gregory Malone is here, watching me from the back of the crowd, but Krypt isn’t watching him as closely as I thought.He’s not Krypt today. He’s Keegan Hallows. We’re Keegan and Remiel, the new gossip couple in Moros. Soren is on my other side, but the two of them are acting weird. Because they’re watching my mom instead of Gregory Malone.

She’s here, dressed in the same black cloak as the rest of us—it’s a Moros funeral tradition. A bit on the nose, but what in Moros isn’t? Selena, my sister, is standing with her, but something has changed about my sister, too. She’s more confident, standing straighter, looking at the townsfolk like she knows their secrets. My mom is beside her, watching everyone but the cult being buried, but her eyes are strange and her movements are twitchy.

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask my brother.

Soren hasn’t seen my new Krypt-inflicted body modifications, and I hope he doesn’t until they heal. He’s been moody today, fighting with Krypt’s brother about something, but as soon as we got to the cemetery, they separated and put it to the side. He leans towards me but never takes his eyes off Mom.

“Don’t go near her,” he says.

“Why? The brain control thing?”

“Yes.” He glares at me. “Keep your voice down.”

Ever since Krypt told him I mentioned Dr. Graves, they’ve both been stuck to my side.

“Who is he? Dr. Graves?” Because I know they both recognize the name.

Soren glares again, but Krypt tightens his hold on my wrist, fingers pressing into my new burns. I wince and shut my mouth. Apparently, this isn’t the place to talk about it.

I still don’t know all the identities of the Vile Boys, but some of them are here. Killian, who is Riot, stands with Mason, the tattoo artist Cain goes to, and the blue mask of Vile House. I don’t know much about Mason, but his eyes are so alert that itmakes me wonder… how long has he been Menace, a Vile Boy? And why? What drives someone to join such a society? He’s staring at Cain, who is with the Death For Life Cult, holding Sadie’s hand.

Kyd isn’t here, and when I asked Krypt about it, he said Kyd is actually a patient at the asylum, so he’s not often allowed out without being masked.

As I look around the crowd and notice the locals, I take them in under a new light. Anyone could belong to Vile House, and until I learned about Keegan, Killian, and Soren, I never truly considered the people I knew could be Vile. Now the options are endless. I should feel naïve about everything. Instead, I feel like I’ve been let in on a Moros secret. This town is fucking deranged, but… I think I love it here. Somehow, I finally feel like I belong.

Black cloaks and a massive crowd, seeing off a cult that did this town harm. Crows and ravens cawing throughout the cemetery. The line of Sauder headstones and the forest I watched Ophelia die in. There’s something sinister about Moros. It breeds dark people, but it also creates a community of tainted loyalty. We might be twisted, but we’re twistedtogether, and if Moros is good at one thing, it’s protecting our town from outside influences. We need to change, but we don’t want to, and I smile in enjoyment of our defiance.

As Reeven Matterson’s wife starts to play the oboe while the caskets are lowered, violins and other string instruments join her. Soren places a hand on my chest. I wince, eyes watering at the pressure on my wounds, but I don’t pull away.

Krypt pushes him away and pulls my back against his chest. “Don’t.”

Soren shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Fucking pathetic. I’m going to talk to Mom. Don’t leave his side.”

“Don’t tell me how to protect him.”

“Fucking pathetic,” Soren repeats. He backs away, drawing the hood of his cloak up over his dark blond hair, his lithe, leanly muscled body slipping through the crowd seamlessly. He shares a look with our sister and then speaks to Mom.

She doesn’t even register his nearness. “Something is getting worse with her, right?”

“Yes.” Krypt’s voice is by my ear.

“Who is that doctor?”

In a deep timbre, Krypt whispers, “Do you remember the name Axel Graves?”

oh.Thatdoctor? “He was a young doctor, wasn’t he? He died a few years ago.”

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