Page 6 of Worship

“Stop.”

“Stop what, Miss Adams?”

“Calling me that!” I shout, shuddering from the boom of my own voice. “You’re dead. I saw you leave with Nicolas. He had blood on his clothes.Yourblood.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m very much here, aren’t I?” He stands then. “Tomorrow, we will have a proper meeting. Six o’clock, evening time.”

I glare at him heatedly, something inside of me snapping. “Screw you. I don’t know how you’re here, but you’re not taking me back to Blake. Not this time.”

“Be ready at eight.” With one last prolonged stare, he moves past me and walks out, leaving the door wide open for the fall chill to come inside from the hallway and wrap around my body. My mind reels. Oh, how the tables turn, and keep on turning.

Who knew it was the dead I should have been looking out for. Not the living.

* * *

Gabriella’s facecrumbles with disgust as she takes a tiny, reluctant sip from a white foam cup. It’s filled with cheap,soul-blackcoffee. And she forgets she used to be as cheap—probably why she pulled the face.

She loathes it here. Detests sitting at the greasy, plastic tables on the uncomfortable chairs. Nothing but judgment plasters her face whenever there’s a scream from a recovering addict begging for a hit like she’s never once screamed for it.Probablystill does.

I’m not sure why she’s here and wish she would go away. Milton was here yesterday when he’s supposed to be dead. I need to try and pull together some semblance of understanding as to how that’s possible. When I saw him last, he was being led away by Nick on Blake’s orders. Forced to take the long, condemned road to the Hill. As anyone who goes up there never comes back down.

Having not slept, I’m too tired to deal with Gabriella, assuming she needs to discuss something that requires orderlies at the ready and a table separating us. Not that I care what she is about to break to me now. Her flair for the dramatics is irritating, given the more important things going on.

“Poor Ashley had to go home. Her father has taken ill.” Putting the cup down, she flips open her purse and ruffles inside. Pulling out a compact mirror and a tube of lipstick, she takes the lid off and smears it over her lips. An expensive shade ofbitch. “It’s such a shame. I thought she was finally making progress with you.” After she’s done, she finally makes eye contact with me. “Lawrence thinks you shouldn’t come to the wedding.”

Finally.The actual reason why she’s come.

I’m not surprised. I expected it after Lawrence’s reaction at the house. Still, that doesn’t stop the pang of misery that spreads through my chest and stabs me deep inside. It’s closely followed by a wave of hatred at myself for caring. Forfeeling. “Oh.”

She plays with her necklace—a nervous habit. Or not. I know she’s enjoyingthis deep down in her dead heart. “Yes, and not to the house anymore either. At least, not for a while.” Her left eye unmistakably twitches, revealing the lie.Shedoesn’t want me there, probably because Lawrence is one step away from learning her secrets. “It’s too stressful and putting an awful strain on our marriage. Not that you care.” Sniffling, despite her eyes being dry, she leans forward. “Nothingwas there when I checked the surveillance. No one broke into the house. You say it was Blake, but he doesn’t know about the baby. It’simpossible.”

I shift restlessly at the mention of his name out loud. “It washim.”

“Itwasn’t,” she snaps. “Lawrence believes you brought the coffin into the house yourself after Elise announced her engagement, and I’m inclined to agree.”

“When do you suppose I had time to do that? And wouldn’t the driver remember if I asked him to take a detour to the graveyard so I could dig up my dead baby? God forbid you to believe the truth for once.”

“Do not talk to me like—” Her body flinches as I abruptly stand, like she’s expecting me to reach out and smack her. I bet she wants me to. Mark her face, so she has something to show off in front of the cameras. I walk away instead, knowing she doesn’t deserve the energy. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“Don’t walk away from me!” she yells angrily. “Heidi!”

Chapter Four

Four Years Ago

Trailing my finger lightly over the ink engraved along my sister’s skin, I admire the sizable black skull hauntingly shaded in the middle of her spine. Red roses surround a ghostly face—disturbing and beautiful andverypermanent.

“Did it hurt?” I ask, amazed she got a tattoo despite Mom banning her when she asked if she could get one a few weeks ago.

Only whores get tattoos,she had said.Noway!

“Like a bitch,” Nicole grunts, leaning upon her elbows to take a pull from the cigarette between her fingers. My nose wrinkles, hating the smell. “For a freebie, it’s not bad, is it?”

Some guy from her group of friends gave her a tattoo. Being seventeen and needing parental permission, he offered one for free, under the condition that he could tattoo whatever he wanted on her skin as a piece for his portfolio. She jumped at the opportunity and was gone all last night, sneaking back in during the early hours this morning while I was pretending to be asleep. “Why did you get it there?”

“Why do you think?” she scoffs. “You know Gabriella would have a seizure if she found out I got a tattoo. Put this on for me, would you?”

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