Nightfall (Devil's Night #4) - Penelope Douglas Page 0,47

rushing over.

He took my head in his hands, inspecting me.

“Fire’s out,” Micah called. He rushed over to Rory, holding his face and gliding his hands over his torso and arms. “Anything broken?” he asked him.

Rory shook his head, and I watched Micah’s thumb rub across Rory’s cheek.

I moved my eyes around, trying to re-connect with my body, but I couldn’t tell if I was in one piece. Everything hurt.

“Emmy, Jesus…” Will glared at me, his eyes drifting down my body.

But before he could say more, Aydin dove in and swept me into his arms, something between a scowl and worry playing in his eyes, too. “Get her some food and water,” he ordered someone. “And get my kit, some clean bandages, and some alcohol.”

He carried me up the stairs, and I watched Will and Micah sling Rory’s arms around their necks and walk him, following us.

Will met my eyes over Aydin’s shoulder, and while I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he didn’t look away.

“You’re a fighter,” Aydin said. “I like you.”

What? I gaped at him, in too much pain to even roll my eyes.

“You saw the bones in my room today?” Aydin asked.

I didn’t reply.

“That was someone else who thought he could run,” he explained. “We found what was left of him three months later when we were out hunting.”

Another prisoner tried to escape?

It was definitely a human bone. A femur. I knew it the moment I picked it up.

I’d dropped it just as quickly.

I didn’t know if an animal got him or the elements, and I didn’t ask.

And then I remembered something else he’d said. His kit. Bandages.

Then there was all that stuff in his room. Biology. Drawings. Notes.

“You’re a doctor?” I said, finally realizing.

“When I want to be.”

“How long have you been here?”

He met my gaze. “Two years, one month, fifteen days.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. The idea of Will being here that long hurt.

“Use your head,” he told me, carrying me into his room as if I weighed nothing. “You’ll need it to stay alive, because this is not how we end, Emory Scott.”

Despite myself, I almost smiled.

But I didn’t.

No. This wasn’t how I ended.

I had twenty-nine days.

Emory

Nine Years Ago

I lifted one book after another, loose papers flying everywhere as I searched for my Lolita packet at the bottom of my locker. Old math papers, tattered and crinkled, blanketed the floor, and I held out book after book, fanning each one for any sign of my missing homework.

Shit.

That packet was over a week late. Where the hell did it go?

Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was about to cry over this. I should’ve just done it when it was due instead of dragging my feet. This is what I get.

I knew I lost shit when that asshole Anderson knocked my books out of my hands yet again the day before yesterday. Everything scattered over the floor of the crowded hallway, passing students kicking my crap as they went.

I’d lost it. Townsend wasn’t going to give me another one.

Sifting through the mess, I quickly gathered up the old papers that had spilled onto the floor and stuffed them back into my locker, rising off my knees and pulling out the books on the shelf. I searched those pages as well, one last-ditch effort for hope that it was still somewhere.

“You okay?”

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Elle walking toward me with a backpack on one arm and a trumpet case in another.

“Fine,” I said, turning my attention back to my search.

“Well, everyone is about gone,” she said. “It’s getting dark.”

She kept walking, but spun around to watch me as she spoke.

“Need a ride?” she asked.

“No, thanks.”

“’K, see you tomorrow.”

“’Night,” I told her but didn’t bother to look.

What was I going to do? School had ended two hours ago. The teachers were gone, and band was gone, practice having ended over twenty minutes ago. It was too late to find my bandmate Joseph Carville who shared that class with me to see if I could make a copy of his on the printer in the library.

But of course, he’d probably turned his in last week anyway.

I slammed my locker shut. The silence of the empty hallways only made the thoughts in my head louder.

This was my fault, and I wouldn’t even be able to blame Martin for getting upset when he saw the missing assignment on my records. It was almost as if I enjoyed provoking him.

I was stubborn to the point of being