13. Emily
13
EMILY
U sually, I enjoyed Friday nights, but Morgan was working late tonight, and the longer the night drew on, the worse I felt. Not just about my argument with Mike, but physically. It felt as if an iron hand had closed around my stomach, and I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
I lay on the sofa, hugging the book to my chest. I’d lost count of the amount of times I’d fallen in and out of sleep, but I’d tried to read it, and it just wasn’t happening tonight. Every time I opened the pages, the words swam, and I’d start … dreaming.
The only option was to keep it closed and rest.
This isn’t normal. This is not normal behavior.
Something was wrong with this book.
That or I was actually losing it.
A bang rattled the living room window, and my eyes flew open. I shifted the book onto the coffee table, resistant to letting go of it, and managed to put it down.
“H-Hello?” I called out.
Had I imagined it? Had the bang been a part of yet another vivid dream ?
I sat upright, a fluffy pink blanket gathered in my lap, and peered around the darkened living room. The clock on the kitchen wall ticked ominously loud. It was almost midnight.
Another bang came, a thump against my bedroom window down the hall.
“What on earth?” I forced myself to stand, and the pain in my stomach doubled. I bent over and moved through the apartment toward the door to my room, clutching at myself. Maybe I just needed to go to the bathroom. This was a stomach bug, that was all.
All that stuff about the book, earlier, was part of whatever fever dream I’d been having.
The pain abated somewhat, and I straightened in the doorway to my bedroom. The view outside of the window was unchanged—the apartment building opposite with lights on, the inky black night sky.
“Huh. I must have imagined?—”
A black shape struck the window and bounced off it.
I let out a shriek and backpedaled until my back hit the wall opposite. The sudden flood of adrenaline banished my nausea, and I stared at the window.
What was that?
I hugged myself, staring wide-eyed at the window.
A second black shape pelted it. And then another, and another, and another, until the window was a seething mass of blackness, with eyes and little claws and teeth and?—
Bats. They’re bats.
Horror took hold of me, and I turned on my heel and ran out into the living room, through the kitchen and to the apartment door. I unlatched it with shaking fingers then barreled out into the hallway and slammed into the wall.
Keep going. Further.
I ran down the hall, down the stairs, nearly falling over myself, until I had reached the foyer of the building and the cracked glass front doors.
But I couldn’t go out there. The bats were out there .
Bats.
How was this possible? That wasn’t normal behavior for bats. They didn’t usually gather in groups that big, did they? Or maybe they did. I’d watched a nature documentary once where they were all hanging from the ceiling of a cave, their little wings wrapped around furry bodies. They’d even looked cute in that context.
But there weren’t any caves in the city.
I leaned against the balustrade, squeezing my eyes shut. Finally, I sat down on the bottom step, facing the front doors, my thoughts running wild. And clear. Much clearer than they’d been in the apartment.
Even my nausea was better, and it was easier to breathe. I wasn’t as hot.
What the heck? Was there actually something in my apartment that was making me sick? Like a gas leak or something? But Morgan wasn’t sick. And if it was something as serious as a gas leak, I would’ve been dead by now, right?
I sucked in a deep breath, appreciating how much better I felt.
It had been the same yesterday, when I’d gone out with Alex. The fresh air had done me a world of good, and the kiss hadn’t hurt either.
A knock rattled the glass door, and I straightened, biting back a shriek.
An impossibly beautiful woman stared at me through the glass. She tapped on it with her finger, smiling at me with full crimson lips. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders in waves that had to have taken hours to style, and she wore a black corset.
“Hello?” I rose from the stairs and went over to the door. “Do you need something?” After the mugger incident, I wasn’t about to let her in. The cops had never caught the guy who’d tried to attack me.
“Hi,” she said. “Let me in.”
And suddenly, I had the strongest urge to do exactly that and trust this woman. She was so lovely, I couldn’t fathom that she’d want to hurt me .
I reached for the button to buzz her in then stopped. “Who are you? Are you here visiting someone?”
“I wanted to talk to you, Emily,” she said. “ Press that button. ”
I pressed it then snatched my hand back. Why had I done that? I hadn’t?—
The door swung inward, and the woman entered.
“Be careful,” I said, “there are bats.” It was a thoughtless thing to say, and I shook my head to clear it. “Wait, how do you know me? Who are you?”
“My name is Cassia,” she murmured. “And we have a mutual friend, you and I.”
“Oh. Who? No offense, but this is really weird, and I?—”
“Alexander.”
That shut me up. I swallowed. “You mean, Alexander Knight?”
The smile she wore grew wider, but it wasn’t as stunning. It was almost cold. “That’s right. Alexander Knight.”
“All right. What about him?” I asked, and then I sucked in a breath. “Is he all right? Is he in danger?”
