Page 39 of Demise

“I saw him the night he was killed. My father had me meet him in the tunnels for a meeting with him and some of the Elders. When I came out of the church, I saw Nathaniel in the cemetery with a girl.”

Rage attempts to consume me as he spins his bullshit. I’m waiting for him to stray from the truth, begging for him to tell a lie so I can cut out that piece of shit tongue.

“It was his girlfriend,” Asher continues as he turns to face Skyla.

“Elise,” I fill in. He deserves to know the name of the girl whose death he’s responsible for as well.

Asher glances to me, nodding as he speaks,

“She wasn’t a part of the Brethren. She was an outsider. Relationships between members and nonmembers are taboo…relationships between Legacies and nonmembers are—”

“Prohibited,” I cut off.

“Why?” Skyla asks.

Asher shakes his head. “Why are any of the rules in place? Because decades ago, someone decided it and made it so.”

“What happened?” Skyla pushes.

He shrugs. “As you can imagine, having a relationship with an outsider was bad, but bringing them onto campus? On our sacred grounds? I told Nathaniel both of them needed to get the fuck out of there before anyone found them, and then I went home.”

I let out a bitter laugh, and I feel my fingertips twitch in desperation for my knife. What I wouldn’t give to jam it into his carotid right now.

“There seems to be some holes in your story, Putnam. Like the part where you narc’d on Nate to Daddy dearest and had him and Elise taken out.”

Asher’s face screws up at that.

“What are you talking about? I never told my father shit. I went home, went to bed, and when I woke up the next morning, news was spreading that he was dead.”

My next dig pauses on my tongue as I study him closely. It’s my job to read people, to study them, and right now, I do not like what I’m seeing. I don’t like it because no matter how hard I look, I see nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

“How did the Elders find out, then? How did he get caught?”

“I don’t know, maybe he didn’t get out of there in time. Maybe someone else saw but didn’t confront him like I did. You really have thought for all these years that I was the one to snitch?”

“You are your father’s son,” I throw out with far less heat than I intended.

The jab doesn’t seem to affect him as he stays quiet for several seconds before huffing out a short breath.

“Fuck, no wonder you’ve been at my throat all these years. If I thought you were responsible for Liam’s death, I’d have killed you a long time ago.”

I don’t like him understanding me; it’s like he’s trying to relate and compare the two of us, which is fucking ridiculous.

“Yeah, well, your last name affords you a certain amount of protection. You’re the future king of this fucked up world. If I took you out, your father would send every enforcer out there after me. I chose my survival, not yours.”

We both stand there, silently staring at one another. My head is racing with a million and one scenarios. Of course, I’ve scoured every database and security camera from that night. For months I poured over footage after footage. At 9:37 PM, Nate was, stupidly, walking hand in hand with Elise towards the graveyard. At 9:52 PM, Asher slipped out of the church and through the graveyard before coming across them. They spoke for thirty-eight seconds before Asher walked away. Two minutes later, the feed was cut. No amount of scrubbing and file repair has been able to pull anything else from it. The feed was lost, and therefore, so was the truth. Is it really possible that Putnam is telling the truth? That he went about his business and someone else’s hands hold Nate’s blood on them? I’m not completely convinced yet, but Skyla sure seems to be.

“See? All of this hate…it was for nothing. Asher didn’t do anything wrong. Your anger and hate is misplaced.”

I stare at my siren, more irritated with her than I’ve ever been before, when Asher intervenes.

“Is it, though? Granted, I personally am not the one who damned him or took him out, but my father is, right? My family is. My name is a curse, an omen of death. The entire Putnam lineage has blood-soaked hands that will never wash clean.”

All so, so true. Then again, if we are talking about the amount of bloodshed, I’d say the Griggs family lineage is right up therewith Putnam. At the end of the day, we are all their puppets. It started with the lead puppeteer Thomas Putnam in 1693, and it has descended down to our current master, Christopher.

I stare at Asher, unsure what to make of this new version of him. The one that accepts blame, despite him not being the direct culprit. The version that sympathizes with others and is self aware of his family’s wickedness. Fucking hell, Skyla is some miracle worker. She brings out the absolute best in the most lost of causes. It’s a phenomenon that deserves to be studied and explored.

Slowly, Asher puts out his hand to me, but I just stare at it. He doesn’t seem offended. Instead, he just waits, his hand extended and a sincere look on his face. My eyes dart to my left to see Skyla watching me with a pleading look. So, I do it for her.

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