The Writing Retreat(103)

“The basement,” I called in warning as we raced down the hallway to Roza’s sitting room. She had to be hurrying down there to barricade herself within the thick cement walls. But in the sitting room we saw something that made us stop in our tracks.

A set of stairs hung down from the ceiling like an open jaw.

A door into the attic.

I laughed, feeling delirious at the new collision between my world and Daphne’s. I pictured Daphne running up the attic steps, urged by her long-dead sister Grace, as Lamia followed close behind.

Who was I in this case? Was I still Daphne? Or had I become Lamia?

“Wait,” Wren cried as Keira reached the stairs. “Can’t we just leave her? Can’t we just get out of here?”

“How?” Keira’s voice was raspy; it was the first time she’d spoken.

“I don’t know.” Wren shook her head.

“No gas for the snowmobile.” Keira ticked them off on her fingers. “Snow’s too deep to drive. Too far to walk.”

Close up, I could see that her ears were tinged with black.

“Oh my god.” I reached out towards her but she jerked away.

“If we don’t kill her, she’s going to kill us,” Keira hissed.

“You’re right.” I grabbed Wren’s trembling shoulder, swallowing my own panic. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Wren shuddered but stood up straight.

Keira went up the steps first, pointing the gun in front of her. Her left shoulder hung oddly and she listed to the side. She smelled like the outdoors, fir-tinged and bitter.

I followed, and Wren came after me. As our eyes adjusted to the attic’s dim light, I felt a pull of unease. Just like I’d imagined, it was filled with stuff: boxes, covered furniture, stacks of gilded frames. We passed by a pink velvet chair, uncovered and dusty, with a huge hole in the seat. Stuffing poured out like vomit.

Daphne’s voice, instructing me on what to do, was gone. Now it was just the three of us, moving in a tight pack. We advanced slowly like soldiers sneaking through a forest. I scanned around us. Roza could be anywhere. This was too dangerous.

Wren gasped.

At the sound, Keira and I whipped around.

Backing away from us, Roza grasped Wren, pressing a hunting knife to her throat. Wren’s eyes bulged and she whimpered in fear. For once, Roza’s hair was mussed, her face shiny with sweat.

“Let her go,” Keira growled, training the gun on Roza.

“No.” Her voice was light but her jaw was tense. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Roza.” Keira stepped forward and Roza moved back, dragging Wren.

“Well!” Roza managed a grin. “Another twist: Keira returns from the Underworld! I knew Chitra was hiding something, slipping out of the house like that. Did she bring you food, blankets, maybe even heaters? You’re a lucky girl. Although that frostbite’s really going to take a toll on your looks.” She sighed. “Stop squirming, darling.”

The knife pressed a line into Wren’s throat; blood smeared against metal and skin.

“Let her go.” I was dizzy with sudden helplessness.

“Ladies, let’s not waste time. There’s no way you’re going to allow me to kill her. So here’s what we’ll do.” Roza’s smile shifted into a grimace. “Keira, you’re going to slide the gun to me. And then I’m going to lock you up downstairs so I can leave. How does that sound?”

Keira scoffed. “You think we can trust you?”

“You have my word. I know it’s not much. But consider the alternative.”

Wren cried out as a drop of blood weaved down her neck and pooled in her collarbone.

“Honestly, this isn’t the worst way for me to go.” Roza shrugged. “Prison always sounded boring, but death doesn’t scare me. So you two decide. You can give up the gun. Or I’ll slit your friend’s throat and accept my death. Ten seconds.” She started to count. “Ten, nine…”

Wren’s eyes pleaded. I met Keira’s gaze. Something wet oozed from the scaliest part of her face. What should we do?

I knew without a doubt that Roza would go through with it. After all, it was just part of the escalation: from poisonous flowers, to a needle in the arm, to a quick hard slash.

“One.” Roza’s arm lifted. Wren closed her eyes and swallowed.

“Stop!” I raised my hands. “We’ll do it. Just stop.”



* * *



“Alex, I’d like a word with you.”

I paused at the doorway. Keira and Wren were already inside Yana’s room. Wren sobbed on the floor while Keira kneeled beside her. Keira looked up and we locked eyes as Roza shut the door. She twisted the key and turned to me, gun casually aimed from her side.

In the attic, she’d picked up the gun and pressed it into Wren’s back. She’d made us walk ahead of her, dropping the knife and warning us that she would have no problem shooting Wren if we tried to run. Keira and I had complied.

Now I watched Roza warily, unsure of what she wanted.

“So.” She smoothed back her hair. “Quite a wild ride it’s been. Yes?”

She wanted to chat. I felt a sudden urge to burst out laughing in her face, but managed to keep it together. “It has.”