Page 9

Corey

THE HOSPITAL PARKING LOT IS QUIET IN THE NIGHT. COREY’S AUDI SITS under a broken light, cloaked in shadow. He’s waiting for visiting hours to be over.

For Anita Emberly to be alone.

Right after Corey learned the truth, he found Julian. His cousin was holed up in the basement screening room, where an old giallo horror movie was casting the room in ugly primary colors.

“Do you want to come with me?” Corey asked. “To the hospital?”

Julian looked at Corey with sad eyes turned red by the glare of carnage on-screen. “Why are you going at all? It’s no use. She’s going to die.”

He’s not wrong. If Mrs. Emberly is wearing the ward, it won’t protect her forever. The curse already has her in its sights.

After his mom died, Corey had dared to hope they might find a solution that would break the curse. But it never happened. Instead, Corey has tried to accept his reality. He’s learned to move through life doing as little damage as possible.

Because hope is nothing but a false promise.

And yet here he is. In the hospital parking lot, waiting for a chance to sneak into Mrs. Emberly’s hospital room and make sure she’s wearing the ward.

Half an hour passes, and Corey sinks into his seat. Maybe Penny won’t leave the hospital tonight. Still, Corey refuses to miss his chance, so he doesn’t turn on the car. He crosses his arms and watches the doors to the hospital, eyelids growing heavier as the minutes tick by.

Right when Corey’s head starts to bob, three figures emerge from the hospital.

The first is Naomi Salazar, her shape slight in the dark. Another is a burly man Corey recognizes from Horizon Café. It must be Ron Willis, an old high school classmate of his dad’s. And against Mr. Willis’s side, leaning on him as if he’s the only thing keeping her standing, is Penny Emberly.

Corey can’t look at her face.

They split up into two cars, Naomi getting into a rusty Honda Civic and Ron and Penny climbing into a midsize pickup truck. It isn’t until they leave that Corey grabs the bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat.

Inside the hospital, Corey waves at the guard, who sees the flowers and gives him Anita Emberly’s room number before asking if there are any open positions on the Barrion Heating it’s another when you have to see it happening in slow motion.

Corey’s chest is tight, but he makes himself go into the room.

He works quickly. First, he tosses his keys and the flowers into a chair. Then he checks Mrs. Emberly’s neck—and there’s no ward.

“Damn it,” he mutters.

Frantically, Corey searches the room. The beeping of the heart monitor and the heaving of the ventilator are as loud as screams in his ears. He checks the counter; nothing. He moves on to the closet, tearing through Mrs. Emberly’s bags, but there’s no sign of the necklace.

Aunt Helen wasn’t thinking straight; what if she misremembered what happened to it? What if the ward is lying at the bottom of Elkie Lake?

Corey is about to give up. This whole thing is making him sick to his stomach. Maybe he should go home.

That’s when something small catches the light across the room.

The ward. It’s sitting on the bedside table, glittering like it’s waiting for him.

Corey sighs, some of his tension dissipating. Slowly, gingerly, he picks up the necklace—a small crescent moon hanging from a dull gold chain.

Back when Corey’s mother used to wear the ward, Corey would run his fingers over the shape of the charm, even though the cold obsidian gave him goose bumps. The ward is always cold, no matter how warm the body wearing it.

A flash of memory makes Corey freeze. There was another moment when he held this necklace. It was near the abandoned train tracks on the outskirts of town, as a train whistle blew louder and louder, getting closer to his mom’s stalled car. He opens his mouth to yell for her—

And then the memory stops, like it’s a piece of old movie film torn at the most important scene.

Corey grasps for the details of this horrible day he can’t remember, but the image disappears like a ghost. Traumatic shock , the doctor said. Sometimes it locks up our memories and swallows the key.

Maybe that’s for the best.

Corey shifts Mrs. Emberly’s head slightly to get the chain around her neck. The dead weight makes bile rise in his throat. He looks away, fastening the clasp by feel alone, trying to avoid the tubes and the ventilator.

When he’s done, Mrs. Emberly’s head is off-center on the pillow. The angle looks painful. Corey reaches out with shaking hands and adjusts Mrs. Emberly’s head until it almost looks like she’s sleeping. Corey’s knuckles are bruised from his fight with Alonso, but for the first time all day, he doesn’t feel the pain. He can’t feel much of anything.

Something on the counter vibrates. Corey has only a second to register that someone left their cell phone.

Which means they’ll be coming back.

Corey turns to leave, his heart pounding so hard he can feel the pulse in his neck. The Barrions can’t give anyone a reason to connect them to the accident, so he has to get out of here. He bumps into the bedside table, knocking off a tray with lip balm and a hairbrush. They all clatter to the floor, much too loud.

