Desires of the Dead
Page 46

And just what was that message supposed to be? What had Violet done to make the girl hate her so much? Why did Violet deserve to be despised?
It didn’t matter, though, did it? Whatever her reason, whatever she thought Violet had done, she was sick, and someone had to stop her. Before she hurt something, or someone, again.
Violet knew it was time to stop keeping secrets. She had to tell Jay.
Her dad had been waiting for her on the front porch, holding a flashlight and pacing. He rushed to meet her at the road. Violet was trembling, both from the cold of the cutting wind and from the disturbing discovery she’d made in the woods.
“Violet,” her father scolded, taking off his coat and throwing it around her shoulders. “What were you thinking, going out on a night like this? Your mother was about to call in the National Guard.” He squeezed her tightly as he led her up the steps. Violet leaned into him, her teeth chattering. “Come on, there’s a fire in the woodstove, and I bet you could talk your mom into making you some hot cocoa.”
He was right, of course. Her mom was so relieved that she forgot to lecture Violet for taking off in the middle of a windstorm. Violet sat as close as she could to the woodstove without actually burning herself, until the warmth began to find its way into her numb fingertips and toes, and the chill was chased away.
The wind howled as it continued to pummel the house, and the sound of branches and treetops cracking intermittently filled the night. Inside they lit candles and used flashlights to get around.
Violet knew that if the power stayed out, her father would go out to the garage and set up the generator. But generally, in storms like these, the power was back on in hours rather than days, so until then they would just wait it out.
Violet wanted to call Jay, to tell him what she’d learned, to tell him everything, but not with her parents so nearby. They had gathered together, staying close to the fire to keep warm while the temperatures outside continued to plummet.
Violet’s mom handed her a mug of steaming hot chocolate, and Violet wrapped her still icy fingers around it, inhaling the rich scent. “Thanks,” she breathed.
Her mom sat cross-legged on the floor beside her. She patted Violet’s leg. “So I know you didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” she started, “but I invited Uncle Stephen and Aunt Kat and the kids over for your birthday.” Before Violet could protest, she held up her hand. “It won’t be a party. Just dinner. And a cake.” She looked pleased with herself as she added, “And presents.”
“Yeah? And it’s not a party?” Violet complained.
Her mom grinned. “Come on. We just want to wish you a happy birthday. Jay and his mom are coming too. It’ll be fun.”
Violet rolled her eyes. She knew there was no point arguing; she’d already lost this particular battle. She realized even before the conversation had started that her mom was going to throw her a party, regardless of what she wanted. “Fine,” Violet finally conceded. “But no hats. And no streamers or balloons. Seriously, it’s just a birthday dinner. Okay?”
“Agreed. No streamers,” her mom promised.
“Or balloons.”
Her mom sighed as if Violet was ruining everything. “Fine, no balloons either.”
Violet smiled, lifting her mug and taking a sip of the steamy chocolate inside. It felt good going down. “And, Mom . . .” she added quietly.
“Hmm?” her mom answered, lost in her own thoughts, probably dreaming of ways to get around the no-balloon rule.
“Thank you,” Violet whispered.
Chapter 19
When Violet awoke, the power was back on. All the switches must have been in the on position, because where it had once been black, light now radiated into every corner, every crevice. She was certain that was what had awakened her.
She and her mom had fallen asleep at opposite ends of the same couch, and their legs were tucked beneath the heavy blanket they shared. Outside, Violet could still hear the wind whistling low and deep as it danced around the house, but it was so much quieter than the unremitting pounding she’d fallen asleep to.
The overhead light turned off, and Violet sat up to peer at her dad. “What time is it?” she whispered, trying not to disturb her mom.
He glanced at his watch. “Just after midnight. Power just came on, so the house should be warm in a few minutes, if you want to go up to bed.”
Violet stretched as she untangled her legs from her mom’s; her neck ached from leaning crookedly against the armrest. Her dad went back to closing up the house, checking windows and doors and turning off light switches.
Violet went to her bedroom, working out the kinks in her neck along the way. But as she left the warmth of the woodstove behind, she realized that her dad was right about the heat. It was still freezing, although she could hear the old furnace working now, and she knew the heat would kick in soon.
She tugged on a sweatshirt and climbed beneath her blankets, covering her head before dialing Jay’s number on her cell phone.
He answered on the second ring. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours. You okay?”
“Yeah, the power just came back on. Yours?”
“It’s only been on for about ten minutes.” And then his voice took on a completely different quality. “I was kind of hoping you’d need someone to keep you warm.”
Violet smiled, curling into a ball against the chill and letting the heat from his words creep through her. “You wish. You know, that’s all you seem to think about lately,” she teased. She heard him laugh, and she smiled, enjoying the moment. And then she sighed, ruining it. “Jay, we need to talk.”