tell me anything. I can figure all this out without your help, thanks. Maybe from . . . oh, I don’t know. The great leader of Dad’s mysterious group? Markus King himself?”
This time it was Julia who flinched. Her eyes widened. “No, Crystal. No way. I forbid you from ever seeing that man.”
“Oh, okay, if you forbid it.” Crys shrugged, forcing a smile. “Clearly, I trust what you say since you’ve been so forthcoming with me. Cross my heart, I will never, ever try to do whatever I can to get the answers you’re not willing to give me.”
Julia Hatcher’s face had gone from pale white to bright pink in moments. Her hands were actually shaking. “You’re impossible to reason with.”
Crys pointed at herself. “I’m the impossible one?”
“Leave this alone, Crystal. I’m warning you.”
“Or what?”
“I . . . I need to get some air.” Julia moved toward the door and, without another look at Crys, left the room.
Crys stared, mute with rage, wanting to run after her and keep arguing, to get her to break. To get her to talk and share what she knew.
To force her mother to trust her with the truth.
But no. It was the same as it always was with her.
She slumped down into the chair her mother had abandoned and stared at Becca’s face, which was nearly as white as the crisp hospital sheets surrounding her. Her heart monitor let out a soft, continuous beep. When Crys reached over to take her hand, her sister was cool to the touch.
Crys’s eyes burned, but she refused to cry. She refused to feel hopeless and helpless and totally alone.
“Please come back, Becca,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve been so lousy to you lately. I didn’t mean it, really. It wasn’t you; it was me. I know that sounds like something people say when they’re lazy and making excuses, but it’s the truth.” She inhaled shakily. “I always thought I’d hate Dad forever and that if I ever saw him again, I’d spit in his face. But it wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to leave us. Mom made him. He says he’s doing something good for the world with this society of his. So what does that mean? Is this Markus guy some saint who helps people in need? Could he help you, too?”
Becca’s chest hitched a little, and a soft gasp left her lighter-than-usual lips. Crys’s heart skipped a beat, hoping this would be the dramatically wonderful moment she’d been dreaming of, when Becca would open her eyes.
She tightened her grip on Becca’s hand. “If you can hear me . . . open your eyes. Wake up, right now. Please.”
Another intake of breath gave Crys an irrational burst of hope, but Becca’s eyelashes didn’t so much as flutter. Her eyes didn’t open. Her fingers didn’t curl and tighten around Crys’s.
A phone rang, its shrill sound piercing through Crys’s rib cage like an arrow. She jumped and spun around, searching for the source of the noise, and saw her mother’s cell phone, wedged into the side of the chair.
Crys looked down at the call display, then grabbed it before it went to voice mail.
“Jackie,” she managed, her throat raw.
There was a long pause. “Crys? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“It’s so good to hear your voice, sweetie. Where’s your mom?”
“She’s outside, getting some air. We’re at the hospital.”
“Becca . . .” Jackie’s voice caught and then grew very soft. “How’s she doing?”
“The same.”
Jackie swore under her breath. “I had no idea the book could affect her—or anyone—like this. Why did I send it directly to the store? I didn’t even consider it. . . . I didn’t think it through. . . .”
“What is it, Jackie?”
Instead of avoiding the topic or changing the subject like her mother had, Jackie sighed. “What do you already know?”
“Not much, thanks to Mom. She doesn’t want me to know anything.”
“Of course she doesn’t. She’s protecting you.”
“From what? All I know is that there’s a secret society that Dad’s a part of; a weird, old book that put my sister into a coma; and a boss guy named Markus who you think is a monster who’s at the center of it all.”
“Crys . . .”
“Do not try to tell me that I need to forget about this, Jackie. I won’t let go of it. I’m in pit bull mode. I’m latching on and not letting go until I get to the truth. About everything my mother has been keeping from me—about Dad, about