Sleep of Death (Charlotte Westing Chronicles) by Aprilynne Pike Page A

all I can do is hope the Welsh family makes it through the night on their own.

     
    Chapter Twelve
     
    I sleep so deeply I barely remember going to my dome, which I hope isn’t a bad sign. When Smith was around, I did discover that the lighter I slept, the more control I had on my supernatural plane, so maybe that’s okay. But with everything that’s going on, I’m a little jumpy and more prone than usual to pessimism.
    I’m only two steps into the school when someone’s arm threads through mine and latches me close to her side. I start to pull away as fear and adrenaline shock through my veins, then have to laugh at myself when I realize it’s just Sophie. I can’t believe how good it feels to have someone waiting for me at school.
    Sophie was absolutely right—I was invisible before she came. And lonely. Lonelier than I even knew. Except that now, I do know, especially when I see Linden. There’s no going back. Man, I hope I won’t ever have to go back.
    “Nothing happened last nigh t, did it?” Sophie says an inch from my ear, and now that I look closely, I can tell that her bright smile is fake. A mask. She’s so good at blending in. I kinda suck. “I mean, we’re not too late, right?”
    I shake my head , trying to paste a smile on my own face so we look like two average high school girls, chatting about … whatever it is average high school girls chat about. Sad that I don’t know. “I don’t think so. No snow.” Of course, it might have snowed outside of town, but I can’t tell her I checked in with the vision—via the stone—very briefly this morning, just to make sure it was still in the future. I’m not ready to tell her about that yet. Telling her about revisiting visions leads to Jason Smith, which leads to the focus stone, which inevitably leads to Sierra.
    Sophie nods, almost distractedly. “ After what I saw yesterday, I was worried that everything would, I don’t know, explode and it would happen sooner than it was supposed to.” She shivers and I can tell because our bodies are squeezed so close together. It feels good. It feels normal .
    I do have to tell her what I discovered, even if it doesn’t seem very helpful. I guess that means lying. I should be used to it, but it twinges anyway when I pull Sophie toward my locker and say quietly, “I had the vision again last night and found out something new.” Then I rush on before she can ask questions, and I tell her about the empty bedroom—and the more normal room.
    “These parents are obviously severely whacked out,” Sophie says. “Whacked. Out. I mean, I kinda think they deserve to die.”
    I grit my teeth against the suspicions that have troubled me since I met her. Was the killer blurry in my scrying because I hadn’t yet introduced Sophie to Daphne? Was it a self-fulfilling prophecy—did I just create the future I foresaw? Sophie’s proclamation is understandable enough as a hypothetical; but supernaturals like us should be more careful with our words. After all, I’m literally the person who’s going to have to make that very decision. If I do nothing, they will die.
    And I’ll be partly responsible again.
    Even if they are abusive, I don’t want to be the judge who makes that call. I don’t think it’s my right, Oracle or not. “Even if that’s true, I can’t let it happen,” I say tersely.
    She ’s silent for several seconds, lips pursed, before her face relaxes. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I of all people shouldn’t have said it.”
    “It’s okay.” And instantly, it is. Because she sees . She understands. I didn’t even have to explain what was in my head. No matter how this all ends, I love—absolutely love—having a supernatural friend. “What do we do?” I ask.
    “I don’t know.”
    My heart falls with a nearly-audible thud. I hadn’t realized I was leaning so hard on the hope that Sophie would know what to do . That’s her specialty.
    “I think …