I remember Manson talking to me in the hallway the first time we met, how Annabel Lee said he would kill someone in a terrible way if they messed with her.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “I still want to talk to the Sinners, though.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t care,” I say, finding the stairs.
“Wait,” Nate says, putting a hand on my arm to stop me. He pulls out his phone and taps on the screen for a minute. At last, he looks up. “Go ahead.”
“Did you just tip them off that I’m coming?”
“I disarmed the security on the stairs.”
“Why?”
He gives me a funny look. “So you can go up?”
“Why would you do that for me?”
“Third floor,” he says. “Go. You have less than sixty seconds.”
I think about pressing for answers, but I can tell by the shuttered look in his eyes that I won’t get them. He’s giving me an opportunity, though, so I take it. I race up the stairs, ignoring the slight tenderness in my side at the exertion. The creaky staircase winds around in a series of sharp corners and angles. At the top of the stairs, I step out into a hallway dimly lit with wall sconces. More portraits line the walls, these ones creepy old paintings of Popes past. The floor is carpeted with a thick, handsewn woolen rug that’s been worn down the center from decades of foot traffic. I have no idea which room to go into, but my phone buzzes and I pull it from the clutch Annabel Lee gave me, a pewter chain attached to carry it over my shoulder.
SwiftCode001: 3rdroom on the r. Good luck.
Following his directive, I make my way down and find the door closed but unlocked. I push it open and see a dark bedroom with a balcony beyond, a ghostly white curtain blowing in the open doorway that leads out. Swallowing hard, I step inside. Ican just see the small balcony outside, no more than a few feet in each direction, with a wrought iron railing with stylized spikes running along it. The scent of smoke wafts into the room, and I take another step, wincing when the old floorboards squeak.
“Who’s there?” calls a male voice from outside.
Since he already knows I’m here, there’s no use pretending. I cross the room quickly and stop in the doorway when I see the state of the tiny balcony—wooden floorboards rotting through, a few broken, leaving jagged holes gaping into the darkness below. One of the Sincero boys stands with his back to the railing, a forearm resting along it, gripping one of the spikes. In his other hand, he holds a cigarette, the cherry glowing orange in the damp, dark night.
“Well, hello, gorgeous,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “Not who I was expecting, but go ahead and join me, sweetheart.”
“I’d rather live,” I say. “Are you sure it’s safe for even one person to stand out there?”
“Your concern for my wellbeing is truly touching,” he drawls, tapping his cigarette with his ring finger.
I decide to just go for it, since I don’t know how much time I have, or why they have security on the stairs in the first place. Obviously they don’t want guests up here, so at best, they’ll throw me out once they find me.
“I’m looking for my friend,” I say. “I was wondering if you knew anything about her.”
“I know lots of things about lots of girls.” He drags on his cigarette, watching me standing in his dark doorway.
“Her name was Eternity Stone,” I say.
He snorts, and smoke puffs out both nostrils, like a dragon in a movie. “I guess Infinity Stone was already taken?”
I swallow hard and go on. “She was our age. She disappeared four years ago. Do you remember her?”
“No,” he says. “Why would I?”
I wrap my fingers around the cross on my necklace, letting it bite into the soft skin between my fingers so I don’t release my fury on this boy who so callously dismisses my concern, as if Eternity never mattered.
“She wasn’t nobody,” I say, a tremor in my voice that makes me flinch. “She mattered. She had friends, family. People who loved her.”
“So does my dog,” he says. “What makes her so special?”
“They said they found her decapitated body in the river later,” I say, determination pushing me onwards. “I heard the Disciples were responsible, and since you’re one of them, maybe you might know something.”
