Alex: "After I heard about Ashley, I couldn't decide who scared me more—her or White Robe."

Hannah: "You can say that again. I didn't feel safe anywhere anymore."

Hunter: "Same here. And just imagine how Azalea felt after, well, you know..."

Azalea Rose Jackson:

Hannah, Alex, and Sara were standing in Stefan's room, waiting for me and Hunter when we arrived back at the hospital. It didn't take us long to apprise them of everything that had happened after we'd followed Ashley, and they looked on wide eyed all the while.

After another hour or so, Sara and Alex eventually said they wanted to go home, Hunter speaking up quickly with an offer to drive them both.

Hunter... I shook my head. You really don't have an off-switch, do you? I wished he'd just stop, just give himself a breather before lunging into whatever situation he could find where somebody needed help—but I knew I'd be wasting my breath if I offered to call a Lyft for Alex and Sara instead.

I let out a low sigh as Hunter fished out his keys, following Alex and Sara to the door.

And they say I'm the stubborn one.

Hannah, meanwhile, refused to leave Stefan's side, announcing her plan to sleep at the hospital overnight if he wasn't discharged. I smiled lightly at her, promised to stay until Hunter got back.

And when Hunter and I did finally leave, I flat-out demanded that we go to his house immediately. I wanted to know his dad's side of the story—I needed to know his side...and somehow, to know that my mom wasn't really a murderer.

****

When we pulled up in Hunter's driveway, he and I got out of the car and headed to the Singleton household's front door, where I raised a balled fist and banged on the smoothed wood.

A moment of silence passed in the eerie night air before the door eased open—but it wasn't Hunter's dad who stepped outside.

"Callista?" Hunter gasped. "How did you—?"

"Your dad let me in," she answered quickly.

"Well, that's interesting. My dad is just the person I wanted to see."

"He's out," Callista responded curtly again.

Hunter quirked an eyebrow. "He's out, and he left you here?"

"I begged him, okay!?" she practically screamed. "He said he had to go take care of some things, but I begged him to let me stay and wait for you to come home."

"How did you...why would you—"

"Because, Hunter, I needed to see you."

I rolled my eyes.

"Callista—"

"Just let me explain!" she screeched with exasperation before pausing, then drew in a deep breath. "I needed to see you so I can apologize. I'm sorry, Hunter. And I'm sorry to you too, Azalea. I was really jealous when you two got together, and I kinda still am. But I know that's not fair to either of you, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry." She breathed another heavy sigh. "There. I said it."

"I don't get it," I said after a moment of silence. "Why the change of heart? I thought you hated us."

Callista exhaled lowly. "Maybe I did—maybe I still do. But I at least want to try to be a good person." She fished through her purse and pulled out two black-and-white envelopes. "Here," she said, handing them to us.

I narrowed my eyes. "What are these?"

"Invitations. There's a staff development meeting coming up at Gallensley this week, so we get Monday off. And I was thinking what better way to celebrate a three-day weekend than with a party at my aunt's beach house?"

I don't believe this. "A party? You're inviting us to a party?"

"Well, that's what I'm trying to do," she said with an eyeroll of her own, placing her free hand squarely on her hip.

I turned to glance at Hunter, his wide eyes staring back as we both held our uncertain silence. He turned to Callista, then gulped hard. "Well, um...thank you for the invites."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, disbelief echoing through my voice.

"See you on Sunday," she trilled, piping in what I imagined was the perkiest voice she could manage. With a single flip of her hair, she strode past us, traipsing down the sidewalk and off into the night.

As soon as she was out of earshot, I twisted back to face Hunter again. "What a load," I said as we walked inside his house together. "She's obviously trying to screw with us." I hurled my invite into the nearest trash bin as Hunter clicked on the foyer lights.

"Something definitely seemed off about her," Hunter said. "But I don't know—maybe she was being genuine."

"She was acting, Hunter. That girl is nothing but a thirsty skank, and you know it."

