Page 155 of Cherish

“Does anyone know where the veranda is?” I ask loudly, determined to derail this conversation before it gets even worse. I may have started it, but enough is enough.

“Looking for some flies to catch?” Macy deadpans.

Even I have to laugh at that one. Everyone does, except Hudson, who is watching me with those oceanic eyes that have always seen too much.Soon, I promise myself as we find the door to the veranda and make our way outside. Soon, I’ll have the conversation with him that I need to have.

For now, we need to concentrate on pinning the Curator down on actual details about the location of the Bittersweet Tree and its Dew. Because there are a hell of a lot of trees in South America, and we really, really don’t have time to check every single one of them.

83

Hide and

Speak

When we get to the veranda, which has a gorgeous view of the gardens I just spent hours exploring, the Curator is nowhere to be found.

“Did we get the time wrong?” Heather asks as we all mill around the beautifully decorated table.

“No, she said two o’clock,” Jaxon tells her, checking the time on his phone. “And it’s two now.”

As if his words set something in motion, the French doors that lead to the veranda—doors we just closed behind ourselves—fly open.

Two people in black-and-white housekeeping uniforms step out, carrying huge trays filled with food—finger sandwiches, scones, pastries, fruit, and beautiful glass pitchers, some of which are filled with iced tea and others of which are filled with what I’m pretty sure is blood.

We watch awkwardly as they set the food on the table with its antique silver candleholders and elaborate bouquets of flowers. They leave as quickly as they came, without saying a word to any of us as we settle at the table. But once they’re gone, we’re left staring at one another and wondering if the Curator is going to show up or not.

“How long are we supposed to wait here?” Flint asks, and it’s hard to miss the fact that he’s sitting several chairs down from Jaxon. It’s even more impossible to miss the way he refuses to look at him, even though Jaxon keeps trying to catch his eye.

“Until she shows up?” Macy suggests, but she sounds a little doubtful at this point.

“Maybe she got an important phone call,” Heather suggests.

Jaxon runs a hand through his hair, obviously annoyed. “Or maybe she just isn’t coming. She wouldn’t be the first god to give us the runaround.”

“Speaking of her being a god…” Macy begins. “Has anyone wondered what a god called ‘the Curator’ actually collects?”

“Same,” I say, and we smack raised hands. “Movie posters?” I suggest, thinking of the posters lining the walls downstairs.

“Vampires?” Flint offers, and Jaxon stares at him, which isn’t awkward at all.

I rush to change the subject. “So, umm—”

Everyone’s phone dings, and our collective eyes widen—it must be a text from Lorelei. Pandemonium breaks out as we all fumble to get our phones out. Well, everyone except Hudson, who was already on his and thus reads the text first.

“Fook.” His accent is so thick, my stomach twists into knots.

My hand trembles as I unlock my phone and read the text myself.

LORELEI:Please hurry.

Two little words, and my heart shatters. Just breaks into a billion pieces.

Lorelei has been giving us frequent updates that Mekhi was doing fine, holding his own. But deep down, I knew he was doing worse and she didn’t want to add to our pressure unless she absolutely had to. Which means…he must be on death’s doorstep for her to sendthattext.

I stand up. “We need answers now.”

“Yeah,” Macy agrees. “But we can’t exactly hunt her down in her own house and make her talk to us.”

Hudson looks at Macy. “Are you sure about that?”

---