Dead Silence
Page 63
“So tell me then,” Chelsea said, stopping Violet before she could go.
Violet turned back. “Tell you what?”
“Tell me if Rafe and Gemma know too.”
Violet chewed the inside of her cheek, and she saw Jay watching her from the corner of her eye. She wondered what he would do, what he’d tell Chelsea if he were standing there, in her place.
Finally, she just said, “They do, Chels. But I can’t tell you why.”
Krystal waved enthusiastically as Violet got out of her car. She wore purple knee-high boots over black-and-white-striped tights that had a kind of, like, jailhouse chic to them. The streaks in Krystal’s black hair were nearly as glaring as the purple of her boots.
Krystal sprinted across the parking lot to meet Violet. “You okay?” she gushed, her arms squishing her friend fiercely. “I heard what happened last week. Rafe said it was grue-some. Said you totally lost it. Puked and everything.”
“Nice. Tell Rafe thanks for sharing.” Violet winced, wishing everyone didn’t have to know every little detail about her.
Krystal released her. “Aw, don’t be that way,” she coaxed. “That’s what we’re here for. Teammates, right?” It was hard to be bothered by the statement though, not when it was coming from Krystal with her big, guileless brown eyes staring back at her. “Oh,” she exclaimed then, reaching into her pocket. “I brought you something.” She held out a tiny blue velvet bag that was cinched at the top with a narrow length of gold cord. “I left it in the bag so it wouldn’t touch my skin. I didn’t want any of my mojo to accidentally rub off on it. It’s called merikanite obsidian, but some people call it Apache Tears. It’s for luck.”
Violet pulled the black stone out of the bag and rubbed her thumb across its smooth, polished surface. It had a tiny metal clasp affixed to one end of it. She could use some luck, she supposed.
“You can add it to the chain . . . with the others,” Krystal told her, pointing to Violet’s chest, and Violet wondered how Krystal had known she was wearing the necklace she’d given her. She always kept it tucked away, hidden beneath her shirt.
Already, there were two healing stones dangling from the chain. One that Krystal had given her just after Rafe had crashed his motorcycle, when Violet had first gone to visit Krystal at The Crystal Palace—the psychic shop where she worked. It was a slick black onyx, meant for protection. Violet had never pointed out to Krystal, who believed implicitly in the power of the healing crystals, that she’d given it to her right before she’d been assaulted by a gang member outside the Center.
So much for protection.
The second crystal had been a welcome-home present of sorts. Krystal had given it to Violet the day she’d come home, after her abduction. As a medium, Krystal claimed that she’d known where to find Violet after being contacted by the ghost of her abductor. After Violet had killed him, of course.
Krystal had brought her a pretty blue crystalline stone meant for healing. Violet had strung it on the same chain as the onyx. Unlike the onyx, the blue crystal was jagged and rough, but felt warm pressed against her skin, and Violet hated to admit how much she’d grown to depend on it. How badly she wanted to believe the stone would work. That it would heal her, make her better—both inside and out.
Violet pressed her hand to the place where the other two stones covered her heart. “Thanks, Krystal,” she said, feeling suddenly awkward about accepting the gift from her friend. “You really don’t have to do that.”
Krystal punched Violet in the arm. “Don’t be stupid. I know I don’t.”
Violet followed Krystal inside. She was always surprised by the way she felt when she stepped through the doors that led into the Center. Even after everything with Dr. Lee, she’d never felt . . . uneasy being here.
It still felt more like walking through her own front door.
It was no different today, when Violet slipped inside, that same sense of coming home.
When Sam saw her, he jumped up from the table, as if he’d been waiting for her to arrive, and he rushed over to meet her near the entrance. They stood apart from the overpolished conference table, where Gemma and Rafe were already seated. Krystal didn’t wait for them; instead she dropped into an open chair and began bouncing impatiently.
Rafe shot an indifferent glance in their direction, but Sam moved to block his view, not wanting anyone to overhear whatever he had to say.
His expression was eager and hopeful, reminding Violet just how young he really was. “I think I have something for you,” he said, glancing around nervously, as if he expected to catch someone spying on them. “Let’s talk. Afterward.”
Violet had nearly forgotten about the photo she’d slipped to Sam at Dr. Lee’s office last week. She wanted to know what he meant when he said he had something for her. But when she peered past him, Sara was already standing at the head of the table, watching her, and Violet knew it would have to wait for later.
She stole a quick glance at Rafe on her way to the table. He was reclining in his chair, making an effort to look as unfazed as ever by everyone and everything around him.
Taking the open seat by Krystal, Violet couldn’t help smiling when Krystal threw her head over the back of the chair, leaning so far backward she was practically upside down as she grinned at Violet. “What was that all about?” she asked, not realizing that Sara had already started the meeting.
