Sanctum by Madeleine Roux Page A

assumed he had chosen correctly. “It’s crazy how confusing these streets get in the dark. I bet in the daytime you can spot the campus chapel from just about anywhere.”
    “That’s a fair guess.”
    “But I’m sure you can find your way blindfolded now. Does it feel weird to have somewhere else feel like home? I mean when you first got here you were probably as hopeless as we are at finding your way around, but now it’s second nature.” Dan could hear his voice speeding up as he talked but did nothing to stop it.
    “It surely is.”
    Dan felt compelled to keep talking, not just because he wanted to prove their innocence, but because he could not handle silence right then. Silence gave the shadows and the darkness power. Silence meant he might be ambushed and taunted with his own name. The constant stream of inane chatter felt like a ward against that possibility, and even made him relax a little.
    It wasn’t until they were in view of the house party and Abby tugged on his sleeve that Dan realized just how long he’d been monologuing.
    “Hey, motormouth,” Jordan said when Dan slowed down to walk beside them. “You’re being the definition of suspicious.”
    “I am?” Dan asked. “Crap, I suppose I am.”
    “Nobody talks that fast unless they’re hiding something,” Abby added. “Unless you’re really trying to make friends? Which would be ironic, since you’re the one who said we didn’t have time to make friends.”
    “Right. Yeah. I just thought . . .” They were outside the back porch now. Micah didn’t seem keen to let them out of his sight again. Abby breezed by him wearing a big, fake smile. The kitchen was much less crowded at this point.
    “Wow,” Jordan muttered. “Who needs a drink?” He went to the punch bowl on the counter and scooped out a cup for himself. Cal joined Micah in the doorway, and as they talked, Cal kept looking over his shoulder at them.
    “You just thought what?” Abby prompted. They stood in a close huddle in the corner by the empty chip and dip bowls.
    On the counter behind the bowls was a row of candles burning away. Dan stared intently at the candle on the far right, a dark red glob that was almost completely burned down, so that all that remained was the hint of a sculpted jaw and chin.
    “I just thought anything would be better than silence.” He laughed pitifully at his own explanation. “If it gets quiet, I might see that little boy again. Or hear voices. I’m sure that sounds completely stupid.”
    “It’s not stupid, Dan,” Jordan said softly. “I get what you mean.”
    Abby opened her mouth to respond, and judging by her furrowed brow, it wasn’t going to be in the affirmative. She didn’t get a chance to say her piece, though—Micah had broken off from Cal and was now hovering over Jordan’s shoulder.
    “Hey, guys, could I steal Dan for a moment?”
    “He’s all yours,” Jordan said, grinning through clenched teeth.
    “Thanks.” He didn’t give Dan an opportunity to say good-bye, just took him by the arm and dragged him away. A herd of drunken students thundered in from the living room, and Abby and Jordan disappeared into the crowd.
    Micah brought him to the opposite end of the kitchen, where a shadowy alcove sheltered a butler’s staircase that hardly looked wide enough for one. This didn’t bode well—what if Micah was going to report them for running off? Maybe his host wasn’t nearly as friendly and forgiving as he seemed.
    “What’s up?” Dan asked neutrally.
    “I wasn’t going to mention this,” Micah began, wiping at invisible sweat on his brow. “But I need you to warn your buddy Jordan about Cal. I was just talking to him, and that boy was all lit up.”
    Dan mouthed the words “all lit up” with one brow lifted.
    “Drunk,” Micah explained. “Point is, his behavior’s been, uh, erratic lately. This stuff with his dad . . . He’s just unpredictable right now and he doesn’t always hold his liquor