Cold Tomorrow

[36]

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

"Melissa, why do you need to know how to break a curse?"

Harrison has reached the conclusion some part of me knew he inevitably would. But the moment finds me unprepared. I should be busying myself with the books, packing them away, acting normal. Instead I can't stop staring blindly at the table, like someone has cut the chord linking my brain and my body.

If breaking the curse on Anarkks was as simple as killing me, and both Keon and Patrick have known this whole time, why am I alive?

"Melissa?"

"It was just research," I blurt. "For curiosity's sake."

"Then why don't I believe you? You haven't gotten into any trouble, have you?"

I laugh humourlessly. "Harrison, have you met me? I'm always in trouble."

"Apparently so. Do you need any help getting out of it?"

"No."

"Allow me to rephrase: I'm helping you get out of it."

"Harrison–"

"Here's the thing. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me what we're doing here. And I mean really doing here."

"Then I suppose we'll both be here forever."

"That's funny."

"I'm not dragging you into this. You've already had enough thrown at you – everything you know has been flipped upside down. Your sister is alive but downright evil, and not to mention on the endangered list. Let's face it, your life is a mess. You don't need this."

"Wow," he says, and I know I've hurt him. "Wow. That's a great assessment. Thank you for that." He bundles a bunch of books into his arms, stepping back from the table and away from me. I'm a horrible person. No, I'm a detestable person.

"Harri–" But he's across the room at this point and I lose my nerve. I have to make a choice here, between going it alone – relying solely on myself, as was the plan – or forfeiting my plan, and possibly my chance at saving Caden, by involving other people. I sigh and lean against the table, glancing over occasionally as he puts away the books. After a few minutes, he returns.

"I'm sorry," I say softly.

"I know," he replies. "The truth hurts, but it's still the truth. And right now it's what I need, whatever it may be. I know you think you're doing good by keeping me out of this but it's too late for that. My sister is involved and I became involved the instant you knocked on my door last week. You have to tell me."

"I know. I mean, I know I should. I–" I take a breath. Here goes. "I have to break a curse before Wednesday or someone I love will die."

There's the briefest moment, in which Harrison's face seems on the verge of transforming with some emotional response, in which the words I've myself said double down and hit hard, as though I've never heard them before. Then it shatters with a bang.

Way above us, someone just closed the front door.

We're alone no longer.

Harrison's gaze snaps to the doorway. "I thought you said no one lived here."

"That's because no one does." And like the first blast of an icy shower, realisation sets in. "Shit. We need to get out."

I can't believe how dumb I was – to assume Rand's death had left this place desolate, left it forgotten. What an idea: all this knowledge and no one to know it. Obviously a resource as invaluable as this wouldn't be left to gather dust.