"Azalea, come on. Cut her a break," Hunter tried. "Look, she seemed really fishy to me too. But for some reason, I felt like she was being sincere, like she really was trying to make amends."

"Oh, Hunter, you're not actually buying that, are you? She's so fake! Even a five-year-old could see it!"

"So what? You're saying I'm stupid for thinking that maybe she's changed?"

"I'm not saying you're stupid, Hunter. But I don't think you should trust her just because she can string together a fake apology and wave invitations in our faces."

He paused, his eyes staring earnestly into mine. "What if I'd said that about you, Azalea?"

I stared blankly back at him. Huh?

"What if I'd said you were just being fake that day after the Mathletes tryouts?"

"Hunter, that's different..."

"How?" His blue eyes took on an edge. "How is it different? You hated me, Azalea. You shut me down pretty much every time I opened my mouth."

I was silent. He can't be serious.

"Azalea, I don't hold it against you that you judged me early on." His eyes softened, and he drew closer to where I stood. "More than that, I'm so glad I got to know you, the real you. And it's only fair to give Callista the same second chance." He placed both his arms on my shoulders, looked down at me with that tender, glowing passion I knew all too well.

My lower lip quivered. "Fine, Hunter," I relented, turning my head away from his gaze, his warmth. "Go to Callista's stupid party."

****

Sunday night, Hunter drove me to Hannah's house. Since my dad was across town using my car and Hunter really didn't want to leave me by myself, I'd agreed to stay with Hannah while he and Alex attended what might be the raunchiest sleazefest of the entire decade. I spent much of the ride in silence, refusing to let my mind wander to all the things Callista might try to pull that night.

"Azalea, please?" Hunter begged after we'd driven for about ten minutes. "Will you at least just talk to me?" He paused. "Look, I know you're mad about this, but please don't shut me out."

"I'm not shutting you out, Hunter." I sighed, folding my arms. "I'm just...not happy. I don't like this one bit."

"Did you really think we could just go on hating Callista forever?" He hesitated. "When's this gonna end, Azalea? Come on. I know you're better than that—both of us are. If Callista can apologize, can't we at least accept it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hunter, that's the problem. She's not apologizing. Why can't you just trust me on this?"

"It just...it doesn't seem right, Azalea," he said into the air. "All I know is I never would've met you if I'd judged you based on that first day at lunch. I'd never have had someone as special as you in my life."

I didn't need to look up to know that he'd peeled his gaze away from the road, that he was staring at me with those big, sky-streaked eyes of his.

"You're such an amazing person, Azalea." His words were ardent, heartfelt. "And I have to believe that Callista's a wonderful person too—she just maybe needs a little more help showing who she really is."

I gave another sigh. "Seriously, Hunter, if this whole math thing doesn't work out, you should definitely consider collaborating with Nicholas Sparks on his next novel."

He laughed. "Was that a joke? Did the Azalea Jackson just make a joke?"

I smirked, but I still didn't look at him. I knew I couldn't, not if I wanted to retain any shred of stone-faced composure.

"Does this mean I'm finally off the hook for going to this party?" His hand reached across the seat, rested on top of mine. "Does this mean that maybe...you won't stay mad at me?"

I cracked, glanced up and turned to face him. My begrudged smirk morphed to a full-on smile. I tried shielding myself with my free hand, blocking the radiance of his caring stare; but it was no use—he was too bright, too brilliant.

We arrived at Hannah's house shortly thereafter. Hunter stopped the car at the edge of the curb, and I descended from the passenger's seat. I walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell, waited for Hannah to swing open the door to let me in. I turned around to wave at Hunter as he prepared to drive away. He blew a kiss at me, and I blew one back. And when Hannah told me to quit being a sap and come inside, I actually laughed a little—even though all I really wanted to do was scream.

****

"It's just so ridiculous," I ranted to Hannah after I'd made it inside. "I mean, I get that he's trying to be nice, but Callista is obviously taking advantage of him."

