Page 11 of I Am Salvation

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Another silence stretches across the line, but it’s shorter this time. “Because I don’t have her anymore.”

Anger surges through me. Whoever this is on the other end of the line just admitted to having my sister! If I could reach my fist through the phone and mutilate him, I’d do it.

But I breathe in.

If he hangs up, all is lost.

“Then who does?” I demand.

“They call themselves the Order of the Serpent.”

“The Order of the Serpent?” I echo, my blood chilling. Whatever the hell it is, it sure doesn’t sound welcoming. It sounds like some kind of bizarre cult that could be doing God knows what to my sister.

If this joker isn’t trying to pull one over on me. How is my sister even alive after all this time?

Someone is playing me.

Who else would know about her pink flannel pajamas with rainbows, though?

Only my parents…

But if she was wearing them when she was taken…

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

My parents. I swore to God I’d never speak to them again, but if Griffin is alive somewhere, they might have information I need.

I’ve got to find them.

The person on the other end of the line doesn’t reply, and then the call ends.

“Damn it!” I have to stop myself from hurling the phone at the wall. I need it. It’s my only link to Griffin.

What is the Order of the Serpent? Why do they have Griffin? What do they want?

I’m left with more questions than answers and a racing heart.

I should call Alayna. Tell her what I know—what little I know—but how can I explain this to her when I can’t even grasp it myself? How could a bunch of cultists kidnap my sister? And who the hell had her for the two decades before that?

But first, my parents.

I don’t bother plugging their names into the search engine. Been there, done that.

Instead, I call Alayna after all. If she’s as good as the Steels think she is, she should be able to find Felix and Stefania Locke…and tell me what the hell the Order of the Serpent is.

Alayna picks up on the second ring. “Dragon. Any updates?”

“Yes,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “I got a package. It contained a piece of fabric from some pajamas I gave Griffin for Christmas before she was taken.”

“Are you sure it was hers?” Her voice remains even.

“No, of course I’m not sure. But it also contained a phone number, and I called it.”

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