Foretold Read online

  Griffin nudges her leg with his foot. “Hey. That’s why we’re here. If Cassie’s aunt is right, we can take them down. For good. Right?”

  Regan nods. “Okay. But… does it seem weird to anyone else that when we saved Sid that first time, it seemed like it was this whole production? The dagger, the mask… like a ritual. And then for them to just shoot him? And why did they want to kill him at all?”

  I frown. “And if Bedlam got in the first time without help, why did they need me to bring in the eye the second time? Why not sneak in however they did before?”

  Griffin sighs loudly. “You guys are really trying to make sense out of a bunch of murdering psychos? Look, Bedlam might be a bunch of liars, but they were telling the truth that they don’t like the ICARUSS. And there wouldn’t be an ICARUSS without Ford’s work. They got caught the first time they tried to take him out and had to know he’d be guarded after that, no sneaking in and out like last time. So they figured they needed to go the bang-and-smash route the second. This isn’t rocket surgery. It's what I'd do.”

  “Rocket surgery,” I repeat, at the same time Regan says, “Because what you'd do is clearly the barometer for a healthy human mind.”

  “You called me family, by the way.” Griffin grins.

  “I meant Cassie.”

  “No returns. You’re stuck with me.”

  “Can I exchange you for a sweater? Or a pair of socks?”

  “No take backs, Egg.”

  “Egg! Where did that even come from?” Regan cries. “No wonder Donkey Laugh dumped you.”

  “Donkey Laugh! Who? Liz? She didn’t dump me. We mutually decided I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

  I smile and pull Aunt Bree’s ritual out from under my pillow. I’ve re-written it compulsively, as if good penmanship will make it all work out. I hand it over to Griffin.

  “I’ve never heard of half of this stuff. What the hell is a Grisingturn Tuning Fork?” Griffin asks.

  Regan snatches the paper from Griffin’s hands. “Oh no. This is a mess with a capital M. You need a dark mirror! Nua said the eclipse—”

  I smile again. “I took care of that. Gloaming Moon. Right before you got here. Let’s make a list of the stuff we need, and we can run it by Bacchy.”

  Griffin eyes me suspiciously. “Why are you smiling? You never smile.”

  “That’s not true. I smile,” I say, my cheeks going hot.

  “Not really. You do this.” He gives a weird twist of the lips, Mona Lisa style.

  “No, that looks like you’re about to barf. It’s more like this.” Regan gives her own imitation. Neither version is flattering.

  Griffin points at my face. “Yeah! That’s your normal look, Cassie. That frowny thing you’re doing now.”

  Regan nods.

  “So, you two decide to get along to chop on me? Nice.”

  “You do seem legit… I dunno. Lighter. What’s going on?” Regan asks.

  “Maybe she got laid,” Griffin says, grinning and spinning the desk chair around. His eyes widen as he rotates, and he slams his feet down to stop his spin. “You did!”

  “Ew, no. What’s wrong with you?” I say.

  “Oh. Em. Gee. Play by play. Now. What happened?” Regan says.

  I can see my reflection in my dresser mirror. I’m a guilty shade of hot pink. I glance at Griffin.

  “It’s just us gals here, Cassie,” he says, and rests his chin on the back of his hands and bats his eyelashes. I laugh despite myself.

  “I didn’t ‘get laid,’ you creep. I saw Colin. While I was charging the mirror. We hung out. Alright?” I purse my lips to keep embarrassment and pure glee from showing.

  “This dude?” Griffin pulls a photo booth strip of me and Colin from the corner of my mirror. “Oh man, he’s a cutie.” He looks up at Regan and me, who are staring at each other with wide eyes. “What? I can appreciate a nice-looking guy. I’m secure.”

  “I need to save him,” I say, sobering. “I have to.”

  We strategize about how to get into Fenice’s office over delivery. Griffin is getting pizza crumbs all over my bed when I hear the front door.

  Rats crawl over me in the middle of the night, brought on by Griffin’s habit of waving his food around when he talks.

