Whispered Darkness by Jessica Sorensen Page 0,39
I check the time on my phone. “We need to do something quickly, though, because I need to meet Death soon.”
He presses his lips together, hesitating. “I have to tell you something. Something that has to do with that.”
“Okay.” Wariness creeps up inside me, but mostly because I can feel worry stirring inside him.
“I don’t want you to be mad,” he says quietly, “but I was worried about you going there, so after you fell asleep last night, I moved the meeting time and went to meet them myself.”
“You what?” I whisper.
“I’m sorry,” he says, taking a step toward me. “I was just trying to protect you, but I realized after the fact that I basically did what you asked me not to do—I took your choice away from you.”
Honestly, I’m unsure how I feel. On the one hand, he did take away my choice. But on the other, I can kind of see why he did it.
“Did you meet them then?” I focus on the bigger picture.
He nods. “Sort of. This shadowy figure was there, but they took off into the forest before I could actually walk all the way to them. They left something on the bench, though. An old book.”
“A book?” I question. “What sort of book?”
“One that I can’t read, because it’s in some weird-ass language,” he explains with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Har. I really am.”
“You don’t need to be sorry … I mean, I get why you did it. But, maybe next time, just tell me.” I fiddle with the leather band on my wrist. “I feel like, with everything going on”—I gesture at the trees, the pond, and Beth—“it’s important that we can trust each other, especially since those creepy arm things apparently can’t touch us when we’re together.”
He nods, stepping toward me and placing his palm against my cheek. “I promise I’ll be honest from now on.”
“Thanks.” A small smile touches my lips then fades as my gaze travels to Beth’s body. “Now we just need to figure out where to hide her body.” I glance at him with hope. “You wouldn’t, by chance, have any ideas, would you?”
He angles his head to the side, considering. “I might have one idea. It’s a little bit … weird, though.”
“What is it?”
“I … I don’t want you to think I’m weird or anything like that.”
“I wouldn’t think that.” I take his hand. “I promise.”
“I know, but …” He stares down at our hands. “If I said this in front of Foster or my parents, they’d think I was a murderer or something.”
While his statement throws me off, I’m not afraid of him. “Well, I’m not your parents.” I give his hand a squeeze then smile at him reassuringly when he glances up at me.
Reluctance plagues his expression, but he ultimately releases a defeated sigh. “I once read about a theory that stated that a good place to hide a body is in a cemetery … in a grave.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” I say. “But how do we get her body to a cemetery without being seen?”
Puzzlement creases his features. “You’re not going to ask me why I was reading about that stuff to begin with?”
“Why would I?” I say. “It’s not like I haven’t looked up strange stuff before. Hell, I’ve spent the last few weeks researching about death.”
“Only because you died.”
“Okay, well, why were you looking up stuff like that?”
“I was bored and on this murder mystery site.”
“See? That’s not so weird.” I smile at him again. “And even if it is, then I guess I’m weird, too, because I spend a lot of time watching crime shows and stating aloud all the things I think the murderer messed up on that lead to him being caught. It’s my own weird way of trying to plan the perfect murder.”
His confusion only doubles as he stares at me in bafflement. “You know, I thought I knew you, but I don’t think I do. Not completely anyway.”
“Did what I say just freak you out?”
“No.”
“Okay then.” I squeeze his hand again. “How about, since we’re not both weirded out by each other’s weirdness, we just keep on working on getting to know each other.” Then, to try to make this grave situation lighter, I crack a joke. “And what better way to get to know each other than by hiding a body in a cemetery together.”
Thank God that he cracks a smile, though it swiftly dwindles.
“I still don’t know how we’re gonna get it