The Replaced
Page 48
But undependable? Not in my experience.
“What happened to change things between you?” I asked.
“Did you know they used to be the best of friends?” Griffin asked, her brown eyes glittering like she was telling me something off-limits.
I was stunned, but maybe I shouldn’t have been. Maybe I should’ve guessed all along. Only people who really knew each other, and who cared what the other thought, could get under each other’s skin so thoroughly.
“They once considered themselves brothers. Better than brothers. They used to say their bond was stronger because it hadn’t been forged by the mere circumstance of birth, something as incidental as a shared womb.” It’s true, her nod confirmed. “No, they shared something even more important: experiences. They’d chosen to be family, to stand side by side and have each other’s backs, no matter what.” My curiosity was ripe. The idea of Simon and Thom once being brother-like was almost as impossible as the idea of sharing DNA with aliens.
Griffin kept going. “They believed those bonds were the hardest to break. Except that wasn’t exactly true. They might not break, but they could certainly be stressed—tested and weathered—and those stresses could cause chinks that ultimately led to fractures.” It was almost as if she were repeating a story, the way she spoke. One she’d repeated again and again, like some twisted fairy tale. She reminded me of an elementary school teacher reading during story time, dropping her voice for effect and using exaggerated facial expressions.
Griffin was like that: theatrical.
I asked again, “What happened?”
When she blinked, her composure faltered and her vision drifted back into focus, and she seemed surprised to find me sitting across from her, almost as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “A girl,” she answered haltingly. “It all came apart over a girl.”
It took her a moment to recover, but when she did, her eyes brightened. “You should’ve known them before all that. They were different people then. We all were.” She shook her head longingly. “We used to have so much fun together as recruiters.
“Our job was to go out and find the new Returned and bring them back here,” she explained. “We did that by making them feel safe, special. We were the best at what we did. It wasn’t hard. We each had our own techniques, and we were damn good at it. It wasn’t necessarily intentional, but the girls were always drawn to Thom and Simon. You wouldn’t know it now, but the two of them together were very . . . charming, and those poor girls were scared and vulnerable. They needed someone they could lean on. A shoulder . . . or two.”
No matter how uncomplicated Griffin tried to make Simon and Thom’s relationship sound, it was almost impossible to imagine. All I’d witnessed were the two of them avoiding, antagonizing, or barely tolerating each other.
Friends . . . the “best of friends” . . . crazy.
But Griffin just kept talking. “By the time Simon and Thom had explained what had happened to them—where they’d been taken and how they’d been . . . changed—those girls were willing to follow Simon and Thom anywhere, to become the newest member of the Blackwater Ranch. We had become her new family.” She grinned, her shrug less than coy. “Me, I had different assets. I was in charge of recruiting the boys.”
I thought of the almost-spell I’d fallen under when I’d first met her, the way I’d wanted her to like me, and I could only imagine how unsuspecting boys might feel around her, wanting to please her, to make her notice them. I felt a little queasy thinking of the three of them using their charms to persuade people to join their camp.
“And what if someone didn’t want to be part of your family?”
Griffin’s smile slipped as her eyes narrowed. “The doors were always open. Franco never forced anyone to stay.”
Franco? I’d never heard that name before, but it wasn’t tough to guess he’d been in charge back then . . . back when Griffin and Simon and Thom had been “recruiters.” I wondered if Griffin had used her assets to scheme her way to the top.
“If everything was so great here, why did Simon and Thom leave?”
“Weren’t you even listening?” Griffin scowled. “Their friendship, that bond I mentioned, when push came to shove, it all fell apart over a girl.”
“What girl? Where is she now?”
Griffin laughed, but not like I’d said something amusing and she was laughing with me. It was more like I’d said something stupid and she was laughing at me. “I love it. Love. It.” She clapped her hands together. “I can’t believe no one’s told you. All this time, and no one’s clued you in.” She bit her lip, her eyes bright. She couldn’t wait to drop this bomb; it was written all over her face.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, just say it.” I sighed heavily.
“Willow.” She spat the name quickly, like she didn’t want it in her mouth for too long. Then she sat back and waited for my response.
My mouth fell open. “Our . . . Willow?” I finally managed, super slowly, because the very idea was so . . . out there. “The one we came here with?” But I already knew it was that Willow. How many Willows were there? “I don’t understand.” I hadn’t even realized Thom knew Willow, at least not before Silent Creek.
I could tell Griffin was loving this, having the upper hand. “I figured as much . . . that whole secret-keeping thing Simon does.”
