Chapter 41 Valentina
FORTY-ONE
VALENTINA
My stomach’s still a knot of emotions as we walk into Faith’s mansion. Santos—Rafael—is the last brother to the family I unwittingly destroyed. The man who’s tried to hurt me, fuck, even kill me.
And I said I understood him.
What the fuck was I thinking? Understand him? Have I gone fucking soft?
“Hey, come back from the ledge. I can see you about to jump off into psycho land.” Faith waves a hand in front of my face, and I have half a mind to snap at her fingers.
Instead, I roll my eyes. They snag on the first shiny thing I see—they don’t go far. Everything’s shiny in here, and for a brief moment, I allow myself to take in the grandeur.
It’s gaudy, even for me.
The stairwell, a double-banistered piece, positioned at the entry’s center is decked in black carpet, gold flakes pressed into the dark wood. My mouth flops open when I pan back to the girl who lives here in her black joggers and tattered pink sweater with the collar stretched over her shoulder.
“It’s—”
“Hideous? Ridiculous?” Faith waves me off.
“I was thinking slightly over the top.” Adalene smiles at her warmly, and I just stare. Are they always so…nice to each other? That can’t be fucking real.
“Hey! This guy’s insisting on parking my car like I’m incapable. Tell him to back the fuck off. I don’t know him and—” The fiery blonde vixen, a wide eyed baby on her hip, stomps into the entry, stopping short when she sees me. Her eyes flash between Faith and Adalene before landing back on me.
“Stetson,” Adalene says through gritted teeth.
“Uh—” Stetson’s brows draw together as she bites her tongue.
“Let William park your car. The poor guys worked here for years, and it’s one of the better jobs my mom expects him to do.” Faith dismisses us all, walking farther into the palace. Her blonde bun quickly disappears, and I don’t bother checking with the other girls before racing after her.
I’m afraid of very little in this life, but I don’t know the first thing about girls.
“Faith, the blonde one looks like she might bite,” I whisper shout as she walks straight for the kitchen, just like she does at my house.
Faith looks over her shoulder at me with a deadpan expression.
“You’re not my type. Faith, this house is more horrible than you described. I can’t believe you have to live in this museum.” Stetson hoists the baby higher on her hip, and the little girl giggles, grabbing a fist full of Stetson’s braid and shoving it in her slobbery mouth.
I unwittingly gawk. I’ve never been around kids, and seeing one this close feels like looking through a magic mirror into a world I’ll never live in.
“Stetson, for the love of God, can’t you be nice for once?” Adalene scowls at her, snatching the baby off her hip. There’s a familiarity between them, like sisters, and the ache in my chest intensifies.
“Trust me, when this place becomes mine, I’m burning it to the ground.” Faith pulls a platter of meats and cheeses out of the fridge, setting it on the black marble counter, veins of gold running through it in a pattern reminiscent of the banister. Seems to be a theme around here.
I pop a grape in my mouth before looking around.
It’s all black and gold, pristine, a museum, just like Stetson said.
As I look closer, I realize there’s a thick layer of dust coating every item, even the stools gathered around the bar top.
It’s eerie, like a haunted house, and a shiver rips down my spine.
“Nothing like some ghosts to make me forget my problems.” I mumble around another grape.
“Ghosts and tequila; what could go wrong?” Adalene winks at me, and I stare at her in confusion. Am I supposed to wink back? Forget everything that’s happened between us?
What’s the protocol here?
“Tequila, then ghosts, but only after I get caught up on the drama from this morning—Gus told me we weren’t invited, but it went down.
” Stetson looks at me as she takes a glass from Faith’s steady hand, pouring golden liquid as she waits.
Does she expect me to tell her what happened?
“That’s you, Red. Spill. It’s what we do at these things: get drunk and swap horror stories. ”
Adalene slaps her hand over her face, rolling her eyes as she drags it downward. “You’re a fucking nightmare, you know that?”
“It’s okay. I, uh, I’ve never had friends. You’ll have to tell me the rules as we go.” It’s no great confession; surely, they know I’m a loner.
But Faith still squeezes my elbow as she hands me a glass, and I give her small smile, hoping against all hope I’m not royally fucking this up yet.
Stetson stares back at me for several tense seconds and then cracks into a grin so wide, the corners of her eyes crinkle. “Red, welcome to the Damaged Darlins, the self-proclaimed fucked up crew of misfits of Moztecha, Texas.”
I raise my glass in salute. “Thanks, blondie. I’m ready to learn the secret handshake.”
She snorts, and I see Adalene physically relax.
“If she’s blondie, who am I?” Faith’s lip pops out in an exaggerated pout.
“Cosmo?” Stetson looks at her like she’s crazy. Who’s Cosmo?
“Oh,” Faith smiles sheepishly, “she hasn’t gotten to come out to play in so long, I forgot about her.”
“Is that your alter ego?” I ask wearily.
“Yes.” Stetson and Adalene nod like it’s no strange thing. I let it go without so much as another word, because if they can accept it, who the fuck am I to judge?
“It’s so fucking quiet.” Adalene stares at the ceiling, a sleeping baby—Poppy, I’ve learned—in her lap.
“It’s funny to hear you cuss, Adalene. You’ve certainly changed since we were kids—the perfect church girl.”
