July
Lucy's Age: 19
I waited on pins and needles for some kind of development, desperately hoping that Geoffrey would buy into Venice's plan, but I heard nothing other than Venice's normal check-ins for several days.
Despite, or possibly because of, my long vigil, I was actually surprised when Venice's call came in.
"Hi, Lucy."
"Hi, Venice. Any news?"
"Yeah, we killed dozens of werewolves in a stunning victory that was made entirely possible by Geoffrey."
"Imastious stabbed him in the back already?"
"No, but it's coming and Geoffrey is actually smart enough to see it. I'm headed over to Geoffrey's now to try and head things off. This would sure be a lot easier if I could just tell him about you."
"I could come with you. Maybe between the two of us we could convince him."
Venice swore under her breath. "I can't believe I didn't think of that myself. That might have actually helped, but there just isn't time now. I don't know exactly where you live, but after all of this time I have a pretty good general idea and there's no way you could make it here before Geoffrey leaves. No, this one is all me."
"Just wishing you good luck doesn't seem like enough."
"Yeah, I know, the feeling is mutual. Look, I'm going to set my phone to automatically text you in two hours. If I make it through this I'll disable the auto text and send you one celebrating our victory. If not, well, could you see to it that someone comes and takes care of my body? I know it's kind of silly, it's not like I'll be in a position to care, but I'd just feel a lot better knowing that I'm not going to lie there for weeks. The text will have his address in it."
My throat was tight, but I managed a whisper.
"Of course. If it comes to that, but it won't."
"Thanks, Lucy. You're not a bad sort, you know? You've brought me partway back from the edge and I really appreciate it."
She hung up before I could respond, probably worried that I'd get teary on her and ruin her ability to function once she actually made it to Geoffrey's place.
I waited for two hours for her to text me and each minute that passed seemed to freeze a tiny piece of my stomach. When my phone finally vibrated with an incoming message my fingers were shaking so badly that I almost couldn't bring up the message.
This is the automated text. Sorry, love, it looks like I didn't make it. Even in spite of all the crappy things that have happened I'm still glad that we met, for my sake if for no other reason.
The tears in my eyes made it almost impossible to read the address she'd appended to the end of the text, but I forced my trembling fingers to dial the police as my frozen insides shattered into a million pieces.