Page 172 of Chalk Outline
A joker.
“If I flip all these cards around, you will see that each one is a joker,” she smiles, facing them up one by one. “The thing with jokers is that they’re unreliable. Unpredictable. Some individuals aspire to become one because it makes them look… entertaining. Crazy. Tricky. Out of reach. Homicidal sociopaths. But in reality, we all need a brilliant disguise—a recognizable one that will deliver the message.”
True.
Jokers carry the element of chance and surprise.
“So, what kind of a joker are you?” I ask playfully, my eyes locked on hers. Romina Bishop can be all of them without batting an eyelash.
“Which one are you?”
My eyes widen as I search for mischief in her eyes. “So what is the punishment?”
She sighs. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
I glance around me again.
Reeve’s silver ring rests among the tall blades of grass. He hasn’t taken that ring off the entire time we’ve been here. I pick it up and notice a carving on the inside.
Sweet Death, I’m coming to collect my reward.
Confusion floods me, and a restless feeling stirs in my stomach.
I’ve seen those words before and heard them coming from his mouth, and I wish they didn’t feel so ominous and dark right now because they seem to take on a new meaning—sacrifice.
Knowing Reeve, he always seems to know something I don’t, yet he constantly leaves a trail of clues and coded words behind him.
What are you up to?
The keys hanging from the necklace around my neck jingle as I straighten up. My fingers instinctively reach up to rub them.
I run back to our camp. Carefully, I remove the moth from the duffel bag, place it on the ground, and then stuff our things inside. I sling it over my shoulder and head back to my tower.
I wave off the buzzing sound next to my ear and shake my head from side to side. I hike up the mountain, hoping I’m going in the right direction. Rows of trees pass me by as I push forward.
Nerves twist inside me.
I’m worried about Reeve and terrified I might get lost when he needs me most.
Something buzzes near my ears again, and I wave it away. The sting that comes afterward stops me in my tracks. My hand jerks up to cover my neck.
Bees.
My EpiPen is in Reeve’s thigh bag.
I walk past the trap Reeve set for me. Leaves and grass crunch under my boots as I rush to the tower. I have a short window before my allergy worsens.
Sprinting up the incline with short breaths, I finally see the tower coming into view.
I’m almost hyperventilating.
My throat tightens.
The waves crash against the rocks as I tilt my gaze downward.
Where does it end?
My head is spinning.