“What happened to change things between you?” I asked.
“Did you know they used to be the best of friends?” Griffin asked, her brown eyes glittering like she was telling me something off-limits.
I was stunned, but maybe I shouldn’t have been. Maybe I should’ve guessed all along. Only people who really knew each other, and who cared what the other thought, could get under each other’s skin so thoroughly.
“They once considered themselves brothers. Better than brothers. They used to say their bond was stronger because it hadn’t been forged by the mere circumstance of birth, something as incidental as a shared womb.” It’s true, her nod confirmed. “No, they shared something even more important: experiences. They’d chosen to be family, to stand side by side and have each other’s backs, no matter what.” My curiosity was ripe. The idea of Simon and Thom once being brother-like was almost as impossible as the idea of sharing DNA with aliens.
Griffin kept going. “They believed those bonds were the hardest to break. Except that wasn’t exactly true. They might not break, but they could certainly be stressed—tested and weathered—and those stresses could cause chinks that ultimately led to fractures.” It was almost as if she were repeating a story, the way she spoke. One she’d repeated again and again, like some twisted fairy tale. She reminded me of an elementary school teacher reading during story time, dropping her voice for effect and using exaggerated facial expressions.
Griffin was like that: theatrical.
I asked again, “What happened?”
When she blinked, her composure faltered and her vision drifted back into focus, and she seemed surprised to find me sitting across from her, almost as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “A girl,” she answered haltingly. “It all came apart over a girl.”
It took her a moment to recover, but when she did, her eyes brightened. “You should’ve known them before all that. They were different people then. We all were.” She shook her head longingly. “We used to have so much fun together as recruiters.
“Our job was to go out and find the new Returned and bring them back here,” she explained. “We did that by making them feel safe, special. We were the best at what we did. It wasn’t hard. We each had our own techniques, and we were damn good at it. It wasn’t necessarily intentional, but the girls were always drawn to Thom and Simon. You wouldn’t know it now, but the two of them together were very . . . charming, and those poor girls were scared and vulnerable. They needed someone they could lean on. A shoulder . . . or two.”
No matter how uncomplicated Griffin tried to make Simon and Thom’s relationship sound, it was almost impossible to imagine. All I’d witnessed were the two of them avoiding, antagonizing, or barely tolerating each other.
Friends . . . the “best of friends” . . . crazy.
But Griffin just kept talking. “By the time Simon and Thom had explained what had happened to them—where they’d been taken and how they’d been . . . changed—those girls were willing to follow Simon and Thom anywhere, to become the newest member of the Blackwater Ranch. We had become her new family.” She grinned, her shrug less than coy. “Me, I had different assets. I was in charge of recruiting the boys.”
I thought of the almost-spell I’d fallen under when I’d first met her, the way I’d wanted her to like me, and I could only imagine how unsuspecting boys might feel around her, wanting to please her, to make her notice them. I felt a little queasy thinking of the three of them using their charms to persuade people to join their camp.
“And what if someone didn’t want to be part of your family?”
Griffin’s smile slipped as her eyes narrowed. “The doors were always open. Franco never forced anyone to stay.”
Franco? I’d never heard that name before, but it wasn’t tough to guess he’d been in charge back then . . . back when Griffin and Simon and Thom had been “recruiters.” I wondered if Griffin had used her assets to scheme her way to the top.
“If everything was so great here, why did Simon and Thom leave?”
“Weren’t you even listening?” Griffin scowled. “Their friendship, that bond I mentioned, when push came to shove, it all fell apart over a girl.”
“What girl? Where is she now?”
Griffin laughed, but not like I’d said something amusing and she was laughing with me. It was more like I’d said something stupid and she was laughing at me. “I love it. Love. It.” She clapped her hands together. “I can’t believe no one’s told you. All this time, and no one’s clued you in.” She bit her lip, her eyes bright. She couldn’t wait to drop this bomb; it was written all over her face.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, just say it.” I sighed heavily.
“Willow.” She spat the name quickly, like she didn’t want it in her mouth for too long. Then she sat back and waited for my response.
My mouth fell open. “Our . . . Willow?” I finally managed, super slowly, because the very idea was so . . . out there. “The one we came here with?” But I already knew it was that Willow. How many Willows were there? “I don’t understand.” I hadn’t even realized Thom knew Willow, at least not before Silent Creek.
I could tell Griffin was loving this, having the upper hand. “I figured as much . . . that whole secret-keeping thing Simon does.”
