Page 156 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“Everything.”
“Linsey?” she asked.
I didn’t reply. There was nothing Icouldsay. No one would believe me.
“Whatever it is,” Gams said, “whether it’s Linsey, your interview, all this Riley nonsense, or even a small summer sickness, you are your mother’s daughter, and she is mine. And I know you are just as capable at kicking lawn gnomes as she is. You are strong. You will be okay.”
The tears fell harder. She didn’t know how wrong she was, and yet I wrapped her words around me like a shield. I didn’t feel capable of kicking anything, let alone lawn gnomes, but if Ferrin came to my world, I would make sure he lived to regret it.
“Would you like me to call your mom?” Gams asked softly. “She’s probably awake by now because of the time zones.”
I shook my head.
“No,” I croaked. “This is good.”
And I let my grandmother hold me there on Liam’s bed.
Liam walked us home to Gams’s apartment and fell asleep on the couch for the night. I paced the confines of my room. There had to be a way back to Skalterra. Therehadto be.
“Ciarán?” I hissed into the dark. He’d said he’d been unable to pull me to Skalterra before, but maybe without Galahad, he’d be able to do it. “Ciarán, please!”
There was no response, and I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling until the sky outside lightened and filtered in through my curtains.
I could at least take comfort in the fact that Ciarán knew Ferrin’s end goal. He didn’t need my warning to do whatever he needed to do to stop the Frozen God from being released. Besides, he’d probably lord it over me that he’d been the good guy this entire time.
I held my pillow over my face.
It didn’t matter that Ciarán was an ass. He’d been right and good, and I wanted to be there to help him stop Ferrin.
And I would make sure I found a way.
I’d slept nearly the entire day before, but standing behind the register a few short hours later in Gams’s shop, I felt dead on my feet. While my body had slept, I hadn’t had real rest in over twenty-four hours.
Liam’s haggard expression reflected mine from across the store. Guilt forced me to look away. He’d been too busy fussing over my unconscious body to sleep much the evening before, and I’d taken up his bed space. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have slept anyway with Riley’s memorial so fresh.
The bell over the shop door rang out, and I jumped to attention with my heart beating in my throat. Every sudden sound and every sudden movement convinced me that this was it. This was the moment Ferrin came barreling through the Rift.
However, it was only Stanley, the banker from the next town over, surveying the chicken options to add to his ever-growing collection.
“Still all blue, then.” He frowned.
“All the best artists go through phases.” I rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my hand as I leaned against the bulletin board behind me. Usually I’d worry about smudging my make-up, but I hadn’t felt like putting any on after looking in the mirror and noticing there were hardly any eyelashes left for me to slather with mascara.
“Can’t say I’ve been too fond of this color lately.” Stanley picked up a chicken to turn in his hands.
“They’re Von Leer colors. Gams thinks if she paints every chicken blue, the university will have to take me off the waitlist.”
Stanley gave me a sympathetic smile.
“In that case, I’ll happily make an exception for the color blue today.” He chose three chickens off the shelf and carried them to the register. “Could you wrap them for me?”
I bent down to grab the tissue paper from the shelf beneath the register, and straightened up to survey the chickens Stanley had selected this time.
One was a solid blue with a bit of white swirled through the glaze like hazy clouds. Another was several shades of blue painstakingly painted into a plaid pattern, and the third—
I froze with my eyes on Stanley’s hands. He held them at the lip of the counter, tapping out a listless beat while he waited.
It was a particularly hot morning, and while he usually wore the sleeves of his button-up down to his wrists, today he’d rolled them to his elbows.
