Chapter 9 #2
“I’m fine,” I lie again, squeezing my eyes shut. I want to tell her that I’m scared. That I have no clue what I’m doing. But I’ve never been good at opening up and letting others in. And I hate myself for not being able to.
“Okay.” She doesn’t sound sure. That makes two of us. “If you’re sure.”
“Really, I’m fine,” I repeat, more to myself than her.
“You’ve said fine three times.”
I hesitate. We agreed not to involve ourselves in each other’s murders; that way, we were not complicit, just silent cheerleaders waiting with a cup of tea and a hug after it’s over.
But I’ve helped Laine move bodies.
And Nola gave Laine a gun.
Maybe we’re getting involved with each other way more than we should. I really shouldn’t involve them any more than I already have. But when she sounds even less convinced, I end up explaining about the old newspaper clipping and the morality clause.
“You know your father can be…”
“A criminal? Yes, I know.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I have to stay. It’s the only way I can find out what happened to Nell.”
“And kill the bastard.”
“That too. I just need more time.”
“Look. I’ve got to get back to work. Why don’t…meet me…tomorrow…?” Her voice cuts off again, but I think she’s asking to meet up since I skipped the last few group therapy sessions.
“I can try.” I drag in a breath.
“Hold on, Sage? This line is so bad.” There’s crackling and then nothing.
“Laine?” I spin around, trying to restore the signal.
“I’m here. That’s better. I can hear you now.”
“I said, I can try, but listen, I can’t be sure I’ll find a way to get off this island without an escort.”
“Okay, where can you get to if you could?”
I think of one place. “Fleet shopping center?”
“I know it.” There’s muffling while Lane talks to someone with her, and then she comes back on the line. “So let’s do this. Nola and I will have our lunch at Betsy’s veggie burger place every day this week. If you can make it, great; if you can’t, no big deal.”
“Okay. What time?”
“Around noon. Also, Jaxon says he’ll skin that son of a bitch alive for you if you want. Just say the word.”
Her words make me want to kiss Jaxon, and I don’t do men with eyelashes longer than I do.
“Tell him thanks…But no, she was my sister. I want to gut him myself.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s true.
“I have no doubt that you do. And will,” Laine says after a pause.
Oh, I said that last part out loud. Did I mean to? I think I did.
“Get a knife with a sharp, serrated edge,” is her follow-up tip.
Between Laine and Nola, Laine is the one who scares me the most. Serial killers will do that, I suppose.
“I will,” I hear myself say, as though this is the most normal conversation in the world. I can almost see her grinning back at that, fingers crossed over, signifying our pact.
Sighing, I hang up.
Above me, the sun pulses over the island, bleeding light across the sky, blurring with the water in the distance. It’s stunning, but it’s also getting late.
I walk away from the tower, to the edge of the terrace, and look down.
A sheer drop greets me, over thirty feet onto rocks slick with emerald moss, their jagged edges crumbling toward the lake below. I let the fear of falling zip through my veins, as if flirting with death might bring me closer to understanding what happened to my sister here.
Secrets don’t stay buried. They eventually spill out, trusted to someone in the dead of night. Or mistakes are made. Everyone fucks up, even monsters.
“You think you’ve gotten away with it,” I whisper, staring into the depths of the water. “You haven’t.”
For a second, I see something floating beneath a clump of reeds—a body. Cold dread snakes down my spine, coiling tight. I snatch back before I can think, but then it’s gone when I look again. There’s nothing there.
I force a breath.
It’s just a lake.
But the wind disagrees; it pushes against me so hard that I’m shoved against the support behind me. Only it’s warm and solid, and it moves. I stumble back.
A scream locks in my throat.
Everything rushes up around me.
I grab for something to hold on to, but there’s nothing. I fall…and land on my ass with a heavy bump.
“Seriously? Now you’re falling at my feet.”
I squint up into the glaring sun. He’s standing over me, but I can’t see his face. Not until he shifts, blocking the light.
Not that I need to see him.
I know that drawl anywhere.
Severin.
The sun behind his head glows like a halo…but there’s no niceness in his expression. He doesn’t even offer to help me up. Who watches someone fall over and just stands there? The monster who killed my sister, that’s who.