Violet pointed toward the front of the table, just as Sara’s ice-coated fingers held up the first image.
Violet turned back. “Tell you what?”
“Tell me if Rafe and Gemma know too.”
Violet chewed the inside of her cheek, and she saw Jay watching her from the corner of her eye. She wondered what he would do, what he’d tell Chelsea if he were standing there, in her place.
Finally, she just said, “They do, Chels. But I can’t tell you why.”
Krystal waved enthusiastically as Violet got out of her car. She wore purple knee-high boots over black-and-white-striped tights that had a kind of, like, jailhouse chic to them. The streaks in Krystal’s black hair were nearly as glaring as the purple of her boots.
Krystal sprinted across the parking lot to meet Violet. “You okay?” she gushed, her arms squishing her friend fiercely. “I heard what happened last week. Rafe said it was grue-some. Said you totally lost it. Puked and everything.”
“Nice. Tell Rafe thanks for sharing.” Violet winced, wishing everyone didn’t have to know every little detail about her.
Krystal released her. “Aw, don’t be that way,” she coaxed. “That’s what we’re here for. Teammates, right?” It was hard to be bothered by the statement though, not when it was coming from Krystal with her big, guileless brown eyes staring back at her. “Oh,” she exclaimed then, reaching into her pocket. “I brought you something.” She held out a tiny blue velvet bag that was cinched at the top with a narrow length of gold cord. “I left it in the bag so it wouldn’t touch my skin. I didn’t want any of my mojo to accidentally rub off on it. It’s called merikanite obsidian, but some people call it Apache Tears. It’s for luck.”
Violet pulled the black stone out of the bag and rubbed her thumb across its smooth, polished surface. It had a tiny metal clasp affixed to one end of it. She could use some luck, she supposed.
“You can add it to the chain . . . with the others,” Krystal told her, pointing to Violet’s chest, and Violet wondered how Krystal had known she was wearing the necklace she’d given her. She always kept it tucked away, hidden beneath her shirt.
Already, there were two healing stones dangling from the chain. One that Krystal had given her just after Rafe had crashed his motorcycle, when Violet had first gone to visit Krystal at The Crystal Palace—the psychic shop where she worked. It was a slick black onyx, meant for protection. Violet had never pointed out to Krystal, who believed implicitly in the power of the healing crystals, that she’d given it to her right before she’d been assaulted by a gang member outside the Center.
So much for protection.
The second crystal had been a welcome-home present of sorts. Krystal had given it to Violet the day she’d come home, after her abduction. As a medium, Krystal claimed that she’d known where to find Violet after being contacted by the ghost of her abductor. After Violet had killed him, of course.
Krystal had brought her a pretty blue crystalline stone meant for healing. Violet had strung it on the same chain as the onyx. Unlike the onyx, the blue crystal was jagged and rough, but felt warm pressed against her skin, and Violet hated to admit how much she’d grown to depend on it. How badly she wanted to believe the stone would work. That it would heal her, make her better—both inside and out.
Violet pressed her hand to the place where the other two stones covered her heart. “Thanks, Krystal,” she said, feeling suddenly awkward about accepting the gift from her friend. “You really don’t have to do that.”
Krystal punched Violet in the arm. “Don’t be stupid. I know I don’t.”
Violet followed Krystal inside. She was always surprised by the way she felt when she stepped through the doors that led into the Center. Even after everything with Dr. Lee, she’d never felt . . . uneasy being here.
It still felt more like walking through her own front door.
It was no different today, when Violet slipped inside, that same sense of coming home.
When Sam saw her, he jumped up from the table, as if he’d been waiting for her to arrive, and he rushed over to meet her near the entrance. They stood apart from the overpolished conference table, where Gemma and Rafe were already seated. Krystal didn’t wait for them; instead she dropped into an open chair and began bouncing impatiently.
Rafe shot an indifferent glance in their direction, but Sam moved to block his view, not wanting anyone to overhear whatever he had to say.
His expression was eager and hopeful, reminding Violet just how young he really was. “I think I have something for you,” he said, glancing around nervously, as if he expected to catch someone spying on them. “Let’s talk. Afterward.”
Violet had nearly forgotten about the photo she’d slipped to Sam at Dr. Lee’s office last week. She wanted to know what he meant when he said he had something for her. But when she peered past him, Sara was already standing at the head of the table, watching her, and Violet knew it would have to wait for later.
She stole a quick glance at Rafe on her way to the table. He was reclining in his chair, making an effort to look as unfazed as ever by everyone and everything around him.
Taking the open seat by Krystal, Violet couldn’t help smiling when Krystal threw her head over the back of the chair, leaning so far backward she was practically upside down as she grinned at Violet. “What was that all about?” she asked, not realizing that Sara had already started the meeting.
Violet pointed toward the front of the table, just as Sara’s ice-coated fingers held up the first image.
