Page 110 of Into the Dark, We Go
"I don’t know. To confuse us?"
"We’re already plenty confused."
We sat in silence for a few moments, thinking.
"What if Nick’s Mom stole it from Robert, and he killed her?" June suddenly suggested. "She was a psychic, right? Maybe she, like Mathilda, wanted the book for her witchy stuff."
As simplistic as June’s theory sounded, it was the most plausible explanation, and it accounted for Nick’s Mom’s involvement.
"Then, shouldn’t Nick have it?" Mitch asked carefully, avoiding looking at me.
A firm yet cautious knock cut through our debate, and my heart flipped. Nick burst through the door as soon as Mitch unlocked it, his eyes scanning me from head to toe with an intensity that felt like a searchlight. The next moment, his hands cradled my face, and the tender gesture brought tears to my eyes. The scent of his cologne combined with his worry made me feel exposed and vulnerable.
"Show me," he demanded.
I complied, turning my back to him and lifting my shirt. With everyone in the room having seen me undressed by now, modesty was no longer my concern. June gently peeled back the bandage, revealing the full extent of the injury.
"Holy shit," Nick muttered, snapping a photo with his phone. "Sorry, I just want it for reference. So I don’t have to make you uncomfortable again."
I pulled my shirt back down as June finished reapplying the bandage, then turned to face Nick.
Seeing him so concerned broke the last of my composure, and I crumbled into sobs.
"I don’t want to die," I whispered through my tears.
"You’re not going to," Nick said firmly. "We’ll find it."
Mitchell leaned forward, his eyes locked on Nick’s. He cleared his throat, a brief hesitation before his words came out in a low, serious tone.
"We think your mother might have stolen it from Robert. That’s why he killed her. That must be it."
Nick’s eyes narrowed. "And?"
"She would’ve been the last one to have it," Mitchell pressed on.
"I already went through all her stuff after she died. I’d have remembered something like that showing up," Nick snapped, his voice taking on a defensive edge. "And if your theory’s right, Robert should have it."
"He doesn’t," I interjected quickly.
"Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure," I muttered, wincing at the memories. "They beat me up, trying to get me to tell them where it is. If they had it already, they wouldn’t have bothered."
"How can we be sureyoudon’t have it?" Mitchell interrupted.
Nick’s anger flared like a spark. "You think I’d just lie about having it and come here to watch Nell—" He caught himself mid-sentence, his face shifting from indignation to guilt, as if the very thought was too painful to consider.
I knew Nick. He’d always been sincere with me, open in a way that made it impossible to doubt his intentions. If he had the grimoire, he would never keep it from me. There was no reason to question his word now.
The siblings must have reached the same conclusion because June turned to Nick. "Okay, so where do we look?"
Mitchell leaned back, arms crossed. "My plan is to track down Robert and get some answers outta him. Maybe we don’t even need that book. I bet these guys know how to reverse this thing."
His unspoken ‘if it’s even real’ lingered in the air like a challenge. Still, I appreciated that he was willing to entertain the possibility and was on board with the plan.
"I doubt it," Nick countered. "He’d sooner die than talk."
"Why’s that?" Mitchell asked.