  “Can you not?” I gesture at the crumbs. Griffin slides to the floor, taking his paper plate with him.

  “Hey, Cass.” Dad knocks and pokes his head in. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t know you had company here.” He opens the door fully to reveal a delighted smile, probably thinking, ‘My crazy daughter has friends again! Hooray!’

  No. Not crazy. I need to be kinder to myself, Pict said.

  “Dad, this is Griffin and Regan. Guys, this is my dad.” I’ve warned them against telling my dad anything about Theban, so they keep things nice and vague when Dad asks how we know each other. Regan’s machine-gun chatter keeps Dad from asking too much more.

  We move to the living room and share a few slices with Dad. He and Regan bond over their love of The Hunger Games, with Dad cornering her to explain the themes of the texts like a professor with a class of one. And Griffin makes Dad choke on his water with his sage advice for dealing with a particularly annoying colleague of his. “You have to weed-whack your way past the bullsh…er, crap. You know? Or just have him whacked.”

  “You guys want to come to Cassie’s birthday dinner Saturday?” Dad asks.

  Regan turns to me. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!”

  “I’ve been a little preoccupied lately,” I say drily. “It’s no big deal. I’m turning seventeen.”

  “We’d love to come, Mr. Morai!” Regan chirps.

  Griffin agrees enthusiastically. “Hells yeah! Free food!” Regan kicks his leg. “And celebrating Cassie?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Fine. I guess you guys can come.” I smile faintly.

  After we finish up and I close the door behind them, Dad’s smile nearly knocks me on my back.

  “They’re really great, Cass. I approve. I invited Mrs. O to dinner, too, by the way. Saw her the other day,” Dad says.

  “Awesome.”

  “And, ah… I invited Colin,” he says with a slight cough.

  My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I concentrate on closing the pizza box as if it’s the most complex piece of origami ever invented. I can’t tell who’s more awkward about this whole thing, but if hair blushed alongside skin, I’d be a Bacchy shade of red.

  “Oh. Okay. Um. Fun. Should be fun.”

  Chapter 23

  I peer across the street at Madame Grey’s storefront. The ancient tree in front of me should do a decent job of hiding me from view, but… I glance around nervously. The last time I tried to hide, it didn’t work out well.

  The neon sign is off.

  What the hell am I doing? This pit stop on the way to Mrs. O’s has become… what, exactly? A citizen’s arrest?

  A half-hour passes. No movement. This is so dumb.

  What if they’re in there? What are they plotting? What if they see me? What if…

  Whatever. I will not think about it. Fears and compulsions only win if I let them. I force myself into the present. This moment. What my senses are taking in now, the way Pict coached.

  I fully intend to continue on to Mrs. O’s, but my legs somehow lead me to the front of the shop. My heart pounds my ribs with such intensity it should be visible to onlookers.

  I throw the door open, and it bounces off the wall and nearly back into my face. The bells attached to the door jingle violently.

  Dust, papers, an empty space. Only the window dressings, disclaimer on the wall, and the bead curtain hanging in the doorway remain. I kick at a random takeout menu on the ground and walk farther into the room, keeping an eye on the door to ensure it’s still open. I kneel near a stack of papers.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice says. I shriek.

  Sebastian pushes through the bead curtain.

  “Oh, thank God. You scared me,” I say. “What are you d
oing here?”

  He steps into the room, eyeing the papers. He kneels and picks one up, tosses it. “That’s what I asked you. I’m trying to track down known Bedlamites. Checking this place again to see if I missed anything the first time.”

  “I—I came because everyone hates me. People got hurt because of me. I felt like I had to do something.”

  “Pretty reckless, considering you know what they’re capable of.”

  “You’re here alone, too.”

  He shrugs. “If I’m going to take over for my father one day, I need to prove myself to everyone. What’s your excuse?”

  “If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve, right?” I twist my lips into a humorless smile. “Like they did Theodore and the others.”

  He picks up another paper and skims it. “You and Theodore were close,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a question, but I answer anyway.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “He was kind. And his poor mom—he was planning on visiting her before… Aunt Bree is the worst. I don’t know why they had her call his mom.”

