The Writing Retreat(53)

Excerpt from The Great Commission This had never happened before. Instead of speaking through Daphne, the creature now stood before her: a magnificent woman who had arrived from a distant universe.

She was nearly seven feet tall, her limbs long and muscular. Her body glowed a bright tangerine color and radiated heat. Silky hair flowed over her shoulders and covered her breasts. Her eyes were the most striking: colorless yet somehow full of color, glowing and hypnotic.

Daphne stood frozen and unable to speak. She wasn’t terrified but in awe. The thought arose: Who are you?

And the woman responded inside her mind, the sound exploding like a bomb: I am—





Chapter 20




“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Taylor cried as I opened the door. Behind her, Keira blew a noisemaker.

I laughed. Taylor wore Poppy’s pink sweater and had pinned paper hearts all over that said things like Be My Sub, Whats Yr kink?, and Let’s Fuck!

I yearned to stay at my desk and continue writing about Daphne’s meeting with Lamia. But it was cocktail hour. I knew the rules.

“Where did you get this stuff?” I asked as Keira handed me another noisemaker out of a plastic bag. She was wearing her usual all black but had added hot-pink lipstick.

“I bribed Chitra when she went out for supplies.” Taylor wiggled her eyebrows, handing me a Mardi Gras–style necklace made of red plastic hearts. She also wore a headband of hearts that pushed back her short hair.

Odd that Taylor was making such a big deal out of the holiday, which I’d completely forgotten about. But then again, she was a teacher. I could picture her decorating her classroom and handing out valentines—though without the profanity.

“Honestly, it’s just easier to go along with it.” Keira pushed up her glasses and rubbed her eyes wearily.

“Hey!” Taylor cried. “Guys, life is dreary enough. We have to make our own fun. Right?”

“Sure, why not?” I went back to my desk to turn off the lamp and close my laptop. Outside, the wind was picking up. Snow lashed against the window in shimmering undulations.

“Al, are you wearing that?” Taylor motioned at my jeggings. “Let’s jazz it up a little, huh?”

“Yeah, look at me!” Poppy appeared behind Taylor and Keira. She was already wearing a cheap heart-laden necklace, in addition to a scarlet dress and lipstick. Her blond hair settled against her shoulders in perfect waves.

“Did you bring that dress specifically for Valentine’s Day?” I asked.

“Ew, no. I totally hate this holiday normally, but we’re at Roza Vallo’s!” Poppy hopped up and down. “I mean, best Valentine’s Day ever, right?”

“Can’t argue with that.” I pulled off my jeggings, ignoring a twinge of embarrassment that I was changing in front of everyone, and pulled on black pants and a ruby sweater.

“Where’s Wren?” Taylor asked Poppy.

“Oh, she’s not feeling well.” Poppy twisted her mouth in sympathy. “She has a cold.”

“Uh-uh.” Taylor whirled around. “V-Day is nonnegotiable. I’ll meet you bitches down there.”



* * *



In the parlor, paper heart streamers were draped over various animal heads, giving them a festive air. Red pillar candles flickered from the coffee table. The lights had been dimmed, and it felt much later than 6:30. The side table held different types of cookies—homemade by Chitra, it looked like—and a large crystal punch bowl. Six gleaming goblets waited beside it.

“Wow,” I said. “Taylor, did you do all this?”

“With Chitra’s help.” Taylor went right to the punch and began ladling out glasses of the pink liquid. “Is it a bit much? Perhaps. Could I be going slightly insane after being stuck inside, writing my brains out for two straight weeks? Really, who’s to say?”

I took a glass and drifted to the window. The reflection from the fire sparkled in the middle of a pane like an outside apparition. The wind roared, a dull insistence. Suddenly music came on, a jazzy song with a woman singing low and throaty.

The punch was fruity and flavorful but not too sweet. I couldn’t even taste the alcohol.

A pitiful cough made me turn. Wren entered the room, sans makeup, looking miserable. I felt a mixture of irritation and amusement. Wren didn’t often get sick, but when she did, it was the Worst Illness of All Time. It had amazed me that someone so seemingly strong could fall apart from a mild cold.

She fell dramatically onto the couch. Remembering what Taylor had told me, I felt a wave of dull fury.

How could she have lied to Roza that she’d considered taking out a restraining order against me? That I’d been obsessed with her for years?

Unless… had she really believed that? Wren was good at rewriting stories in her mind so as not to have any responsibility. But even for Wren it seemed extreme.

“How are you doing, sickie?” Taylor called, still ladling.

“Not great.” She sniffed. I half expected her to throw a hand over her brow.

Poppy went to her with an extra glass. “You want to taste? It’s really good. I don’t think it’s that strong.”

For a second it looked like Wren was going to refuse, staring at the glass suspiciously, but then she grabbed it and took a sip.