Corey can’t stop to pick them up. He doesn’t have time.

Corey leaves the room, moving fast but not quite running. When a nurse tells him visiting hours are over, he smiles and says he’s on his way out. He reaches the elevators, clicks the button. The elevator arrives. Corey steps inside—

And that’s when he remembers his car keys are in the hospital room. On the chair, along with the flowers that were his alibi.

His stomach drops so fast he’s almost nauseous. “Fuck,” he curses, and this time he runs, sending up silent thanks to the universe when he doesn’t cross paths with any hospital staff. All the while, his eyes are darting around for Penny, Naomi, or Ron Willis, but there’s nobody.

Corey makes it back. He grabs his keys, leaving the flowers in a heap. His feet are already pivoting, and he’s almost at the door—

A figure appears on the threshold, backlit by the lights. The Shadow , Corey thinks, but this figure is too short, and they have wild, curly hair.

“Corey?” Penny Emberly says.

She steps closer, coming into focus. One shoulder of her cardigan is hanging off, and her fair skin is blotchy from crying. Even in the dim light of the room, Penny’s eyes are a striking blue. He’s never noticed their color before, and in his panic, it’s all he can think about: her eyes, seeing Corey in her mom’s hospital room; her eyes, wide with confusion and fear.

He should’ve hidden the necklace under Anita Emberly’s hospital gown. Already, Penny is looking at her mom, and her gaze falls on the ward.

“Don’t take it off.”

Penny gapes at him like she doesn’t understand. Why would she? Corey barrels on anyway.

“Make sure the necklace stays on her. Don’t let the nurses take it off.”

Corey doesn’t hear whatever she says next. He’s already brushing past her, walking toward the elevators. He needs to get as far away from Penny as he can, as quickly as possible. Even if it’s too late. Even if she won’t forget about this.

Corey hears her call his name as the elevator doors slide shut. When they open, he runs for the hospital’s front doors, no longer caring who sees him. He bursts into the parking lot and he’s halfway to his car when he hears Penny’s voice again.

“Corey!”

His feet stop. Damn them, they won’t move.

Penny stands behind him, breathing hard. She must’ve taken the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” Penny says.

Corey swallows. “I was bringing your mom flowers.”

“Why?”

“Because I heard what happened.”

“Who told you?” Penny’s eyes cut away from him, as if she’s steeling herself for whatever she’s going to say next. “Was it your aunt?”

The summer night turns cold.

“They were seeing each other, weren’t they?” Penny says. “Your aunt and my mom?”

The lie comes fast. “What? No—”

“And she was there today, at the lake?”

“No.”

Penny’s hands become fists at her sides. Her voice is barely louder than a whisper as she says, “The doctor told me your aunt was there.”

Corey has never heard Penny speak this many words in his entire life. She’s never even been on Corey’s radar before today. To him, she barely existed.

That must be why Corey is so taken aback by the force of Penny’s words, by her willingness to even ask these questions. Grudgingly, Corey respects her for it. But he still can’t tell her the truth.

“I guess they were friends,” Corey says. “Your mom had an accident, and my aunt helped her out.”

Penny looks him dead in the eyes. “You know what my mom said to me today? When she found out I was at your party last night?”

“How would I know—”

“She told me to stay away from your family. And I want to know why.”

Corey opens his mouth, but he can’t speak.

Letting their families think it’s an accident is easier , Corey’s grandpa always says. It brings more closure.

Corey has always bought into that logic—until tonight. Because the thing that has defined Corey’s entire life is suddenly going to define Penny’s life, too. If Corey was in Penny’s position, wouldn’t he want to know if his mother’s death was for a reason—that it wasn’t chance that killed her, but a bitter witch whose grudge will live longer than he ever did?

Penny’s phone vibrates again. The name RON WILLIS appears on the screen, but she sends it to voice mail. She presses her phone to her chest. “I left home without telling my godfather. He’s going to have a meltdown.”

“Then you should go.”

“No,” Penny says, her voice shaking. “I’m not going anywhere until you give me an explanation.”

There it is again: that unexpected, grudging respect. But the way Penny is looking at him is strange. Her eyes are full of judgment.

No, not judgment. Blame.

Corey can’t let her blame this on him. On his family. They’ve worked too hard and suffered too much for that.

If Penny wants someone to blame, Corey can give her that much.

“Okay,” he says, his shoulders slumping. “Okay.”

Around them, wind rustles the trees. The rest of the parking lot and the road beyond it are completely deserted.

Corey has never so badly wanted to be another person, one who doesn’t know magic exists. But he’s a Barrion, and so he forces the words out:

“That necklace is the only thing keeping your mom alive.”