Everneath

The tension slipped from her face. “Okay. But hurry. My tee time’s at one.”

She started down the line again. Jack’s hand still rested in the lettuce, so I nudged him with my elbow, and he seemed to restart. “Don’t worry about her,” I said. “She gets confused easily.”

“That wasn’t confusion.” Jack kept his eyes on my face as he served the salad. “It was like she knew me. Knew us. Did you talk to her about us?”

“Of course not. She also knows about anchors, apparently. And she’s late for her tee time. None of it makes sense.”

We didn’t talk much for the rest of the lunch rush. When enough people had cleared out, I said to Jack, “Do you want to help me clean up?”

Jack looked at me and smiled as if nothing sounded better. “Yep.”

“Okay, so the brooms are this way.” I pointed toward the closet near the bathrooms.

Jack nodded and followed me to the broom closet. He grabbed a mop and bucket. I slammed the closet door behind me, but the cuff of my shirt caught on the doorknob and yanked the sleeve. “Whoops.” I unhooked the snag and pulled my shirt back into place. “Once a klutz…” I held my broom with one hand, the dustpan with the other. “We’ll start in the corner over there and work our way back. Okay?”

But Jack just looked at me, puzzled.

“Jack? What’s wrong?”

He wasn’t looking at my face. He was staring at my shoulder. When my shirt had gotten caught, it had slipped out of place, revealing part of my mark for a split second. It now reached from my collarbone to the edge of my shoulder.

“It’s getting bigger.”

I shoved my shirt even farther up to the base of my neck and tried to keep my voice calm. “What are you talking about?”

Before he could answer, I turned and started clearing off a table, but then Jack’s hand clamped on my shoulder and he yanked me around. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

I shrugged his hand off. “Okay, yeah, it’s growing a little.”

“That’s not a little, Becks. It’s covering your entire shoulder. What is it?”

I sighed. “I told you. It’s just something that appeared when I was … gone. It’s nothing. I can’t even feel it.”

“Why is it growing? Regular tattoos don’t grow.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it will go back down, or go away someday.”

He paused. “Shouldn’t you see a doctor…? Don’t give me that look, Becks.”

“I think you know a doctor can’t help.”

He took two tentative steps toward me, closing the distance between us. He took the broom out of my hand and leaned it against the wall, then he reached up and pushed my shirt aside, exposing the mark all the way to the end of my shoulder.

His fingers were rough and callused against my neck and shoulders, but they were soft, too.

“Up close, it doesn’t look quite like a tattoo.”

“How would you know?”

One corner of his lip pulled up into a sort of smile and he pushed his own sleeve back, exposing his right forearm. Black markings covered the inside, just underneath the crease of his elbow.

“What is it?”

He ignored my question. “My tattoo looks like ink on skin, whereas yours”—he focused once again on my own mark— “doesn’t. Your skin doesn’t feel different,” he said, looking closer, tracing the edge of the mark. I could feel his breath. I smelled the sweet and rustic scent of his aftershave. “It’s almost like the black color is coming from beneath your skin, not from the skin itself. And it can’t be a burn, because the skin isn’t distorted in any way.”

“No. It’s not,” I whispered.

“And it’s not raised, like a scar would be…. Becks? Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

I realized I was straining my head away from him and squeezing my eyes shut. I opened them and found Jack studying my face. I wanted him more than anything. “No. I’m fine. I was just … thinking.”

He cracked a smile. “Does thinking hurt you these days?”

“No.” I took a step back. He couldn’t possibly guess what the mark meant, but I wasn’t going to take the chance.

Jack watched me carefully. I kept backing up, dragging my hand along the wall as I did.

“Where are you going?”

He can’t know. I can’t do this to him. “I have somewhere … something to do. Christopher can clean up by himself.”

“Becks?” He held his hands out, palms down.

“You can leave too, I’m sure. You’ve already done so much. And thanks … for helping out today, okay?”

“You’re running.”

I shook my head. I had reached the swinging doors that led to the hallway and out to the parking lot. “It’s late. I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

Before he could protest, I slipped out the door and started a slow jog toward my car. But I stopped when I saw that Cole, as his blond self, was leaning against the side of the Rabbit, like he knew the exact moment I would be rushing out to the car.

“Hi, honey. How was work?” He grinned.

I ignored him and dug around for the car keys in my purse, keeping my eyes on him. When I had them in my hand, I started walking toward the car again.

I held the car key out, pointed and ready.

Cole eyed the key. “Uh-oh. Is that key loaded?”

“I’m in a hurry.” I made it to the car, but Cole held his ground in front of the driver’s-side door.

“That’s nice that Jack wants to feed the dregs of society. He’s here now, isn’t he?”

“How did you know?”

His eyes narrowed in a sly way. “Jules came to me. Crying. She said Jack couldn’t stay away from you. She asked me to take the pain away. Begged me to take the pain away. Said she wants to stop feeling.”

For the just briefest moment, I believed him, and I hated myself for hurting someone else, especially Jules. He knew I was vulnerable where she was concerned. She was my friend, and Cole knew I had come back for my friends and family. “Jules doesn’t even know you.”

“Maybe not formally. But she is hurting. All I needed to do was taste her pain at the little scented-candle stand at the mall today to know that Jack was with you. You know she works at the Scentsy candle shop on Saturdays.”

“They’re not together. Jack doesn’t feel that way about her.”

