Chapter3

He crouched so his eyes were level with mine. Up close, he smelled like cedar and cold air. Something in my chest, something that wasn't quite me, went very quiet and very alert.

Him, Vera breathed. I told you.

"I'm Cole," he said, more gently now. "Cole Hayes. I work in the ER at Mercy General. I moved in last week." His gaze flicked to the open door of my apartment. "I didn't know anyone else lived over there. All I ever smelled was a woman who smelled like a hospital."

"My mother," I said. "I'm Evelyn. I live there too. I always have."

He was quiet for a second.

There was no time to be scared of him. I held out my hand. The tissue of capsules, tonight’s pills, and the notebook page with the letters I'd copied.

"Can you find out what these are? Really are?"

He read the page. His jaw went tight.

"Aconitum lycoctonum." He looked up. "That's wolfsbane. Nobody compounds that for a human patient."

"I know what it is." My voice shook. "I think somebody made me like this on purpose."

He didn't laugh. He didn't tell me I was imagining things. He just folded the page around the pills and closed his fist over them.

"I'll get them run tonight. I know someone at the lab."

"Cole." I grabbed his sleeve. "Whatever you find, tell me. Only me. Please don't tell anyone else."

He looked at my hand on his arm. Then he nodded.

"You have my word."

I'd barely let out my breath when my flip phone buzzed in my lap.

MOM.

My stomach dropped. I put a finger to my lips, and Cole went still.

I answered.

"Evelyn." Her voice was flat. Cold. "You're outside the apartment."

"What are you doing out there?"

My heart stopped. How could she—

"There's a camera in the living room, sweetheart. I've seen everything."

A camera.

My mind went white.

If there was a camera, then she'd seen last night. The crawling. The key. The drawer.

She'd seen all of it, and she hadn't said a word.

Why?

"I'm on my way home," she said. No warmth at all. "Stay where you are."

The line went dead.

I didn't remember saying goodbye to Cole. I only remembered begging him to keep the pills safe, spinning the chair around, and shoving myself back through my own front door.

I shut it behind me and sat there in the dark, staring at it.

She was coming home.

What was I supposed to do?

Get out, Vera said. Go back next door. Now.

"He's a stranger—"

*He's stronger than she is. That's all that matters tonight.

But my hands wouldn't move. Eighteen years of you're not strong enough had sunk into my bones.

And then it was too late.

I heard the key in the lock.

Mom stepped inside. She didn't look at me. She turned and slid the deadbolt home, then the chain. She set her bag on the entry table.

She took a deep breath through her nose.

"You went to him." Her lip curled. "I can smell him all over you."

She reached into her bag. When her hand came out, it was holding a syringe.

She walked toward me.

The woman who'd kissed my forehead every morning for eighteen years was gone. This one's eyes were flat and cold, rimmed with that same thin, dark green.

"Since last night, you’ve been digging. I needed one more day," she said. "Tell me what I did wrong. What tipped you off?"

It was as good as a confession.

I couldn't take my eyes off the syringe. The liquid inside was faintly cloudy. Vera surged up in me, so hard my vision blurred.

Silver nitrate. That's silver in a needle. Her voice was shaking. Straight into a vein, it'll stop a wolf's heart.

I shoved at the wheels. I had to get away—

The chair jerked to a stop.

Mom had my handle in one fist.

Her face, the face that had sung me to sleep, twisted into something I didn't recognize. And for one heartbeat, I saw it plainly in her eyes.

She’d rather have me dead than gone.

Then she smiled.

"Evie. It's Mommy. Where do you think you're going without me?"

She lifted the syringe, slowly.

"No. No, please don't—Mom, what are you doing? I don't want a shot!"

"Shh. Don't be scared, baby." Her voice went soft and sing-song. "I'm not going to hurt you. You've just been very naughty, and naughty girls need a little time-out."

She gave the syringe a playful little shake.

"It's nothing bad. It just helps you be good."

I shook my head over and over. "I don't want it, I don't want it—"

"You did this," she said. "I never wanted to use it. But you wouldn't be good. You left me no choice."

Her burning hand settled on my cheek, the same way it had a thousand times. Tonight it made my skin crawl.

"Don't be afraid, Evie. Mommy would never hurt you."

"Mommy just wants to keep you with her forever."

The wildness in her eyes terrified me more than the needle. Tears ran down my face. I tried to twist away.

There was nowhere to go.

"Just a little pinch. Then it won't hurt anymore. And then we'll go somewhere new, just you and me, and start all over…"

She was smiling dreamily.

The needle came closer, and closer, and closer.