"No argument here," Hannah said. "I still can't believe that Alex is going too...and with Sara, of all people! He's such an animal sometimes. Like honestly, I'm so glad we're not a thing anymore."

I held my silence, shaking my head with disgust.

"But hey," Hannah said, "we've got a mystery to solve. We can't spend all of tonight freaking out about what might happen at that party. Hunter knows how to take care of himself. And between Sara and Alex, I'm sure at least one of them has a fully functioning brain."

We both laughed loudly at that last part, so much so that I thought we might wake Hannah's dog, who was spread out peacefully in the living room on a carpeted rug, tiny snores escaping its rounded nostrils.

I giggled a little longer, held on to whatever joy I could find as Hannah started staring off into space. Still, even without freaking over Hunter and Callista, there was one thing I just couldn't seem to shake. "Hannah?" I mused tremulously, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning her attention back to me. "Azalea, what's wrong?"

"There's...um..." I hesitated, closed my eyes briefly. "Something's been bothering me since Friday—something Ashley said."

"What was it?"

"She said she thinks my mom is the reason White Robe is doing this, that he wants revenge on her for something she did...years ago." I paused. "I mean, I knew my mom was an elitist, a total snob...but not a murderess. And I don't know what she could possibly have done to make White Robe hate her so much, but...it scares me."

Hannah sighed. "I know what you mean. This whole thing scares me. I mean, for crying out loud, I almost just died twice in one day! I've never been so afraid of anything in my entire life." She shuddered in place.

I nodded my head slowly in agreement. "It's so crazy to think that—"

CRACK!

I jolted forward the moment a sharp snapping sound rang out behind me. "Hannah, did you hear that!?" My eyes grew wide and shot instantly from side to side, fearfully surveying.

"Hear what?" Hannah turned to me. "Azalea, what're you—?"

"That sound—I think it came from the bushes outside. It was a rock or...or maybe a branch just snapped." I quivered. "I think someone might be watching us."

I moved slowly to the knife cabinet to retrieve a six-inch blade. "Hannah," I whispered. "Grab something. I need you to back me up."

"Back you up!?" Hannah blurted, her fear blaring as real as my own. "Azalea, you're not thinking about actually going outside, are you?"

"Hannah, I have to know who's out there."

"Have you freaking lost it!? White Robe almost slit Alex's throat, and you're just gonna go poking around in the bushes?"

I sighed back the trepidation creeping up my throat. "If White Robe really wants revenge on my mom so badly, he and I were bound to meet at some point. And you said it yourself—we can't just sit around and do nothing. You can stay in here if you want to, but I'm facing that freak."

In hindsight, walking outside was probably one of the dumbest things I've ever done. But I was so tired of feeling helpless—I had to do something.

I tiptoed through the back door, slowly stepping into the night darkness. Through the subtlety of misty fog whipped haphazardly by invisible wind, I made out the silhouette of a figure dressed in black and standing very still.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Who the heck do you think you are?" I gripped the knife tightly, steeling myself, readying my body to move in an instant.

That image of darkness turned ever so slightly, then charged directly at me. I swung the knife instinctively, went for the head.

Crap! My aim was off!

The figure twisted to the side, then gripped my arm just as I prepared to reorient another strike.

"Azalea! Put the knife down!"

I gasped, mouth falling open in shock; for the voice I'd heard was not that of a man...but of a lady. Yanking my arm free from her grasp, I stepped cautiously toward the sidewalk and pressed the porch light switch, illuminating the mysterious woman who stood before me.

Tall and caramel skinned, she had loose black hair that curved at her shoulders and circled into relaxed curls just above her breast. Her ebony lace blouse was accentuated by a necklace of shining pearls that hung from her neck and gleamed with the glint of uncertain moonlight that nevertheless pierced the fog.

"Wh-who are you?" I was shaking when I spoke.

"Valyra Evanston," she responded curtly. "I'm Dale's mother."

