Page 5

It was definitely a plan.

I watch Ryet through the window . He doesn’t go far, just over to the truck where he starts gathering things up from the back cab—our road trip mess. Then he’s slinging a backpack over his shoulder and heading back towards the house.

I move to the kitchen and start opening cupboards so he doesn’t think I was watching him. I’m still doing this when he comes through the door and sets the backpacks down on a chair.

His gaze lands on me and he frowns. “Shit. We don’t have any food, do we?”

I realize this is something he’s going to take personally. Ryet eats, but I don’t think he needs to. He could go without food in the cupboards and fridge because my blood is his food.

But I can’t go without food. So it’s proof that we are very different and this relationship we both seem to want is going to be a lot of work.

Months, at least. Years. Who knows, it might take decades to figure it all out. I might be an old, dying woman before we finally come to terms with it.

“We could go into town,” Ryet offers.

I do want to go into town, but I want to go alone. “I think I’ll go by myself.”

Ryet looks hurt for a moment, but reins it in quickly. “If that’s what you want.”

“Do you need anything?”

He’s about to say no. I’m almost positive. But then he pauses to think. “A razor.” He rubs his hand over his scruffy cheeks.

“Anything else?” I want him to say food. Steaks. Sandwich meat. Cheese. A donut, maybe. Something, anything, that will prove to me that blood isn’t his only nutritional requirement.

But he just shrugs. “Nah. I’m good.”

“OK.” I press my lips together and then walk over to him and hold out my hand.

He reaches into his pocket and then drops the truck key into my palm. “Do you need directions?”

“No. We passed the town on the way in. I think I can find it.”

And with nothing left to say, he gives in. “OK. Be careful. See you in a bit.”

I nod and leave, taking in a deep breath of fresh air as I close the front door behind me.

It only takes about ten minutes to get back to the town of Mount Royal, West Virginia. The green sign that welcomes me as I pass by the city limits says ‘Population 435.’ It’s about ten blocks long but only two blocks wide because it’s situated between a major highway and a river—the Tygart Valley River, to be specific. It’s cute. Looks like something you’d see in a movie. You have to pass through a covered bridge to get into town, then go over some railroad tracks, and after you do that the first thing you see is a church. A very stately Romanesque church made of red bricks, a dramatic semicircular arch front and center, and symmetrical towers on either side.

I’m not gonna lie, the church gives me a queasy feeling in my stomach. Though it doesn’t look anything like it, I can’t help but be reminded of the church in White River, which I am now convinced was a cult, and I feel lucky that we got out of there alive.

I shake my head and roll my eyes at my stupid thoughts. They were Paul’s people, obviously. They weren’t gonna hurt us. They were… gonna watch us, maybe. Make sure everything went to plan, I think.

It was definitely a plan.

The Guild sent me to White River so that I would bump into Ryet and he would get to feed.

That’s probably ninety-nine percent of the truth, but something about that town and those people still bothers me. Specifically, that herbal tea that Emily gave me for Ryet’s fever.

We didn’t drink it, of course. I ended up feeding him and he got better. But Emily had a look on her face at the pancake breakfast when I said we didn’t drink it.

I was distracted at the time. And not very suspicious yet, so I didn’t pay much attention to this look of hers. But remembering back, I think she might’ve been trying to poison us or something.

A laugh bursts out of me. “Syrsee, get a hold of yourself. No one is trying to?—”

I almost slam on the brakes, that’s how shocked I am when I spy the sign over the general store. It says ‘Mount Royal General Store,’ but that’s not the shocking part. The shocking part is the horse and rider symbol on both sides of the name.

I’m already passing that store—heading towards the bigger, regional supermarket that’s straight in front of me—when I see the symbols. Luckily, I do not slam on the brakes. I keep cool and make a U-turn at the next cross street. Then I go back the way I came and ease the truck into the parking lot, settling right underneath the sign.

I get out and look up at it, pondering the message of the symbols. The one at the front of the word has the horse pointing right and the one at the end of the word has the horse pointing left.

Which can only mean one thing.

There is a Guild Lounge inside this general store.

My heart thumps wildly inside my chest as I internalize what is happening.

There is a Guild Lounge inside this store.

What does it mean? Are they following us? Have they always been here? Watching Ryet?

Then I look around at the quaint little town with its covered bridge, and picturesque church, and general store.

Sure, just up ahead there are more modern buildings. The regional grocery store. A bank. A library. None of them built recently, but none of them exhibiting nostalgia for days gone by like this side of town is.

This side of town that is clearly being controlled by the Guild.

What should I do? Go in? Say hello? Ask if they have room for me on the mani-pedi schedule?

Or go back home to Ryet and tell him we need to get the fuck out of here?

And go where?

Besides, what’s the point?

If there’s a Guild Lounge in this town, is there any possibility at all that they don’t know exactly where Ryet lives? And given the fact that ten people were standing at the bottom of his driveway when we pulled up to it, is there any possibility at all that they don’t already know we’re here?

They know.

And if they left this symbol up, then they meant for me to see it. And if I was meant to see it, then I was meant to go inside.

I pull the door open—making a bell jingle over my head—and then scoot past a line of customers who are waiting to check out.

“Hello!” someone calls out. “Welcome to Mount Royal General Store!” It doesn’t come from the person running the register, he’s too busy checking out the line of customers. It comes from one of the interior aisles, a well-practiced greeting from an employee who is trained to the sound of the jingling bell over the door.

I scan the interior of the store and immediately, I see the next clue. Another horse and rider on the back wall. The horse is pointing left, so I turn that way and find another pointing down a hallway.

I draw in a long breath, then slowly let it out, trying to calm myself. I don’t have Zusi’s card anymore. It was in my purse and I don’t even remember the last time I saw that purse.

But I’m here. What else am I gonna do but try to go inside? Just go home and pretend I never saw it?

Not a chance.

I walk towards the hallway where the horse is pointing, and then, when I get there, I look over my shoulder to see if anyone is watching. If someone was, I could maybe talk myself out of this. But no one is.

So I turn into the hallway and stop, staring at the door just ten feet away. It’s a glass door, but it’s not transparent glass. It’s frosted, so while I can see shadows on the other side, I can’t make out anything specific. It looks very modern with the stainless-steel accents and the card reader near the doorknob.

Very out of place. So out of place I start to wonder if anyone else can see it.

‘Probably not’ is my guess, but there’s no real way to check my theory.

I can see it, though. And even though I don’t have a card to enter, I’m going to try anyway.

I walk down the hall, stop at the door, and I’m just about to knock on it when it is pulled open.

Suddenly, there is a man in front of me. I’m literally eye level with his neck. And when I look up, my mouth opens in shock. “Tristin?”

He doesn’t smile. That’s not Tristin’s style. He doesn’t frown either. He just narrows his eyes at me, then grabs me by the arm and pulls me inside, closing the door behind me.