Sinister

Chapter Twenty-One

Sinister

Chapter Twenty-One

Leighton stared at the clock. The hands were frozen at the time of Tate's arrival, stuck at 9:43am. Her cheek was numb where it was resting against her hand, her elbow sore from propping herself up on the table. She had been sitting there for hours while Tate sat across from her, staring over her head and into the greenbelt beyond her backyard.

Tate had brought the stone down from her room, laying it on the table between them. When he wasn't staring out the window he was staring at the stone, almost as if he were searching for telltale signs of forgery.

Leighton's eyes and cheeks were stinging, her mouth was hanging open and her hands seemed unable to close completely. The only thing she could feel was devastation. Everything else was completely numb.

"Killian's coming," Tate announced, eyes glassy.

Leighton would've shrugged, but the effort was too great. Not more than a minute later there was a small tap at the door and then Killian was in the kitchen, hovering by the entryway near the fridge.

"Well... this is a sight."

Tate closed his eyes, veins along his neck tensing.

Killian moved forward, taking off his suit jacket and hanging on the back of his chair before taking a seat. His face was almost completely healed, the worst of the bruising faded to a washed out yellow. The cuts were now thin white lines that Leighton suspected would be healed by the next time she saw him. Looking at him now, with his pressed pants and collar shirt, made it hard for Leighton to picture him in the graveyard.

Killian sighed and tapped his fingers on the table before leaning forward and taking Leighton's stone in his hands and rolling it between his fingers. He frowned at the small rock as if he had never seen one before.

"So what's the plan?" he asked.

Tate looked up sharply. "I won't―"

Killian held up his hand. "Hold your breath, Tater-tot, I'm not here to ask you that." Tate sunk back in his chair, pale and tired. Killian swore and tossed the stone back on the table, it bounced once before rolling to Leighton. A smile twitched onto her face.

"There isn't a plan," Leighton said, rolling the stone between her index fingers. "There's a natural order."

Killian's eyebrows shot up as he looked to Tate for explanation. "The girl who made my life hell for not wanting anyone to die, now wants to die herself?" Tate shrugged so Killian turned to Leighton. "I must admit that this is shocking, Lovely, but strangely not entirely surprising."

Leighton felt Tate's glare but didn't move her eyes to meet it. "We do have a plan. I'm going to contact all of the old players, see who knows something and who's willing to help."

Killian almost laughed. "You want death deities to help you preserve life?"

Tate's cheeks flushed. "Do you have a better idea, Killian?"

To Leighton's surprise, Killian seemed to deflate. "I don't actually, not yet."

"Not yet?" Leighton inquired, heart ramming into her ribs. She knew it was dangerous to let herself hope, but if she didn't hope, than she wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep going.

Killian gave her a dry look. "If it were up to me, Lovely, I would've buried you already." His eyes slunk over to Tate. "But you and I are not the only ones involved."

Tate's hands turned into fists on the table. "Don't get involved Killian, this really isn't your issue. At least you'll have some deniability when it comes down to it."