Page 41 of Deadly Sacrifice

He gives me this weird expression. Kind of amused, kind of shocked, but either way, he decides to trust me. We settle in for the next ten minutes, giving the librarian plenty of time to grab her things and leave.

***

Slamming the book closed, I lean my head back with an overly dramatic groan, but honestly, what the hell? Griffin keeps bringing me books — per my request — and I’ve been scanning through them, but there’s nothing useful. Nothing that ties in with The Celestials or even gives me a hint for where I should look next.

“I’m going to die here, in this library,” I whine. “My headstone will say ‘RIP Prudence Cate Sexton. Her brain dried up from all the useless books she read’.”

Griffin breathes out a silent laugh. He shakes his head at me as he sits at the table we’re set up at. He picks up one book, then the next, tossing each one in a pile at the end of the table. You won’t find shit in these, he signs.

I blink at him, trying not to lunge across the table and slap him for being so damn helpful. “You could have told me that sooner,” I say dryly.

He gives me this face, like I’m unbelievable, and damn it all to hell, it makes me laugh a little. Have I not tried to stop you from reading this crap from day one? You don’t listen well. You told me so yourself. He honestly looks affronted, and that only makes me laugh even more.

I think I’m half delirious from a long day, a longer night, and finding absolutely nothing that helps me get closer to Mom’s truth.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m stubborn to a fault.” I grimace, though it’s totally half-assed, and Griffin’s growing smile tells me he knows. My playful mood plummets just as soon as it came, though. I huff out a frustrated breath when Griffin gathers the pile of thick books and stands to go put them back. “How am I supposed to find anything, then?” I say softly, wondering if coming to Blackwood University and dealing with Asher and Creed has all been for nothing. If my quest to give my mom some peace has been a waste of my time.

Griffin comes back and collapses into his seat. He takes his curly hair out of the bun and scrubs his hand over his head before collecting the golden locks and tying them up again. His eyes look tired when he meets my gaze. They’ve been running in secret for decades. No evidence, no paper trails. The only way you’ll find anything substantial is from the inside, but again, I’m going to warn you that this is dangerous. For both of us.

I narrow my eyes in thought, peeking at him while my mind turns. “How do you know so much about this? And why did they try to kill you?” I wonder, trying to rack my brain for any explanation he could have given me. But from the start, that first night he found me in the library, Griffin has just been aware of the stars. He hasn’t explained anything beyond that, really.

He sighs, leaning forward like he needs to be discreet even though we’re alone. His eyes cut right through me and hold me hostage as he signs, Been here in Black Creek all my life. You hear rumors, same as any other place.

Arching a brow, I cross my arms over my chest and say, “Sure. Rumors about some super hush-hush cult that you’ve admitted is completely untraceable. That’s believable.” I hold his gaze for another moment. “That doesn’t tell me why you got that scar.” I nod down at his neck, and the scar sitting just above the hem of his shirt.

Griffin rolls his eyes, dropping his gaze.

Guess I’m not getting that answer tonight.

“Okay, so take them down from the inside,” I say, changing the subject before I push too far. “How do I do that? Where would I even start?” I chew on the inside of my cheek, waiting for him to answer, but then I quickly add, “I know they’re somehow connected to this school; Mom told me as much. But where’s my way in? It’s not like people are walking around here wearing sweatshirts for The Celestial fan club or anything. That would sure as hell make this easier.”

Griffin’s lips tick up into a soft smile as he shakes his head. Either at me or agreeing with me, I can’t really be sure.

“I don’t even care about the danger,” I blurt out, continuing my frantic thoughts aloud. “I just need… God, I just need answers. I need to know the truth.”

Griffin licks his lips, a crease on his forehead. Why is it so important to you? he asks me.

I study him for a moment, considering how much to tell him. I mean, we’ve made it this far, why shouldn’t I trust him with this? But at the same time, what has he told me? He’s been a friend, he’s offered to help, but what has he really told me about this secret world and his connection to it? Nothing.

“Why did they try to kill you?” I counter, pleading with my eyes for raw honesty. Friendship is a two-way street, after all. If I spill my guts, will he leave me in a bloody mess on the ground? Or will he share his secrets too?

I watch his throat work through a rough swallow. After another heavy breath, Griffin signs, I saw something I shouldn’t have.

I perk up in my seat, leaning forward on my elbows. “How? Where? Maybe that’s my way in? If you saw some of the members doing shady shit, you could just give me their names, and I’ll find my way from there. You don’t even need to get involved.”

Griffin frowns deeply, searching my eyes before scrubbing a hand down his face. Not tonight. Please.

I almost press the issue, but something about the look in his eyes tells me he’s not at all ready to talk about what happened to him. And as much as I’m desperate for answers, I really do understand that feeling. I can sympathize with the pain written on his face.

“Okay. Well…” I look around the empty library and huff out a tired breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

We pack up, sneak back out and start the walk home. My eyeballs are dry and heavy from scanning so many books and coming up with nothing helpful, and I feel a headache coming on.

Something about Griffin feels… I don’t know, off. Not only did I scare the poor guy half to death earlier, but then I brought up how he almost died, and now he’s weird and I feel like an ass.

While we’re walking back to Greek row, I blurt out, “My mom is schizophrenic. She got diagnosed when I was little.”

Griffin’s long strides slow a bit as he frowns at me, and the pity shining in his eyes is almost enough to make me regret bringing this up. But It’s not fair for me to ask questions about his scar and how he’s so aware of The Celestials if I’m only sharing half-truths and loose lies.

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