I gasped. "Wh-why are you here?"

"It's simple, really—I'm looking for my son," she said with narrowed eyes. "Tell me what you've done with him!"

"Excuse me?"

"The Friday afternoon before your date with Dale at the Hotel San Varino was the last time I saw him."

I was confused. "If you haven't seen him since Saturday, why are you waiting until just now to start looking?"

"I'm not. We've been looking!" she screamed, her voice growing more demanding by the second. "What did you do to my son!?"

"Listen, lady," I retorted, my words finding an indignant edge of their own, "I don't know what happened to Dale. I wasn't even with him the whole weekend. He left on Friday."

"As if!" she raged on. "Dale called me Friday night to say that all was going wonderfully—that you were behaving in a much more ladylike fashion and that he was greatly enjoying your company."

I didn't know whether to laugh or to scream. "Well, Mrs. Evanston, your son has a very interesting grasp on reality."

"Don't play games with me, Azalea! I am not above litigating a minor."

"Go ahead! Any waiter at the restaurant could tell you I'm right. Dale tried to force me to kiss him, so I sprayed him with mace. And just to make sure no one got the wrong idea, I walked—no, actually I galivanted—right across the restaurant and kissed my real boyfriend as loudly and sensually as possible!"

It was her turn to gasp, her hand rising immediately to her throat in rage. "How dare you! My son is a gentleman, and he comes from a fine family! You were fortunate to have even been graced with his company for an evening! Who do you think you—?"

"Is that so?" I interrupted, curtsying mockingly as a sarcastic smile spread sneeringly across my face. "Then it is with deepest gratitude and utmost respect that I decline your pig of a son's dreadful, churlish, and opprobrious attempt at courtship."

Had she been a few shades lighter, her cheeks would have been burning red with anger. I thought she might attempt to slap me across the face, but I didn't even flinch as I stared into her hate-filled eyes.

We stood there for a moment, locked in a battle of glares; but it was she who finally broke her stance, left hand rising to her hip as she turned to go:

"You're a fool to think you've won, Azalea Rose," she spoke as she strutted to her car. "You will pay—I can promise you that. You will pay for this."

I laughed out loud, laughed so hard my throat began to throb; and still, I laughed all the more. I laughed her into her car and laughed her down the street, the tires of that garish vehicle screeching in defeat across the asphalt as she disappeared out of sight. I placed a hand on my hip and let out one last victorious giggle before turning to walk back inside Hannah's house, closing the door behind me.

"Hannah," I called jokingly. "Don't worry—I'm still alive. It was just that creep Dale's mom."

No response.

"Hannah? Where'd you go?" I looked around. Maybe she's just in the bathroom.

I walked to the kitchen to see if she had any snacks in the pantry. As I began sliding open the door, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a piece of white cardstock paper folded singly on the floor just a few feet away from where I stood. On the front fold, a cursive note was printed in beautiful calligraphy.

I moved closer, stooped to the floor to pick it up. At first, I thought it might've been another of White Robe's notes—that he'd somehow furtively managed to break into Hannah's home and plant it here before she and I had arrived.

But when I stared at it more closely, eyes homing on the flow and flourish of every letter, I noticed a more effeminate and whimsical quality to it, accented with an astonishing array of fanciful loops.

I glanced immediately to the top of the script, noted that the letter was addressed to someone named—

"Lyn?" I puzzled aloud. I don't even think I know a Lyn. Unless...

Eyes suddenly popping wide, I gasped aloud. Oh my gosh!

I flipped the note over frantically, frigid ice pulsing through my blood as a flash of epiphany surged alive inside my brain.

But as my eyes raced to pore over the calligraphic waves, to find the truth I so dreadfully feared, the slow and deliberate patter of footsteps began creeping up eerily behind me. Terror drenching every inch of my body, I watched as the shadow of a long white robe reached forward from the doorway and merged with my own.

"Oh, Azalea," came a thick and raspy voice. "When will you learn to mind your own business..."