Adalene looks back at me. “Dale. Call me Dale, V, or I might scream. Only my mother calls me Adalene. And yeah, I’ve been through some shit since then.”
I open my mouth and then slam it shut, looking into the fire now roaring in the fireplace center of the great room. After several weighted seconds, one of the logs pop, and we all jump.
“It’s so fucking spooky.” Stetson groans, her hand running over Poppy’s sleeping head.
“Try living here.” Faith pulls her knees to her chest.
“I couldn’t. I wouldn’t even want to be buried here.” Stetson shivers.
I shrug. “It’s creepy, but it’s also amazing. Kinda beautiful, in a dusty sort of way.” Faith cringes, and I shoot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I—”
She waves me off, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
“No, it’s falling apart. My father recently left my mom, for good this time, to be with his mistress.
And Mother—Lord, she hasn’t come out of her room in days.
Sometimes, I just want to go in there and put a pillow over her head when she’s fucking drunk out of her mind and wouldn’t even notice. ”
“Where’s Reiny?” Dale takes a drink.
Faith leans back against the couch. “She’s been staying at a friend’s for a couple weeks.
It’s gotten so bad, I begged the girl’s mom to let her stay there.
She was so nice, offered to without hesitation.
” Faith takes a sip of her own tequila, her face souring.
“Probably helped that I offered to pay her a thousand dollars a day to keep quiet about it. I don’t want my parents finding her. ”
“Your sister?” I ask, feeling out of the loop once again. Faith nods. “How old is she?”
“Fourteen, but she’s so fucking smart. She skipped a grade, so she’s actually a freshman. As soon as she’s eighteen, I’m getting her out of here.” Faith’s voice takes on a hard edge, and a shiver spreads through my body.
“You know we’re here for you, right? We’d do anything.” Stetson looks at Dale and then, to my shock, me before looking back at Faith. Just like that, I’ve been swept into the ultimate girl group—not necessarily because they like me, but because we all love Faith.
It’s a good enough reason for me.
I’d lay down my life for a friend like Faith—she’s saved me in more ways than I’ll ever be able to admit.
“Soon.” It’s a promise and a threat all wrapped into one, and once more, that chill sweeps over my body like a breeze cutting through a forest.
“Can I use your restroom?” I stand, brushing lint off my ass as I fidget.
Faith smiles softly at me before nodding. “Down the hall to the left.”
I rush out of the room, feeling partly like I’m being chased by an invisible demon that wants to eat my brains like chocolate cocoa cereal, and dart into the first door at the end of the hallway. I slam it shut behind me and exhale before feeling around for the light switch.
When it comes on, I blink furiously to clear the haze from my eyes as I try to orient myself—I’m not standing in a bathroom like I expected.
Instead, I’m in a room—a little girl’s room that looks far more like a shrine than it does a lived in space.
There are pink curtains and frilly pink pillows, a four poster bed with pink drapery, and a fuzzy pink rug in the shape of a unicorn eating up the center of the room.
In the corner, there’s a small desk, fairytale books scattered on top, some of them open to the last page they were read, all dusty and untouched.
Like an invisible needle tugging a thread toward a hole, my feet carry me to the desk. I look at the book titles in wonder—even as a little girl, I wasn’t allowed to want fairytale things, books or otherwise. Fairytales were fake, as my father said. A waste of time.
Gingerly, I run a finger over the closest book, its pages yellowing from sun damage.
Curious, I flip the pages, each one colorful and full of stories about romance and happy endings.
When I reach the end, I pick up the book, flipping back to the original start page, but stop.
My eye snags on a page hanging out of the front half, only it’s different than the pages of the book itself.
I pull it out, and with it, a collection of other small pieces of paper come fluttering with it.
They swirl around me until they litter the floor. I instantly drop to pick them up, scrambling to put the pieces back where they were—no one likes a fucking snoop—but pause.
They’re newspaper clippings, torn or cut from their original articles, and notes scribbled on faded pink paper.
As I look at the clippings, I notice they’re all from the same town—Whistleburg, Virgina—spanning over a couple years.
They detail different crimes: a theft, a few attacks, a string of murders.
I stare at the last one in bewilderment. The Cosmo Killer? Why does that sound vaguely familiar?
I clutch the pieces, drawn into the web of stories they’re clearly trying to tell when I hear a door closing, and I jump.
Quickly, I stuff the papers back into the book, opening it on the desk but not bothering to care which page, and flee from the room.
The door nearly shuts when I remember to turn off the light.
“V?” Faith blinks at me as I lean against the hall, chest heaving. I yelp in surprise, clutching my chest to keep my heart from jumping straight out.
“Fuck! This place is seriously creepy and big. I’m so turned around.”
She blinks back at me, her face perfectly neutral, before looking down the lit hallway, directly into the foyer where the impossible to miss staircase gleams. She looks back at me, and I swallow.
I’m so fucked.
But instead of calling me out, Faith shrugs. “The ghosts like to fuck with your mind. Come on.” She wraps her arm around my waist, pulling me along with a giggle.
I lean into her, seeking safety in my friend like I’ve come to rely on. Faith would protect me from anyone, of that, I have no doubt.