When Devils Sing(18)

Neera was grateful for the change in subject. “Sometimes, yeah. Though not as many as we used to. The Colonial’s not exactly in its prime. Why?”

“It’s nothing.” He looked at his phone in his hand. “Well … something. Do you know this guy?”

Isaiah set his phone on the table, the screen displaying the Instagram of an eerily familiar face. The Carrion boy from Room 11. Neera took the phone, pretending to consider, despite recognizing him immediately.

The key chain Dawson had left behind was still in her pocket. An unspoken confession.

She shrugged. “I’ve seen him at the Tavern sometimes when I’m working, but we’ve never really spoken. He hangs around with the Clearwater kids.”

Isaiah’s dark eyes seemed to light up a little. “Which ones?”

Neera considered for a moment. “The Langleys.” As the founding family of the county, the Langleys were hard to miss. It wasn’t so much how they acted but how others behaved around them—Dawson included. “Why’re you asking?”

“It’s just internship stuff,” Isaiah said as he rubbed his jaw.

He’s lying, too, Neera thought. Isaiah had always been an excellent liar, but even after three years, she remembered his tells.

It seemed truth was something that needed to be earned between them again.

Isaiah looked at his wristwatch. “Look, I gotta get going, but would you want to grab food later? Catch up?”

Neera’s instinct was to decline, but nothing would get better in her life if she didn’t, at least, try. “When?”

“A morning later this week? I’ll text you,” Isaiah said. “But you have to respond this time, all right?” His words were playful, but Neera detected an edge to them. Heat warmed her cheeks.

“Yeah, I will.”

“Before I go…,” Isaiah started, eyes still glued to the burnt car. “Can I take a look at it?”

“The Cadillac?” With a shrug, Neera said, “Go ahead.”

As they rose from the table, Isaiah asked, “Any idea what caused the fire?”

Neera hesitated. Though she didn’t fully understand the fight she’d witnessed the previous night, she knew Wiley’s threat was more than just words. The burnt skeleton of the Cadillac was proof enough.

After a long pause, she said, “No idea.”

As they exited the lobby, Neera covered her ears with her hands. The cicadas had only grown louder as the sun rose in the sky. Her teeth vibrated in her skull as the sound reverberated around them. A cluster of cicadas barreled past, diving toward the simmering cement. Neera dodged around them as they collided with the ground.

The pair approached the car, sidestepping burnt debris. Isaiah circled the Cadillac, gaze serious. He pulled out his phone and made another circle of the car, taking photos from each angle. Leaning in close to inspect the gaping holes where the windows once were. Crouching down to examine the gas valve.

Finally, he stood and turned back to Neera. He said something—she could see his lips move—but his words were snatched away by the roaring cicadas.

What? Neera mouthed, gesturing to her ears.

He frowned and typed something on his phone, then passed it to Neera.

In his Notes app, he’d written: I think an accelerant was used to start the fire.

Neera feigned shock. She typed her response: Why do you think that?

Isaiah pointed to the car’s lack of windows and typed: Windows don’t melt like this in a normal car fire. He watched her with those serious, earnest eyes for a long moment before typing another line: Why would someone do something like this?

How could Neera respond? The truth was too absurd. A threat of death hung over the Singh family like a curse, and she had to pretend otherwise.

Carrion was dying. All of Southwest Georgia was in the throes of ending. Why did they have to stay? Why did she?

Neera only hoped she and her family could make it out of Carrion before it ate them all alive.





CHAPTER 6SAM





Sam shuffled through the labyrinthian halls of Clearwater Regional, her muscles and bones screaming in protest. Last night, she’d run out of the exam room before anyone had looked at her, and now she regretted it. It didn’t matter, though. She had no health insurance and no money to pay for medical bills. She winced, thinking of what the ambulance ride alone was going to cost her.

Despite not being able to sit at her brother’s bedside, Sam had waited to leave until he was safely out of surgery that morning. She’d waited until she knew he was alive and well. She’d waited until she knew, without a doubt in her bones, her bargain with the devil rang true.

Because against all medical and mortal odds, Ben lived.

Sam stopped in the middle of the hallway after having passed the same door twice. This was pointless, and if she walked in another circle she might vomit.

“Samantha Calhoun—you not gonna speak?”

Sam tensed at the sound of her full name, but eased a little at the sight of a familiar face approaching from down the hallway. “Mrs. Sumter?” She hadn’t noticed her at all, overwhelmed with worries about her brother. “It’s been … a minute.”

Sam hadn’t seen Andrea Sumter in months, and she wanted to keep it that way. Despite that, she barely recognized the woman she once knew. Andrea’s face was gaunt, cheeks hollow. Her blue eyes were dull. The contrast was stark, compared to the once-smiling woman she knew as a kid.