42. Remy
Chapter forty-two
Remy
Claire is quiet the whole way, looking wordlessly out the window.
Getting her here wasn’t without effort. I don’t know how the rest of the night will go. She’s in no headspace to entertain me, much less when I can’t tell her where we’re going. I hope she’s not expecting much, though I doubt she’s got any illusions about grandeur given that I gave her loungewear to change into. In truth, it doesn’t matter what she wears tonight. The all-black ensemble will just hide the blood better than the white cotton top I’ve been dying to pull over her head all week.
This could be a very bad idea, but I don’t have a better suggestion, so I finally pull off the highway, feeling the crunch of the tires on the gravel. She doesn’t turn to look at me, doesn’t ask any questions. I’d be proud that she isn’t nervous, that she trusts me enough to let me lead her anywhere, but I’m too rattled that she still isn’t feeling anything. She can’t stave it all off forever, and once she lets it all in, it’s gonna hurt like hell.
“Almost there.” I tell her, glancing down the path ahead of me. The headlights only illuminate so much, and the tall swaying grasses on either side of the path block out everything in the periphery. For now, it’s just us, but once we get to the house…
The black SUV is pulled up right to the decrepit front porch, and it’s the only thing in sight that looks like it’s not from a horror movie. The tire swing hanging from a fraying rope in the tree certainly gives me reason to park on the other side of the yard, and of course, it looks like it’s moving, if only a little despite the lack of a breeze .
When I cut the engine, she finally turns to me, but it’s not with questions in her eyes. She’s awaiting a command, an explanation. I don’t offer her anything yet as I climb out, leaving the keys on the dashboard, and come around to open her door. She takes the hand I offer and lets me pull her from the car. I can see a little bit of interest as her eyes glance over the SUV.
We’re at the door before I hear the crunch of gravel alerting me that the last of our guests is arriving, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise, so I open the door and usher her inside with a hand on the small of her back. Her eyes sweep every inch of the place as we step inside, the musty smell a little better since Dimitri left the windows open earlier.
“Where are we?” she finally asks, noticing the dust collected on the staircase banister just before her. The obvious signs of abandonment only grow as I lead her into the kitchen, where the few cabinet doors that still remain are all propped open, showcasing the empty shelves. The only light we have is what comes in from the full moon shining through the open windows, and I’m glad it at least obscures the rats and insects that are hiding somewhere in here.
“This house has been abandoned for nearly forty years.” I tell her idly. “I didn’t choose it, but it will work nicely enough for our purposes.” Our eyes connect for a minute, but she doesn’t ask me what our purposes are. “When we were apart, I did a little bit of reconnaissance. I met a lot of people, learned a lot of things…”
The glow of the lamp ahead defines the path forward, and still, she doesn’t look afraid, willing to let me lead her into a situation where anyone and anything could be waiting for us.
But she’s not in danger. She is the danger.
“Remember when I told you some people don’t deserve to live?”
Claire doesn’t look to me this time when she answers in a whisper, yes .
“Well, here’s another. ”
She doesn’t question me as we take the last few steps together, pressed side by side in the narrow corridor.
When the hall opens up into the living room, lit by large work lamps in every corner, she gasps. And finally, I see it.
Shock. The first true emotion I’ve seen on her since… well, since I watched her leave me.
The shock doesn’t last long, because it turns quickly to confusion as she looks from the woman in a heap on the ground, to the senator standing above his wife, a bloody knife in hand.