“Danger,” she said, reaching for me and grasping my arm. “That’s hilarious. Alexander in danger. No, he’s not in danger, not from any force other than you.”
I tugged free of her. “What? What are you talking about? Listen, who are you? I mean, how do you know him, and why are you here in the first place?” A pang of jealousy tugged at me. Cassia was beautiful. A little on the scary side, but still drop dead gorgeous. How could I compare to her? And if she knew Alex, did that mean …
“Alexander is a good friend of mine,” Cassia said. “We’ve been friends for many years. So many that I’ve forgotten more good memories with him than you have the potential to make together.” Her crimson lips parted, the hint of a salacious smile toying with them. “But that’s not why I’m here. Alexander is my past. And though I don’t particularly approve of his choice with you, I’m a special type of fool who cares for those less blessed than herself.”
I reeled from the continuous stream of passive aggressive insults. I lifted my chin. “I don’t know why any of that matters. You need to leave, or I’m going to call the cops.”
“No, you’re not going to call the cops. ” And her hand was on my arm again.
I shivered.
“ You’re going to forget I was ever here after I’m gone.”
“I—”
“There’s something you need to know,” Cassia said. “About your dear friend, Alexander.”
“What?” I took a step toward the stairs, glancing at the glass doors and the night outside. A figure walked past in the darkness, someone wearing a hoodie. They stopped outside, standing there almost as if waiting for something.
“Alexander is using you,” she said.
“I don’t even know you. Why would I believe a word you have to say?”
Cassia swore under her breath. “Stubborn.” She reached for me again.
I took two of the stairs and stood on them, glaring down at her. “Leave me alone, Cassia.”
“Stay there.”
And it was as if I was glued to the spot, my hand on the balustrade, nails digging into the wood. This wasn’t normal. Whatever she was doing … It was like I had to obey her commands, but it didn’t make sense.
“Alexander is after your book,” Cassia said. “That’s all he wants from you. He wants your book, and he will do whatever he can to get it.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “He would never try to steal from me. He’s a good man.” And why would he be interested in my novel?
“You don’t know the real Alexander like I do,” Cassia said, smiling at me. “I know him intimately. We dated for years. And when this is all over, my dear, he will come crawling back to me.”
“You— ”
“Because he will inevitably get bored of you and your weakness and your fear. But that’s not why I’m here, darling. I’ve come to save you from him before it’s too late.” She sighed. “Even though it goes against my better instincts. You see, he wants that book of yours, and he will stop at nothing to get it.”
“Why can’t I move?”
“Because I don’t want you to move. You’re powerless in the face of my compulsion. It’s the same with Alex. He’s using you and making you believe that you want him, when really, it’s a lie. You’re nothing to him. Just a pawn.”
It didn’t matter if what she was saying was true or not. It hurt. It reminded me of harsh words that had been thrown at me in the past. Humiliation and rejection.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You keep saying that like it matters what you believe.” She laughed. “It’s irrelevant what your weak mind thinks of me or Alexander.” She tapped her chin with a long nail. “But it has been a lot of fun toying with you, given what he’s done in the past couple of decades.”
“Decades?” Alexander wasn’t that old was he? He couldn’t have had a twenty-year relationship with her.
“Enough of this. Go upstairs to your apartment and wait for him. When he comes, ask him why he’s been lying to you. Do you understand?”
I opened my mouth, but the word “yes” wouldn’t come. I didn’t want it to. I didn’t want to avoid Alexander or accuse him of trying to steal my romance novel.
“Do as I say!”
Sweat broke out on my brow, and I lifted a shaking hand and swept it away.
“Now.”
I turned on my heel and walked up the stairs. My apartment door was still ajar, and I stopped in front of it, frowning. Why was it open?
The bats. Of course!
I’d been feeling sick, and I’d gone downstairs and then? —
My mind blanked out. I’d gone downstairs, and I had been afraid to go outside because of the bats. But I’d been feeling sick and then I had— What?
I couldn’t recall.
I turned away from my apartment and considered going down again, but a strong sense of dread nearly overwhelmed me. Instead, I entered my apartment and shut the door. The book waited for me on the coffee table.
My heart pounded the closer I drew toward it, but instead of going over and lifting it into my arms, I entered my bedroom and checked the window. It was intact. No sign of bats anywhere. Was I actually losing my mind here?
I couldn’t be that sick, could I?
But even those thoughts were foggy. A constant nagging plucked at my mind, a need to go back into the living room and lie on the sofa, to hold the book and keep it safe.
I forced myself to ignore it and crawled into my bed instead, trembling and hot. This flu or stomach bug was getting the better of me, but I couldn’t help thinking it was more than that. Something strange had happened tonight that wasn’t to do with imaginary bats.