Lungs tight, heart hammering, I drag in a breath and get to my feet, making a fuss of straightening my dress, avoiding both Severin’s gaze and the edge I nearly slipped over. Both are equally dangerous, but I can feel his attention, hot and steady, burning into me where I stand.
He waits, watching.
Finally, reluctantly, I meet his eyes. “If you’ve come to make me get on the boat, you’re going to be disappointed.”
His green eyes are dark, like a forest in the shade, as he looks at me intently, as though trying to make me out, dissecting me into parts. He steps closer, and his presence envelopes me like smoke, all leather and cedarwood.
I tell myself it’s suffocating, but it really isn’t.
It’s kind of nice.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” When he speaks, his voice is low, almost through gritted teeth.
“I was…er, making a phone call.”
“By killing yourself in the process? What part of no one is allowed up here did you not understand? This area is off limits for a reason. These walls are centuries old and rotting. The walkway on which you and I are standing has no support after the fire ravaged the building. All it takes is one gust of wind, and you’d be over that wall, smashed against the rocks below before you could even scream. ”
It’s the most he’s said to me since I arrived.
“I-I was told it was safe.”
“Who told you?”
“Mundel.”
A dark look flickers across his face, but hardens into irritation before I can blink. “Mundel?”
“Why would he—” Then his voice goes flat. “And you believed him? Without question?”
I start to take a step back, but the turret platform is smaller than I thought.
“Don’t—” He grabs me, fingers digging into my shoulder like iron as he hauls me back from the ledge. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
I steady myself, brush off his grip. “That’s funny,” I murmur. “I didn’t think you had a heart.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Severin glowers as though I’m the bane of his life, which is amusing when you consider that he’s the bane of mine. I try to walk past him, but he blocks my path. Then, without warning, he hauls me against him.
The world tilts violently.
I give a little scream as he throws me over his shoulder so I’m upside down, in what I can only imagine is a fireman’s lift. Then he starts down the steps, carrying me like I’m nothing.
Every jarring step makes me feel like I’m going to slip right off his shoulder and then die from shame.
“Stop it. Put me down!” I keep on yelling at him, clawing his back, but he doesn’t stop.
At the bottom of the turret stairs, he finally comes to his senses and drops me like a hot coal onto the ground. But my legs are like jelly, and I crumple (again) at his feet. My face feels hot, my blood spikey as it surges through my veins. And something else…
When he held me, the feel of him so close made my stomach tighten into knots. It’s still knotted now, low in my belly, like a tightening between my thighs. Matching pace with my heart still fluttering like a trapped baby bird.
I don’t like it.
Swallowing it down, I focus instead on the red swarming across my vision, which isn’t difficult. Being carried like that wasn’t very nice, and I’m so tired of being manhandled. So sick of this island with its secret rooms and dangerous staircases.
I’m done.
“Why did you grab me like that?” I gasp, trying not to sound breathless.
He gives me an irritated look like I’m being unreasonable. “I’ll be dammed if I’m going to let you break your neck on my grounds minutes before you’re no longer my problem.”
His problem.
“I could have walked down myself.” I’m trying to stand up, but the ground is uneven, and the asshole is just staring at me, watching me fall all over again.
After a minute, he rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, offering me his hand. “You can’t even stand upright. How do you manage in life?”
I slap his hand away. “I don’t need your help.”
“Don’t you? Because you stumble about the place like a newborn foal on acid.” His jaw tenses, sharp enough to cut, like he’s biting back something worse.
He reaches for me.
“I said. I don’t need your help.”
Severin looks down at me with hooded eyes, obviously not impressed, but there’s a faint curl to his lips that’s completely unexpected. He’s laughing at me. “Got it. And you’re not getting on the boat, I take it?”
“No.”
“What if I pick you up, carry you there, and dump you on it?”
“I’ll…I’ll scream.”
“I like screaming.”
“I’ll cry.”
His eyes darken, and his brow furrows. There…that shut him up.
To my chagrin, he folds his arms and just stands there, watching while I struggle to my feet. Finally, I manage it, alone. But he doesn’t touch me again.
I’m so angry that I tramp back the way I came, wondering when exactly he’s going to pick me up and take me to the boat.
