Page 105 of Salem’s Rise

“I have to admit, I’m a bit disappointed how easy you made it for him.” His face twists into something ugly. “Heard you fucked him too. That’s especially sad. You let him use you. And now I’m here because he’s done playing and wants you dead.”

I go still as shock and rage burn through my terror.

Silas told him?

About us?

“You’re crazy,” I say, grasping for the one truth I cannot afford to let him touch. “Silas is my partner. He’s going to help me find my brother.”

A vicious smile spreads across his face.

“Oh,” he says. “You don’t know yet.”

Cold spreads outward from the center of my chest. “Know what?”

“That bastard.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe he still hasn’t told you. Actually…” He considers that for a moment. “Yes, I can. Keeping secrets is one of Silas’s better talents.”

“Told me what!”

He studies me for a long moment, savoring it.

“You’re never going to find your brother alive.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” The knife lowers a fraction as Van leans in, close enough that I catch the scent of mint and violence on his breath. “Ask Silas,” he murmurs. “He knows the truth. He always has.”

“The Veil has Josh,” I say, clinging to the words I need to be real. “And the second these fucking games are over, I’m going to find him.”

Yet, even as I say it, the certainty I’ve carried for months begins to crack. A cold and terrible devastation settles in its place. Van is holding all the cards. He has me trapped in a deserted shed where no one can hear my screams, his knife to my throat, about to kill me. Why would he lie about this? About any of it?

He’s already won.

“Your roommate never learned to stay out of things that didn’t concern her either. She kept digging. I had to take care of it.” Van’s voice goes almost fond, savoring the memory. “Silas found out afterward. It was his idea to leave her in the walls for you. He thought it might scare you off, but of course you were too fucking stubborn.” His gaze turns cold and hungry. “She screamed rather beautifully, if it’s any comfort. I imagine you’ll sound about the same when I’m carving you up.”

Nausea surges up my throat as the meaning sinks in.

It was Van. He’s the one who killed Eleanor.

“You didn’t…”

“Oh, I did.” His eyes never leave mine. “And I enjoyed every second of it.”

He drinks in the horror on my face until his amusement finally fades. “Enough conversation. I’ve got a holiday party to get to,” he says, glancing at his watch, almost bored, before drawing the knife back. “Don’t worry, I’ll give Silas your love. I’m sure it’ll amuse him to know you trusted him blindly right up until the bitter end.”

He’s so busy taunting me that he doesn’t see me move. I shove both hands into his chest, putting all my weight behind it. He stumbles back, skidding on spilled rock salt before slamming into the shed wall. The knife tears free from his hand, skittering across the floor toward me.

We both dive for it.

He catches my coat and yanks me backward. My knee cracks against concrete, pain shooting up my leg, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I twist hard and kick back, driving my heel into his jaw. His grip breaks.

Heart thundering, I reach blindly for the knife again, and the carved handle seems to slip into my grasp almost like it’s been waiting for me. A second later, his weight crashes onto my back, pinning me beneath him. He grabs my hair, wrenching my head up.

Something fierce and determined rises inside me as I drive my wrist backward. The instant I move, everything changes. The knife seems to pull my hand toward Van, drawn to him with a power that doesn’t feel entirely mine. The blade is almost eager, as if it wants this too, and then plunges into him far deeper than I would’ve thought possible.

Van makes a strange, wet sound and rolls away.