Page 52 of Fallen Creed

“No. Thanks.”

“One time—this is so funny. He sent us in to a convenience store and we were supposed to see how many items we could lift while he talked to the clerk and bought cigarettes from behind the counter. We like literally had about two minutes. Did he ever have you do that?”

“No.”

“Did he ever take you to Walmart or Target,” Ariel’s voice had changed to a low growl, “And in the middle of, you know, like the shampoo aisle or someplace, did he have you pick out a customer for you to kill?”

The wind howled through the trees, but Creed thought he heard Libby say, “Yes.”

Branches rattled above him, some cracked and started raining down. Dirt came with it. Earth falling from the sky. He looked for Grace and missed part of the mumbled conversation. He picked only words and phrases out of each gust: “torture,” “cut the heart out,” and “leave him in a ditch.”

He wasn’t sure if they were talking about him. Would he be able to feel the knife again, way out here in the middle of the forest with all the red grass?

“Well, did he make you choose an undercover name?” They were back to Ruben and Ariel’s sing-song continued, “You know, like for when you had to get a hotel room. He always had one of us girls go in and get the room. Pay cash. But you have to give them a name. What name did you choose?”

“I didn’t do that. It must be something new.”

“Are you sure you didn’t? Or you just don’t want to share it with me. I mean, I get it. You still don’t trust me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Creed could hardly hear Libby. Her voice came from behind the trees. Ariel’s fell from the sky.

“No, that’s okay. Trust should be earned.”

“Let me guess,” Libby said. “You chose Ariel.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

From Shakespeare, Creed thought. The Tempest. A spirit obligated to serve a magician. Where had he just seen Shakespeare? All he could see were tiny little cards falling like rain from the pages.

“What did he do?” Libby asked.

Creed tried to find her. It sounded like she was behind him now. He’d need to backtrack, but there was no way to turn around.

“What do you mean?”

“What did he do to make you run?”

The silence lasted long enough, Creed thought he and Grace were alone. When Ariel’s voice came again, it sounded stripped of all the joy and carefree spirit that had lifted it to the clouds. Now it seemed to grumble up from the ground, boiling through the dark red grass.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “Look, are we gonna do this or not? He wasn’t part of the plan. We need to get rid of him.”

Creed realized the grass was dripping wet and rubbing against his pant legs. It painted the fabric with streaks of red. He wiped at the mess with the palm of his hand, only to discover the grass wasn’t actually red.

It was drenched in blood.

And it was at that moment Creed knew the blood was his.

—41—

Thursday, October 7

Grand Island, Nebraska

Maggie stood at her fourth-floor hotel room window. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she tried, she thought about Ryder and Grace. She’d gone down to his hotel room to make sure all his things were safe and untouched. They’d given each other keycards to their rooms. Maggie’s idea of intimacy.

She was ridiculous. Immature. She was so lame at relationships.