Page 1 of Chill

1

“You could go home.”Erika’s words ring in my ears over the rumble of noise in the moderately busy diner, but I don’t look up at the girl I only knew asDoll Maskfor the first few times I met her. My eyes drag up from my plate of fried eggs and toast, and I study her small, heart-shaped face set under blonde curls. In a way, she still looks like a doll. Even in a cardigan and long-sleeved tee over leggings and boots, there’s something delicate about her.

Not that she seemed very delicate when she was tying a bracelet of entrails around my wrist a month ago.

“Yeah, I tried that,” I mutter, eyes dropping back to my food. The orange in my hair is fading, and normally I would’ve replaced it by now. It irritates me every time I catch sight of it in the corner of my eye, and today is no different. Absently, I shove my hair back over my shoulder. That’s another problem for another day. Possibly anothermonth. Hell, the new year is coming soon. Maybe I’ll worry about it then.

She doesn’t argue. But she’s not really eating, either. While I chop at my eggs lightly, she tears up the peels of oranges with her delicate fingers while her cup of black coffee steams at her elbow. “I don’t know how you drink that.” My casual remark isall I can really think to say, and I gesture with my fork at her coffee. My own iced coffee isn’t anywhere near black. Or brown. If I was being gracious, I’d call it beige.

If I’m honest, it’s more of an off-white color from all the cream and sweetened vanilla flavor in it.

“Because I don’t like to drink my sugar.” She grins at me, taking a sip of the black coffee, then another, before dropping an ice cube in it and setting it back down on the table. “Ever had bulletproof coffee?”

“Is that where you put butter in it, like some kind of psycho?”

“That’s how Sam drinks his. Pretty sure he picked it up from Kieran, actually.” At my bemused look, she adds, “Nero,I suppose, is still the only way you know him.”

“He named himself after an awful emperor,” I remark. “Goes along with his awful taste in coffee, I guess.”

“His best friend is a Roman History professor in Ohio,” Erika snorts. “I can assure you he did it on purpose.”

Part of me wants to ask if thisbest friendknows what Nero—Sam—does in his spare time. But it’s not my business, and I’m not sure I want to open myself up for that kind of distraction from the conversation at hand. After all, any interest I have in them as a group stems from the two people I haven’t seen in a month.

The two people I really should want to get away from.

“So…” I stab my eggs again, loudly enough for thetap tap tapof metal on porcelain to be audible between us. “Are you going to tell me where they are, or am I going to have to learn how to become some sort of bloodhound?”

Erika snorts at that and finally eats a grape from her bowl of fruit. “I want to tell youno. I want to hope you’ll just go back home and be normal. You’re not like us,” she points out. “You know, none of us thought our lives would end up this way. None of us expected to be traveling around like modern nomadssetting up—” she breaks off, and a second later our tired-looking waitress reappears with another glass of chocolate milk for me, and another cup of water for Erika. We both thank her, but she barely seems to hear as she follows her pre-mapped out route to another table a few feet away.

“Well, you know.” Erika shrugs, tugging her blonde curls behind her ear. “Your hair looks awful, by the way.”

“Rude. And I’d insult you back, but…” I look her over, head resting on my hand. “You look like you were expecting better company than me.” She’s dressed for a casual, if classy, date. I’m dressed like I fumbled around for my clothes in the dark.

Her smile is sweet and free of malice, making it hard to remember she’s a murderer, just like Kieran and Val. As kind and sweet as she is, and how easy she is to be around, I won’t let myself forget that she’s not afraid to kill to protect herself or them.

And I’m not quite sure if I’m part of theusright now. It makes me choose my words with care, trying to pull the worst of my sarcasm out of my words before speaking. She can’t be much older than me, if at all, yet she’s such an unknown factor that I refuse to let myself get too comfortable.

“I’ve been trying to let it go,” I go on, finally slumping back. “I thought they’d come back, and then I was glad they didn’t. Pretty sure you know what they did. WhatIdid,” I correct, knowing I have to take some kind of responsibility if I want her to help me with what I’m asking. “I was so happy with every day that went by when they didn’t come back. For about a week, anyway.”

She doesn’t speak. Judging by the look in her big, doe-like brown eyes framed with long lashes, she’s waiting for me to go on.

And maybe I owe her that.

“But I kept trying, okay? I’ve been hanging out with my friends, working at the coffee shop…” I shrug my shoulders witha huff. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m trying to find them to, you know, do something stupid.”

“Yeah you are,” she disagrees. “Because finding them at all is the stupid part. Especially when you could just pretend they never happened. Wipe that seventy-two hours out of your head and move on.” There’s something wistful in her voice. Something almost…regretful.

I wonder if she wishes she could do the same.

“They’re fine.” Erika surveys me as she says it, scrutinizing me for any reaction. But I don’t give her one, except to chew my lower lip thoughtfully.

“Is that you telling metheywould rather I stay away?” It’s not the answer I’d expected or a possibility I’m prepared for. If they don’t want me there?—

But Erika snorts in spite of herself and offers me her first genuine smile of the morning. “Hardly. Before they left, Val was moaning and whining all over the place. Kieran had to drag him out by his shirt or he probably would’ve come to hide at your apartment. He likes your cats.” But there Erika stops and sits back. “If I don’t tell you, what will you do? If Idotell you, what then?”

The two part question catches me off guard. “If you tell me, I’m going to go find them,” I reply simply with a shrug. “If you don’t…” I trail off, because I don’tknowwhat I’ll do.

Clearly, whatever it is I’m attempting to do now without them isn’t working out. So if she won’t tell me, then I guess I’ll have to suck it up and figure out something else.

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