When Devils Sing(70)

Dawson frowned. “You don’t have to say it like that. But yeah, we do. There’s a party.”

“A party? Jesus, Dawson.” Sam laughed, high and bitter. “You think these people are ever gonna accept you? Because they won’t. They’ll never see you as anything other than the dirt under their shoes.”

“You know, hating them—hating Clearwater—ain’t gonna make your life any better,” Dawson had said. His voice was even and calm, as if he’d long been expecting this. “I’m just tryin’ to get by, same as you, Sam.”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, with your fancy new job you won’t tell me about?” Her eyes went again to the sight of Reid leaning out the driver’s side window. “You his personal assistant now?”

Dawson shook his head. “It’s with your daddy. Workin’ for the Langleys.”

Sam blinked. “Huh?”

“The job,” Dawson said, refusing to look at her. “I start work with Wiley next week.”

Sam’s mouth had twitched into a hard line. She was angry at Dawson for choosing the worst possible path, and with the worst possible man, but also at herself. For being stuck in Carrion, trapped in a place she saw no way out of. “You’re no better than a tick,” she’d spat, regretting it as soon as it left her lips.

Hurt flashed across Dawson’s face, sharp and sudden as a wasp sting. “Maybe I am, but I’d rather be a tick than what you are.”

“And what’s that?” Sam had asked.

Quietly, he’d said, “You’re nothin’.”

Dawson started to say something more, then stopped himself. Instead, he turned his back to Sam, then disappeared within Reid Langley’s car.

Those cruel words were the last things they’d ever say to each other.

It felt as if the Langleys were taking everything away from her.

Sam shook the ugly truth of that memory away, stamping down the nauseating waves of anger and regret that threatened to rise. She rounded the corner of the Tavern and headed for her secret spot down by the water. It was the only place on Lake Clearwater that Sam enjoyed.

As she neared the dock, she spotted a familiar face already there.

“Neera!” Sam called out to her with a wave. She had wanted to congratulate Neera on her win but didn’t have a chance until now. But the girl didn’t seem to hear her as she began coughing something awful, tripping over her own feet. Then she collapsed onto the dock, her guitar case falling to the ground with a dull thud. “Neera?”

Sam broke out into a sprint. By the time she reached her, Neera was kneeling on the ground, gasping for air. Fresh, red claw marks stained her throat, sending thin trickles of blood down the girl’s neck, seeping into the off-white fabric of her dress. But Neera didn’t seem aware of Sam’s presence. Her brown eyes were locked on something Sam couldn’t quite see. Moving to kneel beside her, Sam followed the girl’s gaze.

A slimy cicada lay before them, covered in what Sam realized was spit. The insect’s wings twitched, as if it was caught between life and death. It struggled to scream, sending a pathetic, shrill tremor into the night.

Neera looked up then, as if the cicada’s call snapped her awake. She met Sam’s eyes, her gaze wide and frightened.

Something swooped down from the ink-black sky above. A crow with wide wings and a sharp beak, the size of it unlike anything Sam had ever seen. In an instant, the corvid snatched the cicada from the planks of the dock. The insect’s shrill hum was silenced at once as it disappeared down the throat of the crow. Then the bird took flight, vanishing into the night as quickly as it had appeared.

Sam stared after the crow’s retreating silhouette as a heavy realization washed over her. It was then that she began to understand the strange connection she and Neera shared. The thin thread between them was not made of fate, but something else entirely.

They were two girls, both touched by the devils of Carrion.

“I can explain,” Neera whispered.

All Sam could think to say was “I know.”

Neera rubbed her eyes, smearing mascara across her cheek. “You know what exactly?”

Sam clarified, “I know what you did … because I did it, too.”

Understanding washed over Neera’s face. “Why?”

“My brother was going to die,” Sam said. “In the ambulance, I prayed—actually prayed. Except, it wasn’t God who answered.”

Neera looked to the black sky above them. “The crow?”

Sam shook her head. “The snake.”

“What’d you bargain for?”

A cynical laugh escaped her. “He said I only had to lie for him. Little did I know, that lie would cost me my best friend’s life.”

“You mean…” Neera went still. “Is that what really happened to Dawson?”

“He’s not dead yet, but he will be.” Sam had to look away then. She studied the dark water, watching as ripples of light danced across the surface. “If you want nothin’ to do with me now, I’d understand.”

“No,” Neera said defiantly. “Your bargain was to lie, right? That doesn’t mean you can’t still save him. All you need to do is play the devil’s game.”

Sam met Neera’s gaze. “You really believe that?”