Page 53 of Heathens
Excitement courses through me. Maybe Father Monsignor is here—maybe I can finally meet the infamous, wise old man that Salem admires.
Strutting toward the voices, I find myself smiling before slowly pushing the door to an office open. Salem is standing on one side of the room, his arms crossed and his face anguished. And on the other side of the room...
My smile drips off of my face.
I back away as if I were burned, like the door is molten lava.
No.
No.
It’s him.
Auguste Martin.
Before I can process anything else, my eyes wander down the white robe, and then Salem. I take a step back and the door creaks. Salem’s eyes find mine.
He takes a step toward me, ignoring Auguste’s low murmurs.
Guilt.
I don’t take my eyes off—
Him.
The room tilts as I realize Auguste Martin is Father Monsignor.
Salem’s mentor.
I want to strangle him. He still hasn’t seen me, lurking in the shadow of the door, but I could use that to my advantage.
I could kill him.
Where is she where is she where is she—
Choking back a sob, I slowly back away from the door, turning around running, running, running...
My boots thump against the stone floor, but I just need to get away from them, away from Salem and Father Monsignor...
Not Father Monsignor...
Auguste Martin.
Once I pass the first guard—who lets me out of the door quickly—I ignore the second guard and burst through the gate and out onto the courtyard.
My stomach curdles, heaving, as I bend over and dry heave.
Salem.
He looked ... No. He looked guilty.
He ... knew?
No. It can’t be.
Is Salem a part of it? Is he... is he working with Auguste?
“Lily!” Salem’s voice sounds desperate, and I see him through the gate as he pushes through the door. “Please, wait,” he yells.
