Page 43 of Splitting Secrets
Once the message is sent, I release a long breath. “I haven’t even told you the worst part.”
She scowls. “What could be worse than this?”
“I told the Ellery girl about the key this afternoon. She’s escaped the cells.”
“Raze Anthony Whitlock,” she scolds, her face taking on a brand new level of fury. “You had no right to do that.”
“They were going to die down there if we didn’t get them out soon. Look at Matilda.” I point to the dead body lying before us to prove my point. “That was completely unprovoked.”
“What do you mean ‘them’?” she prods, never one to miss the small details.
Swallowing, I tilt my chin toward the trees and beg whoever is up above to grant me the strength to get through telling my mother what I’ve done without her whooping my ass for it like the pathetic, grown man-child that I am. “As it turns out, the girl was unwilling to leave without her friends. She broke them out with her. All four of them are staying in the cabin.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she pinches the bridge of her nose in a move I realize I’ve learned from her. Obviously, Sonny’s stubborn tenacity doesn’t impress her as much as it did me.
“We had a timeline set.” Every word is enunciated with one hand slamming against the other. “They were going to be out of there soon enough,” she seethes.
Straightening my shoulders, I shake my head in the negative. “You didn’t see them. They weren’t going to make it, and I made the judgment call to get her out. It wasn’t worth the risk of losing her altogether.”
That, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of her spending one more night locked away once I saw her condition under those fluorescent lights this afternoon. No one treats the people I care about that way.
“Then, I hope you’re willing to back that up with the rest of the movement because they’re going to be angrier than I am. They aren’t ready to take them in.”
“They’ll get over it once they realize how valuable she is. She’s shown traits of Luminara on top of Valeria and Aeternum. It’s only a matter of time before the others manifest. She’s the real deal—exactly what we’ve been waiting for. I think we canhandle a few small adjustments to accommodate her. Especiallythem.”
“That’s a problem for another day,” my mother huffs, staring back down at Matilda’s still form.
August finds us less than ten minutes later and the three of us decide that it would probably be best if we buried her body off Ravenshurst property. Thankfully, he’s able to help me carry her through the woods and into my trunk, since neither of them is allowed to bring their cars on campus, anyway. They load into my backseat, and we drive out to the edge of Nocturne Valley, then pull off into a random hiking trail and August gets to work laying the only woman to rest.
23
Sonny
It’s nearly three in the morning and sleep hasn’t found me yet, despite the exhaustion weighing me down.
The others have been asleep for hours. Evidently, my racing mind is more powerful than physical fatigue. We each took turns quickly washing ourselves off in the shower after Raze left, careful not to take too much hot water before the next person got a chance to bathe. A scalding hot bath would have been preferable for my aching bones and numb toes, but there will be time for that later.
I’m trying to decide whether maybe sleephastaken me under when a glowing figure appears at the edge of my bed. It starts off dim, then slowly brightens and morphs into a human-like form, just as Finley had done in the dungeons. This one is different from Finley, though. Smaller, and slightly lighter in color.
It’s a little boy.
Not justanylittle boy, I realize.
It’s Bane Whitlock.
“You’re in my parent’s bed,” he greets, pointing his finger directly at my lying form.
“A-am I?” I stutter out, sitting up on my elbows.
I try to keep my movements slow as my mind desperately fights against the fear of speaking to a ghost. At least when Finley came, I thought he was fake.
The realization that this is truly the spirit of a dead little boy sends chills down my spine.
“You’re the nightmare girl.” He moves closer, rounding the foot of the bed to stand at my side.
“Nightmare girl?” I repeat, horrified. What could make a ghost thinkI’mthe nightmare?
“That’s what Raze calls you,” he explains, keeping his gaze tied to the part of my blanket that he’s fidgeting with instead of making eye contact.