  “Come on. There’s nothing here. Nothing important, anyway. I’ll walk you home.” Sebastian gestures toward the door. I abandon my decision to visit Mrs. O and lead the way.

  We walk in silence for a bit, and I sneak a peek at him when he’s not looking. God, he’s just painfully handsome. His blonde hair glints gold in the fading light. He pins me with those gorgeous eyes.

  “How’s your arm?” he asks.

  “I’m fine. How’re you?”

  “I’ve been better. I’ve also been worse.”

  “Do you blame me, too?” I ask in a small voice. I don’t know why his opinion of me matters. It just does.

  “No,” he says, no hint of hesitation before his answer. “You were used. Anyone blaming you for this is an idiot.”

  “My aunt does. So do lots of other people.” We reach my block and turn the corner.

  “Like I said.”

  “Thank you. I’m a mess. I feel so…”

  “Stop it.” He turns toward me, gripping my upper arms firmly. “If I had brought that thing in, not knowing what would happen, would you have blamed me?”

  “No, of course not!”

  “So, you wouldn’t blame me, but you’ll beat yourself up for it?”

  My voice cracks as I look up at him. “I feel so sad. All of the time now.”

  He pulls me into his arms and hugs me, resting his chin on top of my head. “I know. It’s awful. But that isn’t on you, okay?”

  I nod my head, moving his chin with it. It’s probably my imagination, but it almost feels like he busses my hair with his lips. “Good. Get some rest. And when are you coming back? You’re not gone for good, right?”

  “I’ll be back in a few days.” I say goodbye and turn to mount the stairs. Colin is sitting on his stoop, watching us.

  “Hi, Colin.” It almost feels like I got caught cheating. I purse my lips. That's ridiculous. We're not even dating.

  “Hey, Cass. Roof in a few?” He says it loud, loud enough that Sebastian hears.

  Sebastian smiles at Colin, his dimple in full effect. He turns that smile on me and lifts an eyebrow as if to say, Did I get you in trouble with the boyfriend?

  “Yep,” I respond. I wave at them both and bolt inside.

  “Who was the mannequin come to life?” Colin asks. He’s sitting on the ledge, legs hanging off of the building. He flounders. I race to the ledge in time to see the look on his face as he topples over, dropping into the darkness below.

  “Come sit,” I say, pointing at his lounge chairs. I hop over the knee-wall and force myself not to panic.

  “You come sit here.” He pats the spot next to him on the ledge.

  It’s too high. Too dangerous. You’ll fall and… Screw it. I push up and swing my legs over, gripping the lip of the ledge behind me for dear life.

  “So?” Colin asks.

  “So,” I repeat.

  “Who’s the blond guy? He looked like a Calvin Klein ad. What’s his story?”

  “He’s a friend from camp,” I say.

  Colin makes a face. We’re quiet for a bit before he asks, to my everlasting shock, “Are you guys going out?”

  “What?”

  “I asked if that’s your… boyfriend, or whatever. You didn’t introduce him.”

  “Sebastian is…”

  “Sebastian? His name is Sebastian? Oh God.”

  “What’s wrong with his name? I think it’s a nice name. And he’s sweet.”

  “If you say so.” Colin snorts. “The only people named Sebastian are supervillains in comic books and crappily written love interests on fan fiction forums.”

  Colin is acting different. Off. I don’t know what his problem is, but the fact he’s giving me attitude when I’m busy trying to save his life is almost too much.

  “Yeah, and the crab from The Little Mermaid, but of course you'd cherry pick the most dramatic options. Why are you being like this?” I ask.

  “Like what?”

  “Like this.” I try to wave a hand in his direction but remember I need it to cling to my ledge perch.

  “I don’t know. Maybe because my friend avoids me, and when I finally see her, she’s with some guy she’s making eyes at and doesn’t even bother introducing me to.”

  “We hashed out that whole avoiding thing. I haven’t been avoiding you. And I wasn’t making eyes at anyone.” Why are we arguing?