He doesn’t. But I feel his eyes on me the whole time, setting every nerve in my body alight as I pick my way through the bracken and cling to the wet stone like a limpet where the footing isn’t great. He doesn’t offer to help any of those times either.
Good. I don’t want him to.
At the bottom of the lawn, I march off to the other side of the trees, away from Grayfleet.
I don’t care where I end up. The last thing I want is to be trapped inside those suffocating walls with him.
Right now, I’d like to be anywhere else, alone and out of sight of the house where he can’t watch me from its windows.
Thankfully, he doesn’t follow.
I end up in an old orchard. Storming through the gnarled trees, I kick at the rotten apples in the grass.
At the foot of the largest tree, I rest against the bark and look around.
Some of the branches still bear fruit, albeit pale yellow and bruised, but its trunk is wide enough to hide behind, just in time for hot tears to come.
They stream down my cheeks before I can stop them.
Nothing like a good cry to scare the men away.
Why do I keep crying? And why do I keep running into that asshat at the worst times? What was he doing up there?
A chill creeps over my skin. Was he there to… no.
Surely not.
He couldn’t have been there to push me off? Could he? Maybe I should have let him. Perhaps then the police and my parents would finally listen, and Severin would be investigated.
But the memory of crumbling stone beneath my feet, of Troy Severin’s iron grip yanking me back from the edge, plays on repeat in my mind.
As much as I hate to admit it…he saved me.
So why was he up there, then?
Watching you, Nell cackles.
A while later, someone steps in front of me. I blink up to see their face through the sunlight. It’s Mrs. Oakley, holding what looks to be a flask.
“Here, I thought you might need this.”
Dusting my fingers over my damp cheeks, I wipe away the stray tears still clinging to my skin.
“What is it?”
“A flask of hot tea.”
Of course. Tea. Because that makes everything better. “Yorkshire?” I have a hope.
She gives me a look. “No, Fleetwater.”
“Nothing stronger?” I joke. The local tea is the strongest there is. It’s blacker than tar.
Her lips curl as she unscrews the lid, pouring out a cup and handing it to me. “Fleetwater is full of iron.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips, too, as I take the tea from her, trying not to shake. “My mother always used to say that.”
“Then she’s a clever woman.”
I squash down the hollow feeling inside, the one I’ve come to accept as missing my mother, before it takes hold and draws out even more tears.
After our father went bankrupt and cheated on her with one time too many, Mum found a boyfriend, and eventually she moved to our London flat.
I hardly ever saw her after that. The house in Templevale is always empty now, unless you count my father’s men prowling the grounds with rifles, looking for reasons to shoot things.
I may miss Nell more; we were closer, but on days like this, I miss Mum too. She was different when I was younger. She listened then, actually saw me.
Mrs. Oakley must see it on my face, because she gives me a look that says she’s decided to look out for me, as though she understands but doesn’t have the words. No one seems to know what to say to me these days, so she’s not alone.
“How did you know where I was?”
“Master Troy said you’d taken a tumble and were likely in the orchard.” I must look surprised that he did, because she sighs. “Would you like to help me make lunch? I’m baking fresh bread.”
“Oh, I love baking.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You know?”
“I used to buy pies from your mother’s bakery back in the day. You worked there, too, didn’t you?”
I smile at her. I did for a little while when I could leave the house. It was the only place my father trusted me to be other than under his supervision, especially after the accident. Apart from the pact, baking is all I have.
She smiles back. “Just call me Kathy like everyone else.” But just as quickly, the smile fades into a frown as I stand up and start walking.
“We should get you some fresh clothes, too, if you’re staying,” she says, coming up beside me.
“You’re scaring the wildlife walking around like that. ” She side-eyes my dress.
I frown, then twist to look at what she’s indicating. It’s then that I see the enormous rip down the back of it.
When we get to the kitchen, I help Mrs. Oakley bake, and I actually have a lovely afternoon, kneading dough, chatting about rising techniques, that I almost forget why I’m even here at all.
There’s even a text later from Laine to cheer me up. Somehow, despite being cut off from the rest of the world, the odd message seems to get through right when I need it.
Remember, tea, sympathy, and pancakes are always available at my house 24/7
I smile and type back a teary-eyed but smiling emoji, remembering that my friends are always there right when I need them.