Page 56 of Heathens
“Okay,” I utter. Until now, I was scared to reveal the darkest parts of me to the lightest person I’d ever known. I was terrified he’d run away, cut me out of his life, and I’d lose the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.
Instead, he took hold of that darkness—the one that overtook me at times—and swallowed it.
Swallowed it whole.
“I want to help you find Evelyn. And,” he pauses, hissing and looking away, an angry cloud rattling through him, “I want to make Auguste pay. For what he did to you. I know it might be sinful, but sometimes being a decent human being means stopping the truly evil people in sinful ways.”
And then he tells me everything.
About the phone call last night.
About Monaco, and how he’s scheduled to fly out with Auguste next week.
About the money—which he shows me.
“I’m donating it all to organizations that will help fight human trafficking,” he says quickly.
I smile. Of course he is.
“He won’t get away with it any longer.” He takes a step closer. “I will make sure of it.”
His words cleave me in half. I sit down on his bed... and I cry. The bed sags with his weight, and I feel him pull me into him. Shaking, I let it all out.
Two and a half years.
That’s how long I’ve been alone, waiting for a break, waiting for my friend to come back to me. And now I have an ally, a partner in crime.
Someone who understands.
Someone who can help me, whowantsto help me.
“We’re going to figure out a way to get her back. I promise you, Lily.”
Sniffing, I nod. “What if she’s—”
“Shh. Don’t think like that.” He hugs me closer. “I’m going to help you. Everything is to our advantage, Lily. Don’t you see? Auguste thinks I’m his doting student. He’s comfortable confiding in me.” He strokes my hair, and I feel his heartbeat quicken. “Are you up for playing a little game?”
Pulling away, I look at him, my cheeks wet and my eyes blurred with tears. “What do you mean?”
He just smiles.
And I can’t help but meet his smile with a grin of my own.
We all have a little bit of lightness and a little bit of darkness within us. I think back to that first night—the night I met Salem. He was so quick, so convincing. Like he’d been playing games his whole life. As he stands and begins to count the tainted cash, readying it for a donation, I realize that maybe he didn’t have to reach that deep to bring that darkness to the surface. Maybe it’s always been there, and it took being near me to bring it out in him—like a matchstick sitting too close to the flame.
Maybe I really am a she-daemon—casting my spell on humankind, on Salem. Perhaps my namesakewasa bad influence.
A bearer of hell and fire and bad omens.
Salem looks at me from where he stands at his desk, a mask of wicked delight on his face.
Or maybe we’re both just a couple of heathens.
II
Sister Marietta is a Prude
Lily