  “You were. Hugging in the middle of the sidewalk and kissing.”

  “He didn’t kiss me!”

  “He kissed the top of your head,” Colin says.

  So he did do it! “Oh my God, that isn’t a kiss!”

  “Still kissing,” he says.

  “So what? I don’t get why—”

  “You don’t get why I’m all bent? For someone who knows so much about so many things, you don’t know?” He inhales, his chest puffing up, before he blows it out, his shoulders falling. “You know what, it’s fine. This is stupid. I—” He makes to move back onto the roof. I grab his sleeve, and he looks at me, his eyes big and blue as the ocean, the thoughts behind them changing like quicksilver. Oh God, what if I pull his sleeve and that puts him off balance and he falls—

  “I like you, Cass. But it’s fine. If you’re happy with—”

  “What?” I shout over him. I have no idea what is happening. My pulse races.

  “I’m not repeating it.”

  “He’s my friend. Sebastian is just a friend. We’re not—” I swallow with an effort. “Tell me. Please.”

  He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, there’s a look in them, an intense glint. “I like you. A lot. More than a lot. The day you left it felt like someone rammed a hot poker in my chest and would wiggle it around whenever I thought about you. Which was every three minutes. Because I think about you all the time when you’re not around. And when you are around, I feel like… like when a painting—the colors, the shadows, the light—when it all comes together just right. No. That’s dumb.” His voice thickens and he swallows. “I’m bad at this. But—”

  I launch myself at him, nearly sending us hurling off the ledge like lawn darts.

  My courage deserts me when my lips are a breath from his. He cradles my face. His gaze, blue fire, is trained on my mouth, and his unguarded expression tells me everything he was struggling to say with words. My breath shudders out of me as he lowers his lips to mine, inch by agonizing inch. And when he finally presses them to mine, deepens the kiss, my blood hums through my veins, and I nearly weep at the sweet relief. Then he touches his tongue to mine and all thought flies right out of my head.

  A second, a minute, a million years later, he lifts his head and beams down at me. I peek up at his handsome face and then away.

  “Hi,” I say, cringing, suddenly shy.

  “Hi,” he says, and hugs me close. “Was that your first kiss?”

  “Y—yes. Why? It was obvious?” I stammer.

  “Yeah.
”

  I suck in a sharp breath.

  He gives me a teasing grin. “I’m kid—”

  “I guess I could always get some practice in with the Calvin Klein model—”

  He has his hands cradling my face and his lips slanting on mine again before I can get Sebastian’s name out. I close my eyes and smile against his mouth.

  Later, when he lifts his head, I notice a thin streak of light threading through the black sky behind him, so bright it’s visible even with the city glare. It’s followed by another. I point the meteor shower out, try to get him to look, but he’s more interested in me. He presses his lips to mine again, and I burrow further into his arms.

  The heavens rain starlight down on us, and I can’t help but stare at Colin as if he’s retrieving them, one by one, just for me.

  Chapter 24

  “Your turn,” Dad says. He reaches for a Trivonometry card. “The word is ‘amatory.’ Good luck with this one.”

  “‘Amatory,’” I repeat. With a pang I picture Noah, awkward and sweet, in his canary yellow shirt that first day of orientation. It sounds like what he’d call a “great-grandma word.”

  “Tick tock, tick tock.” At my stern look, Dad smirks and mimes a zipper across his lips.

  “It means… well, ‘amor’ I know… so something related to love?” I respond.

  “Very impressive, Cass. Not enough to catch up, but still impressive.” Dad grins.

  I Frisbee a card at him and pick up my pint of ice cream.

  “Um. Do we, by the way, have to have a talk?” Dad says out of the blue.

  “A talk?”

  “You know. A talk.” He sounds strangled. “It occurred to me we’ve never talked about any of that stuff, and you were really young so your mom wouldn’t have before…”

  “Oh my God! No. We don’t need to…” I want to shrink and slip through the gaps in the sofa cushions.

  “I mean, you want to respect yourself and—”