Chapter 38: Chapter 38

I reach the wall, stop, turn, retrace my steps, frown at Delia as I pass her, frown at Maeve’s glassy stare. Another crash, this one hard enough that it rattles the angels we’ve set out along the wall.

Their wings chink together like ice in glasses of lemonade, and the sound makes me think of that hammock on my da’s porch, and my dream of Coby and me together on an endless summer afternoon. What I wouldn’t give to be able to lie down and disappear now, vanish back to that dream and that porch and that hammock, his hands on my body, his lips on my skin.

Another shout from the kitchen below—McBane’s voice. Please, Coby.I’m not sure what I’m even asking for here, but that doesn’t stop me from praying. Please.

* * * *