RoseBlood(36)

Mom wraps a lock of my hair around her thumb. “I know you’re disappointed that you can’t make the trip to Paris tomorrow. Lottie says you can go with her to Versailles instead. She’s really set against you staying here alone for the day. In fact, she keeps asking if I’m sure you’re up for staying at the school at all. I assured her you are. That you’re doing it in honor of your dad.”

I nod, because I’d do anything for him.

“But since you’re family,” Mom continues, “Lottie said you can skate around the weekly task rules if you’re with her. It’ll get you out of this building for a few hours, you know?”

Thoughts of Grandma Liliana in the prison infirmary gnaw at my already-frayed edges. “There’s only one reason Aunt Charlotte would go to Versailles.”

Mom’s lips purse. “Yes. She visits her mother once a week. But . . . Grandma Lil seems to be sorry. She arranged all of this for you. Maybe soon she’ll even confess where she hid Dad’s violin, or why she started that fire. Maybe then we can try to forgive her before it’s too late.” Mom shrugs because in her heart, she knows there’s almost zero chance of that ever happening. I frown, because it’s possible Grandma Liliana was only trying to rid the world of a plague, and Mom could one day be stepping inside Aunt Charlotte’s doeskin ballet shoes to visit me in a penitentiary.

“Pretty sure the other students wouldn’t consider a day trip to Versailles as a family outing,” I say. “I’ve already received enough favors.” My tongue stiffens, barricading what wants to escape: that even though I have a few new friends, I’m not going to be class favorite anytime soon. That someone hates me enough to have left a dead crow on my chair at lunch earlier today.

I noticed it only seconds before I sat down. As if the sight of its black, greasy feathers wasn’t enough to make me lose any appetite for the cordon bleu chicken rolls on my plate, it also triggered a vivid memory of the meowing crow I saw the day I first arrived.

Quan picked up the corpse with a napkin and covertly threw it away while Jax tried to reason that the resident ghost cat, Diable, had struck again. It was obvious Jax was trying to keep Sunny from attacking the diva duo, her number one suspects. But a part of me doubts they did it, because they don’t want to lose privileges any more than the rest of us.

“Mom”—I sidestep the bird confession with another, more obvious one—“I don’t think I’m ready to make that trip to see Grandma.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “Oh, honey, Lottie wouldn’t expect you to go with her to visit your grandma. There’s a library within walking distance of the prison with computers. Lottie goes there to check the school’s email each week. So she’d drop you there so you can get on the Internet, check your emails, do some Facebooking. And you’ll have access to cell towers, so you can make phone calls and text.”

I sigh. Regardless that I won’t be expected to visit Grandma, I don’t even want to be in the same vicinity. “I really need to start on the garden. The weather is finally supposed to clear tomorrow.”

Mom nods, then scans her watch. “Just make sure you get out of your dorm for a while. I don’t want you staying cooped up for too long. It can mess with your mind.”

Tell me about it.

Pulling me into her arms, she whispers in my ear, “You have the potential to be something . . . amazing. Please, Rune. I don’t want you to spend your life with other people’s dust and soap scum under your fingernails. Your father wanted so much more for you than that.”

She kisses my temple. Then she’s out the door and in the limo, disappearing across the bridge and into the sunset, as every fear, flaw, and insecurity wraps tight around my shoulders—a chilling foil to the warmth of her good-bye hug.





9



THE DEAD AND THE BELOVED


“Do you know what it means to have Death know your name?”

Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

Thorn crouched beside an array of overgrown chrysanthemums. When morning first dawned, the garden had been pristine. Sun drenched and sparkling with dew. Now, several hours later, clouds filled the sky.

He coiled the shredded remains of a gray stocking around the bright-yellow blossoms. A honeyed scent drifted up from the petals and settled on his tongue—sweet and heady.

He’d stumbled upon Rune’s school uniforms behind the stage in the ballet rehearsal hall the night she arrived. Each piece had been clipped with scissors, ripped at the seams. The one responsible played a dangerous game. But she’d warranted a reprieve, since the maneuver had provided the perfect means to lead Rune through his maze of horrors today.

He hated to put her through more trauma after what that obnoxious diva and her sidekick had done with the mannequin. But he could reason it was necessary; he and Erik were going to lead Rune to the truth she’d been craving. It’s just the way they were going about it wasn’t at all gentle or kind.

Sickened by what lay ahead, Thorn waved away a fog of gnats and fished a tattered vest from the pink shopping bag. In the distance, a territorial squirrel argued with a song thrush perched on a blackberry bramble. It would be a typical nature scene, if not for the squirrel quacking like a duck. Unable to bear the deviant sound, Thorn tossed a rock to break up the fight, careful not to hit either of them.