Grounded

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I dream of thunderstorms that night. Lightning rips across a silver sky. It flattens everything in its path. I'm in the dream but I can't tell if I'm the sky, the lightning, or the scorched earth. In the morning, I'm covered in sweat.

After a long shower, I dally in my closet, unable to make the simplest decision of what to wear. Eventually I decide on a stretchy pair of jeans, a sleeveless blouse, and a long orange blazer that reaches the back of my knees and is covered in buckles and straps. Orange, blessed orange. I relish my chance to wear the color we don't have in Hemlock Hollow. I slide my feet into a pair of strappy orange sandals with three-inch heels. I've never worn heels before and take a few practice strides across the room before ascending to the main part of the house.

With how late it is, I hope I've missed breakfast and with it, the need to face Jeremiah after what happened last night. I'll ask Jameson for a small bowl of cereal and eat it alone in the kitchen. But when I walk toward the dining room, voices drift across the house: Korwin, Jeremiah, and Maxwell in heated conversation. I can't make out everything they're saying, only the sharp edge of Jeremiah's words. They stop talking when the click-clack of my shoes on the hardwood gives me away.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Nothing," Maxwell says.

Jeremiah shoots him a defiant look.

Jameson pulls out a chair for me. Without asking if I want it, he brings me a cup of coffee and a yogurt parfait.

I glare across the table at Maxwell. "I heard you fighting. What were you talking about?"

Jeremiah folds his hands, knuckles whitening. "I was suggesting to Mr. Stuart and Korwin that they help us visit your father." His blue eyes drill into mine.

I stiffen. "I thought we'd settled this yesterday." I take a deep breath and blow it out in a huff. "When we are done here, Mr. Stuart will return us to Hemlock Hollow."

"But you have to visit him, Lydia. It's why we came."

Maxwell leans back in his chair and shakes his head. "It's out of the question. If anyone sees you, it would be disastrous. I'm sorry, the risks are too great."

"Right," I say. "Like we talked about yesterday, it's too risky. I wouldn't want to put him in danger." Guilt squeezes my heart like a vise.

"I've changed my mind. I'm willing to take the risk," Jeremiah says. "He's ill. He needs us." The pointed look he gives me tells me everything I need to know. After last night, Jeremiah can't stand to be here any longer.

"No, Jeremiah. What if you're like me? You need to stay until we're sure."

Maxwell clears his throat. "His blood is normal."

The news doesn't surprise me. He didn't react to the lamp like I did, and I haven't felt the connection with him I have with Korwin. I mourn the loss of the leverage to make him stay.

"You can't go. The risk isn't your own," Maxwell says, glancing between Jeremiah and me. "If you're captured, they'll torture you. They'll kill you, Jeremiah, and drain Lydia like they did Korwin. And they'll take her father, too. They'll use him to manipulate you, if they don't kill him first."

I drop my fork. It clanks against the glass and flips berries across the table. Red splatters the white tablecloth. I bury my face in my hands and can't stop the tears from coming. My sobs are the only sound in a room full of suddenly silent men.

An arm slips around my shoulders. I know it is Korwin's by the way the tiny hairs on my neck react to his touch.

"We'll figure something out." Korwin's voice coaxes me from behind my hands.