Page 69 of Starve
The drive takes me the better part of forty-five minutes. This late at night, I don’t expect to hit any traffic once I turn onto the winding mountain road, and I don’t. But I still have to be careful not to drive myself off a cliff.
Leaving Moro at home was hard. She so obviously wanted to come, even though she’s drowsy from her pain meds and very clearly still hurting. But I gently explained to her that she needs a day off from being the fierce protector, then I closed the door in her face.
Like a monster.
I’ll cook her a hot dog,I tell myself as I get closer to the top of the hill. At the last minute, however, I pull off the road instead of driving all the way to the parking lot of the old asylum. I don’t want to announce my arrival if I’m not alone. I doubt Cairo would appreciate it, for one, and in case there’s something else here, I’d rather not be seen straight away.
“Fuck, please don’t let this be the worst idea I’ve ever had,” I murmur, turning off the engine of my car. Getting out, I jam my keys into my pocket, but I keep my phone in my hand. With the clouds from the storm lingering, it’s almost completely dark out here on the mountain. This definitely feels like an awful idea, even as I tone down the light of my phone and drag my hood up over my head.
But I refuse to suggest I should’ve stayed home. I willnotstay home when he’s doing something potentially dangerous. Even though I have no idea what sort of help I could be.
“Well, it’s probably not your best.” The amused, dry voice practically makes me levitate, and I whirl around with my light up, looking back toward my car. My heart lurches at the glare of light in the person’s eyes, when I know for a fact it isn’t Cairo.
“Agatha?!” I gasp, dropping the light so it’s not reflecting in her eyes.
“Whatisthe plan exactly?” she drawls, still leaning there, barefoot and dressed in a mid-thigh length dark dress with a handkerchief hem skirt. It looks old, easily from at least a decade ago, but who am I to question her fashion choices, when my closet is full of hoodies, leggings, and sweats?
“I don’t know. Umm…” I glare down at the ground, though I do surreptitiously look around, just in case other cursed are in the area. “It depends on whether I’m even in the right place. I guess judging by your being here, I am?”
She doesn’t answer the question, though I hear her shift a little, and I wonder if the noise is for my benefit, since she hadn’t made a sound approaching me. “Not everyone here is afraid of him, little bird. There are some who would kill you just to see him hurt.”
“Like Tyler?”
Again she doesn’t answer, and I add quietly, “But you aren’t afraid of him either.” And yet, I know what I saw before. Tylerisafraid of Agatha, and Cairo at the very least respects her. I have so many questions for and about her, but none of them matter right now when my priority is Cairo and making sure he’s okay.
And if I’m honest with myself, being nosy about what he’s doing, and where he fits in up here with the others. “How many of you are there?”
“In the world? I have no idea. We become territorial after it happens. In these mountains…?” she trails off, but when I look at her, she looks contemplative, rather than like she’s ignoring me. “More than twenty. Less than fifty. There are some I haven’t seen in years, decades, but that doesn’t mean they’re dead.”
“Decades?”But I shut up, remembering suddenly what Dr. Radley said about both Cairo and Tyler. They’ve been here fordecades.
So what does that make Agatha?
I definitely don’t have the courage to ask, and I don’t know how forthcoming she’s willing to be. But my light catches a small, crooked grin on her lips and the flash of fang, before she says, “Maybe I’ll tell you a story about it soon.” Who knows whensoonis, though.
A long, keening howl followed by shrieks somewhere in the distance makes me jerk around, and I shine my flashlight into the darkness of the trees, as if that’ll do me any good. When I turn around again, a yelp escapes me, and I stumble backward from Agatha, who’s suddenly right there. She reaches out to steady me, gripping my forearm, and stares at me while I catch my balance.
“Don’t go that way. As soon as any of them see you, they’ll stop. Cairo will make you leave. So come on.” Her clawed fingers slide down my arm, to my wrist, and finally twine with mine. With a small tug, she pulls me after her, following an invisible path through the trees that takes us further into the darkness.
My phone light is nothing out here, and only good enough to illuminate the space where I’m going to take my next step. Agatha is graceful and confident. Even barefoot, she never steps wrong once. It seems instinctual for her to dodge around obstacles without looking like she’s doing so.
I could never be like her, and it makes me a little envious. How old is she, and how long has she been wandering these mountains, for her to look like such a natural part of them? Her dress never catches on anything, and I swear it’s almost like watching her glide through the woods with consideration for my clumsiness and the way I stumble over everything that doesn’t dare touch her or get in her way.
She stops suddenly, so fast that I nearly run into her. Her arm keeps me up, and I can see her glance back at me before she puts a hand over mine that grips my phone.
“Light off, little bird. Or everyone will know you’re here before we take another few steps.” When I hesitate, she adds, “Trust me. I’ll keep you from falling off a cliff.” Her words are teasing, but that doesn’t make me feel better. If any of the cursed are masters of sounding however they want to, it’s definitely Agatha.
But I don’t have another choice. I suck in a breath of air and turn off my phone light, putting it in my pocket with a small sigh. “Okay.” When I do that and she takes my hand again, I’m left completely at her mercy to take me where I need to be.
Thankfully, she really doesn’t throw me off the mountain. My steps are loud compared to her silent ones, and all I can do is count them one by one in the dark, surrounded by the trees pressing against me like reaching hands.
“Can you really see like this?” I murmur, as quietly as I can manage. “Even though it’s pitch black?”
“Better than you can see in the light,” Agatha whispers in reply. A few more steps shows that we’re closer to Bluebone Ridge than I thought we were, but we’re in the woods along the back courtyard, where I was unable to watch Jeremy ignoring and neglecting Moro on my second day here. Belatedly, I realize that we’re not far from the small garden shed where I read about the accidents, but I no longer need old newspapers to tell me what’s going on out here.
Agatha tugs me down beside a fallen tree, where I have just enough space between limbs to see the people in the courtyard, but not enough to really tell what’s going on in the corners. “There,” she murmurs, directing me with a motion toward the stairs. I have to move a little bit, but when I can finally see clearly, I find Cairo at the top of the stairs, leaning against the empty doorframe as he surveys the others in the courtyard.
There’s something different about him here. Something unapproachable and cold as he stands at the top of the stairsjust watching. The others must all be cursed as well. They look human, or nearly. Many of them aren’t wearing anything at all, and some of them snarl or sneer at each other.
