The Deck of Omens (The Devouring Gray #2) - Christine Lynn Herman Page 0,50
her as nothing more than a child full of silly ideas.
“I understand,” May whispered.
“Your father was inordinately interested in her,” Augusta continued, reaching for the whiskey. The ice cubes clinked together as she took a swig, seemingly unbothered by the chilly October air. “He was endless with his questions.”
May’s heart caught in her throat. This she had not been expecting. Augusta never spoke about her father. Perhaps this wasn’t her first glass of liquor after all.
“Dad wanted to know… about Hetty?” She tried to ask the question as carefully as possible. She did not know if this chance would come again.
“He wanted to know about all of us.” Augusta’s smile was rueful. “You know, we only got together because of his research on occultism. I should’ve known then that all he cared about was studying us. Trying to figure out how I worked like I was some goddamn machine.”
May had never heard this side of things before. “Why was he so curious?”
“I’m not sure.” Augusta paused. “I don’t know what he was looking for, I just know he never found it. No matter how many interviews he did. But that’s all done now, anyway. Can’t ask any questions when there’s no one willing to answer them.”
She looked at May, a little glassy-eyed, and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge something between her ears. “So. Do you still have a plan for how to fix the corruption?”
“No,” May lied softly, stepping away from the porch. “Not anymore.”
She’d come here for answers. Instead she’d found doubt and more questions. She let the door shut behind her and walked back up to her room, her mind racing.
How could she possibly have the same power as Hetty Hawthorne? And what, exactly, had her father been looking for that had upset Augusta so much?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Violet had come here for Justin Hawthorne’s eighteenth birthday party, but so far it felt a lot more like a funeral. She and Harper stood at the edge of a clearing in the woods behind the Hawthorne house, deserted but for the logs set down in front of a tiny, crackling firepit and the birds chirping in the branches. Lanterns were strung through the trees, and staticky pop music blared from a portable speaker.
“Hey,” she said, turning to Harper. “I thought you said this thing would be packed.”
“It should be.” Harper, standing beside her, looked absolutely unnerved. “I don’t understand?—where is everyone?”
“This is everyone.” May stepped out from the trees. She was wearing a cropped pink sweatshirt, high-waisted jeans, and shiny platform sneakers the color of cotton candy. The look on her face suggested she would rather be anywhere but here, but then, May always looked like that.
“That’s not possible,” Harper said flatly. “Did he forget to send out invites or something?”
“The town knows he doesn’t have powers.” May tapped her phone and the song on the speakers changed, another upbeat tune that belonged at a crowded dance party instead of a nearly empty clearing. “Hence, consequences.”
“But they aren’t mad at us,” Violet protested.
“No, not us,” Harper agreed softly. “Just him.”
Violet’s stomach churned. She’d only agreed to go to this party because she knew Harper wanted to attend, even if she would never admit it. Violet had a lot on her mind lately?—the evolving corruption sweeping through the forest, her own changing powers, and now Isaac. Something had been off with him earlier that day during their investigations, but she hadn’t wanted to push him, as always. Maybe it was just his brother making him upset.
She didn’t know what to make of this new Sullivan. Isaac had told her he was the one responsible for the scar on his neck, and it was clear that he believed it. Yet Gabriel’s tattoos and muscles seemed like just as much of a defense mechanism to her as Isaac’s high-necked shirts and his insistence on carrying around books like a security blanket. No matter how tough Gabriel looked, he didn’t seem capable of attacking his younger brother. But that didn’t mean anything either. Four Paths was full of good liars.
She’d found something in the Sullivan archives earlier that day. Part of a letter, ripped down the middle. She’d wanted to talk to Isaac about it, but it hadn’t been the right time. The original was sitting on her desk at home right now, but she had a picture of it on her phone. She pulled it out now, frowning down at the screen as she read the words for the tenth