“But he could.” He tilted his head. “Maybe if you hadn’t Returned, they’d be a couple. Can you really do this to your best friend?”

It wasn’t my fault they weren’t together. At least, that’s what I tried to believe. “I can’t help it if Jack still has feelings for me,” I said. It was the first blatant lie I’d told Cole in reference to Jack. I had no idea how Jack felt about me anymore.

Cole looked at the soup kitchen, then back at me. “If that’s true, why isn’t he with you? Leaving with you?”

“Because…” My voice dropped off. “He had to clean up.”

Cole’s lip pulled up. “He’d rather clean for free than be with you? Ouch.”

“Just move,” I said.

“Becks!” Jack jogged casually until he reached me, not even sparing one glance at Cole. He put both hands on my arms and pulled me toward him. “Sorry I took so long in there. I couldn’t remember where you told me to put the mops.”

He put an arm around me protectively and drew me close, away from Cole.

“Wow. You two seem to be right as rain again,” Cole said from beside us. I could hear the undercurrent of rage beneath his voice. “I hate to interrupt this sudden case of the touchy-feelies, but with the three of us standing here, it almost feels like that spring day so long ago. Almost as if Jack hadn’t left for camp. Almost as if Jack had nothing to do with you going under, Nik.”

Jack winced, but he kept his eyes on me.

“You should’ve seen her. Did you know that when she left your dorm that night, she came straight to me? Begged to go with me. Barely able to breathe for the pain.” He enunciated each word.

I studied Jack’s face and shook my head. Jack dropped his arm from my shoulders. “You never let me explain. I ran to you, but you drove off. You didn’t trust me.”

There was silence for a few long moments.

“Would either of you care to know my opinion?” Cole said.

“Shut up,” we replied at the same time.

Cole shrugged. “You know where to find me.” He turned and walked across the parking lot to the sidewalk that led around the corner of the post office. I watched him until he disappeared, then I faced Jack again.

Jack roughly ran both of his hands through his hair. “This is a mess.” It sounded like he was talking to himself, not to me. “I know how it looked, but you should’ve let me explain. I hated you for leaving.” He looked up at the sky. “I hated you.”

Jack took a step backward, away from me, and as he did, a voice called out to us. “Don’t let him drive you apart!”

We both turned toward the sound. Mary was sitting on a bench under the shelter of the bus stop. I hadn’t noticed her before. She’d been watching us.

She stood and came over. “That’s what he wants. He’s scared of anchors. I told you I have a theory about anchors.”

Anchors again. I sighed. “Okay, Mary. Are you waiting for a bus? Do you need me to give you a ride somewhere?”

Jack hadn’t moved beside me. He seemed to be taking her way more seriously than I was. Mary spoke to Jack. “It’s happened before. And he doesn’t want it to happen again.”

“Who doesn’t?” Jack asked.

I put my hand on his arm. “Jack, she doesn’t know what she’s—”

“Cole,” Mary interrupted.

My breath caught in my throat. She knew his name. “What?”

She didn’t answer me. She shook her head. “I’ve said too much.”

One of the free city buses rounded the corner, its brakes squeaking as it headed for the bus stop.

“I have to go.” Mary turned toward the bus and waved to the driver.

“Wait, Mary. You can’t go,” I said. “How do you know Cole?” I grabbed her arm, but she yanked it free and ran for the bus with the energy of a twenty-year-old, not an eighty-year-old.

“Mary, please!” I called after her, but it was too late. Mary stepped onto the bus, and gave us a small wave and a crazy smile as the doors closed.

“What was that?” Jack asked with a stunned expression.

“I don’t know,” I said, dazed. “She seems to know Cole.”

“Then we can’t let her go.”

“But the bus—”

“It’s the free shuttle. It goes to Prospector Square next.” He took my keys out of my hand. “We might beat it if I drive.”

Jack drove like a madman, navigating the back roads and running stop signs. We pulled to a stop right in front of the shuttle sign.

“Did we pass it?”

We watched in the rearview mirror, waiting … hoping the bus would appear. If Mary was spooked, there was a chance she wouldn’t return to the soup kitchen. We had to find her now.

“Please,” I said under my breath.

Jack grabbed my hand. Finally, the white shuttle rounded the corner. Jack cut the ignition, and we waited by the stop. When we got on, Mary popped out of her seat and started to back up to the end of the bus.

We followed her and kept our voices low.

“It’s okay, Mary,” Jack said. “We just want to talk.”

Mary sat in the last row. We’d physically cornered her.

Her hands were shaking, so I sat next to her and took one of her hands and held it in my lap. “Please, Mary. You said you knew Cole.”

Mary’s lower lip trembled. “It’s because you weren’t a daughter. That’s why he wanted you. You were an experiment.”

“What do you mean, I wasn’t a daughter?” Then it hit me. “Wait. You’re talking about the Daughters of Persephone, aren’t you? You really did ask that girl about finding the Daughters of Persephone.”

She nodded. “I was lost when I Returned. I thought they could help me find my mom.” She started rocking back and forth. Jack was sitting in the row in front of us, listening intently.

“It’s going to be okay, Mary. Who are the Daughters of Persephone?”

The rocking continued. “We’re raised to be Forfeits. To have no attachments. To have nothing to leave behind. We prepare our daughters to be chosen for the Feed.”

At this, she put her head in her hands and started moaning. Some of the passengers in the back started to look.

“Shh, Mary.” I squeezed her hand and wondered how much more information we’d get out of her. “Please keep going.”