Eye of the Ouroboros by Megan Bontrager

Author:Megan Bontrager
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781958228197
Publisher: Quill & Crow Publishing House

THIRTEEN

Roman left in the morning, once he was certain his head wound wouldn’t be an issue. He had no desire to hang around us, be it due to the state of Wesley’s trailer or a simple need to save his own skin. I couldn’t blame him. He’d done enough. I could only imagine what he’d risked in coming here at all.

While Wesley had nowhere to be and no one to answer to, the rest of us spent the next forty-eight hours fielding badgering calls, texts, and emails from our respective supervisors, as if we hadn’t just been privy to world-shattering revelations that made the humdrum of an everyday work schedule seem unimportant. Wesley stressed how crucial it was to maintain a sense of normalcy in order to keep from arousing suspicion, but I wanted to crawl out of my skin. A swarm of angry cicadas had taken up residence in the spaces between my bones, rattling them apart at the seams. I couldn’t sit still. I certainly couldn’t go back and pretend nothing had changed.

How was I meant to return to those woods with the knowledge I had? How was I meant to look away if I saw a set of stairs, an upright doorway, or a shade of my sister?

The answer was simple. I wouldn’t.

We’d all come to a tenuous agreement to consult one another before making any moves. Roman had alluded to an event hosted by the Director and attended by the Bureau’s higher-ups that could prove lucrative; Wesley had corroborated. In fact, Wesley miraculously confirmed everything Roman said about our known universe. He seemed to have a finger on every pulse, a stake in every game—a useful contact to have. Were he less useful, he wouldn’t be able to get away with being so goddamn annoying.

On Sunday morning, we decided to relocate to Mill Creek, if only to keep up appearances. Delilah, Quinn, and I had all simply picked up and left without warning. We hadn’t even packed, relying on Dollar Store and gas station sweatpants and t-shirts that proudly declared, “I LOVE SCRANTON” despite our collective ambivalence toward the place.

The truck hooked up to Wesley’s trailer made mine look like new-age technology. The exhaust pipe spewed pluming smoke as he revved the engine, having packed away his life to follow us home. Prior to his departure, Roman had been relegated to the trailer, much to my relief and his chagrin. Wesley still had a long list of questions and a day’s drive to get through them. Since my home was about to be an operating hub for our ragtag operation, meaning I’d be living and sleeping in close proximity to them both, I needed the drive to steel myself.

Although it was hard to do with the pounding behind my eye and Delilah in the passenger seat. Quinn was a welcome distraction; his habit of singing along to any station we could tune in to was a balm on an open wound.

As we crossed the West Virginia

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