Vendetta(37)

The old woman contorted her face like she had just bitten into a lemon. “I could ask you the same question, Persephone Gracewell. What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m on my way home. My shift at the diner starts in an hour.” I wrung my hands to keep from shaking her. With the day I was having, this was the last thing I needed. “And my name is Sophie!”

“I saw you go into that house,” she shot back. “I told you to stay away from that family. You were in there so long I nearly called the police!”

“Are you serious?”

She stiffened. “Haven’t you been reading the papers?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about several disappearances and two strange deaths in the last two weeks — all of whom were members of this community, and you haven’t even noticed. Open your eyes, Persephone!”

“They are open!” Or so I had thought. I obviously had a lot of Googling to do.

Mrs. Bailey was still ranting, pointing her finger directly in my face. “People don’t just drown in their own bathtubs, you know. And they don’t accidentally fall off roofs, either!”

“What are you saying?” I asked, folding my arms to keep the sudden chill at bay.

Mrs. Bailey dropped her voice. “I’m saying there’s a wrongness in that house and it’s not something you should be anywhere near.”

I didn’t make an attempt to hide my irritation. Another day, another rumor. “You can’t just go around saying stuff like that, Mrs. Bailey!”

“There’s a darkness,” she hissed, her resolve unbroken.

I started walking again, quickening my pace so that she had to scurry to keep up. “It’s grief! They’re mourning their father.”

She didn’t seem the least bit surprised by my response. In fact, she snorted.

I gaped at her. “Do you find that amusing?”

“That man deserves to be where he is.”

I skidded to a halt.

She caught up with me, her chest heaving.

“What did you just say?”

“Listen to me very carefully, Persephone.” She tugged at my arm, pulling me closer so that she could whisper. “That man deserves to be in the ground. And if those boys are anything remotely like him, then they do, too.”

For a long moment I stared at her, my fists clenched at my sides, my nostrils flaring. I was desperately trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but with the way my emotions had been backflipping all day, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and throttle her. Was that the kind of stuff she said about me behind my back? Her thoughts on my father had always been crystal clear. “How could you say something like that?” I demanded.

Mrs. Bailey looked over her shoulder, her eyes darting back and forth. “Persephone,” she hissed through trembling lips. “There’s a reason that man was called the Angel-maker.”

The Angel-maker. A wave of nausea rolled over me and I wobbled on my feet. “What does that mean?” I stammered.

“What do you think it means?” she asked. “I’ve been doing some digging and I can tell you, their father was a very bad man. I doubt those boys are much better, and you must trust me when I say that you should stay away from them. I don’t want to say any more than that.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? That she actually had an I-better-not-spread-anymore-crap-today threshold? I regarded her warily. What could she possibly gain from saying this? Then again, what did she gain from saying all the stuff she usually said? She was a notorious drama queen and a one-woman rumor mill, and I started to wonder how many people she had warned away from me. Nic wasn’t bad, I was sure of it. And for that matter, neither were the rest of his brothers. They played basketball and video games. They teased each other and flirted with girls. It wasn’t fair to tar someone with their father’s reputation. I knew all about that, and I wasn’t about to make the mistake a lot of my former friends had. Especially when Nic’s father was already gone from this world.

I started walking again.

Mrs. Bailey picked up her pace. “I’m trying to warn you.”

“OK.” I swerved around the next corner, swinging my arms out in the hope they might bring me home faster. “I appreciate your concern.”

“What were you doing inside that house anyway?”

As much as I didn’t want to feed her gossip addiction, I figured the truth might keep her quiet. “I was returning a sweatshirt I’d borrowed.”

“You smell funny.”

“Thanks.”

She started to sniff me.

I stopped again. “What are you doing?”