To Dust You Shall Return by Fred Venturini

Author:Fred Venturini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Turner Publishing Company
Published: 2021-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Beth woke up in a hospital bed. Maybe I fell, she thought. I fell and had a bad dream. Trent is alive. That poor cop wasn’t gutted. My friends didn’t eat human flesh.

Her father took her hand, startling her, and she tried to speak. Her teeth wouldn’t separate, and knives of pain jabbed at her skull, just below her ears.

“Your jaw is broken,” Marcus said. “Doctor Gaston says it’s set well and should heal up fine.”

Harlow’s “hospital” was one floor, the old grade school building converted by Doctor Gaston, a Harlow resident. He was undoubtedly a High Servant to be trusted with Harlow’s internal care. The Mayor’s eyes were always watching.

She skipped trying to talk and pressed two fingers on the inside of her forearm, where the griffin tattoo was located—her way of asking about Curtis Quinn.

“He’s probably not dead, or the Mayor would have made a show of it,” he said.

“You saved him,” she said. Her teeth vibrated, and she winced.

“Don’t talk,” he said. He wiped the sweaty hair from her forehead with a brush of his thumb and smiled at her. “I’m proud of you.”

She looked away. How could he be proud of a failure?

“Stay with me, now,” he said. “The Mayor didn’t give you mercy because he’s merciful. He’s tempting you. Do you understand?”

She shook her head.

“Your mother lost her own father to him a generation ago,” he said. “She was hellbent on bringing him down, and she died. Kate was hellbent on avenging her. She died. Now that we’ve been given this chance, I won’t lose you to something as foolhardy as vengeance.”

“What chance?”

“To live,” he said.

“In shame.”

“In peace,” he answered.

She cut loose a dismissive laugh, a reflex she didn’t think through. Her jaw clenched, and a wave of pain splashed through her.

“You took your chance,” he said. “You learned your lesson and lost your friend.”

“More than a friend,” she said.

“Gone is gone.”

“Who has to die for you to finally fight?” she said, hissing through her teeth.

“I have fought,” he said, letting her hand drop. “Fought all these years for all my girls, and not a damn one of you has the sense to understand how he keeps us here.”

He looked at the doorway, making sure no one was around, then lowered his voice.

“Harlow’s not a cage,” he said. “What keeps us locked up? A few stop sticks and a cornfield moat—you think that’s enough to keep a whole fucking town under control? It’s love that he uses against us. Duty. Loyalty. Our every emotion. That’s his advantage. He can bank on us loving our children, wanting revenge for what we’ve lost, leaning on symbols to keep our families safe. He’s a step ahead of us, always, because people who love are utterly predictable. The way you win? The way you live? Don’t fight back. Struggle against the noose, and it tightens. You understand?”

He took his seat on the rolling recliner he had pulled up to her hospital bed. He’d said his piece and left it at that.

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