Page 89 of The Price of Mercy
I want to ask what she means—what could possibly have possessed her to care this much about a brother she hasn’t seen in years—but that must be the reason. They’ve been separatedfor God knows how long, and she blames herself for that distance.
“It’s not your fault, Mercy.”
She doesn’t hear me. By the time I say anything, she’s already slipped into the darkness, leaving me behind to come up with a plan on my own. I scan the room for a weapon before I remember that I have one clipped to my belt. Brandishing my knife, I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn on its flashlight.
It’s not a plan that propels me through the shadows after Mercy.
It’s the hammer of my heartbeat in my ears and the way Kane’s voice echoes in my head.
You freak out when things don’t go as planned. But that’s life. You’ve just gotta have faith.
I take a deep breath and taste stale air on my tongue. The voices at the bottom of the stairs grow louder, and I catch a glimpse of Mercy’s red laces as she scurries down the stairwell in front of me.
Faith got me into this mess, and I hope that faith is what’s going to get me out of it.
Chapter 35
Mercy
A flickering lightat the bottom of the stairs sends shivers down my spine. When we were children, Malachi and I used to lock each other in dark rooms and closets, cackling as the other would get scared and cry. It was mainly me doing the crying; Malachi never minded the dark, and he’d often sit in silence with the shed door unlocked while I picked dandelions among the graves. This feels different. We’re not picking on each other, and he didn’t tell me he was going to the cellar, he just… Left.
On his own.
I haven’t seen him in at least a year—maybe two, even—and spoken to him very little since. I don’t know what’s rumbling inside his head: his own voice, or the ones that tell him to fight demons no one else can see?
Cobwebs stick to my arms as I descend, and it’s like I’m stepping into the past, my buckled shoes and frilled socks pitter-pattering down the stone steps as I catch my brother playing where he shouldn’t.
But then I hear Zane’s footfalls behind me, and my nerves settle as I feel the length of my limbs, the brush of my hair against my elbows, and the heavy beat of my heart poundinginside my ribcage. I’m not a child anymore, and I’m not afraid of the dark.
Nor am I alone. Zane is right behind me, trudging down the stairs at a slower pace, and a twinge of guilt nearly makes me stop and beg him to turn around. He doesn’t have to follow me into a dark, dank cellar to save my brother; he can wait at the top of the stairs where it’s safe.
“Zane—“
“Keep moving, Mercy.” He places a gentle hand on my lower back. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He keeps his touch light as we descend together, popping out at the bottom to find ourselves at the only exit for a crowded, musky room.
It’s smaller than I remember.
That could be the four grown men standing around glaring at each other, or it could be that the ceiling nearly touches the top of Sam’s head, dusty cobwebs sticking to his hair like lint.
Our eyes meet, and he takes a shallow breath. “What are you doing here, Mercy?” Stepping over to me, he places his hand on my elbow and leads me to the corner of the room, away from the makeshift gentleman’s club. Touching my face, he scans my body like he’s checking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
I roll my eyes despite the way my heart trembles beneath his touch. “I’m fine, but you guys can’t be in here. It’s not safe.”
His jaw clenches. “That’s whyyoushouldn’t be here.”
“Why are you the exception?” I poke his chest. “What are you even doing down here? Where’s—” I glance over his shoulder to find my brother holding a lit taper candle, the wax dripping onto his hand. “What’s going on?” I listen close as Zane and Kane talk in hushed whispers, the two of them quickly glancing back at me.
Oh, please.
Pushing Sam away from me, I walk over to them. “What the hell are you two plotting—” I step in something wet and slide onthe damp floor, gasping as I bump into Kane. He grabs me and holds me steady. “Shit, guys, there’s gotta be mold down here?—”
“Shhh,” Kane murmurs, pressing a finger to my lips. “You’ll interrupt the show.”
“What show?”
While Zane turns my head, Kane bands an arm around my waist and holds me in place. “Let your brother work in silence, Siren. He’s thinking.”
“Too much,” Sam scoffs, stepping up beside me. “I don’t want to be down here forever.”
