The Writing Retreat(95)

“I think it’s worth the risk to look.”

“Me too.”

“I just can’t see you using that.” She gestured to the knife in my lap.

“You don’t think I could stab someone?” I cautiously pushed open the wardrobe door.

“Stab? No. Shove someone off a cliff? Clearly, yes.”

I snorted but we managed to hold down more hysterical laughter as we crept to the entrance of Roza’s room. We paused at the red door. No sounds. So we pushed it open and continued on, past the paintings and statues dotting the hall. At the landing, Wren moved towards our old wing but I grabbed her shoulder.

“Taylor lives here normally,” I whispered. “Don’t you think she probably has another room—a permanent room—down this hall?”

We froze as voices reared up from below.

“Well, go look then.” Roza sounded exasperated. “Chitra, you—” But she turned and I couldn’t make out more. We scuttled down the hallway, past Chitra’s and Yana’s rooms and into the third.

The curtains were open and the morning sun cast an unflinching light on the mess. It was like Taylor’s other room, only ten times worse. Crumpled clothes were scattered on every available surface. Shoes took up most of the floor. There were books, journals, devices. Even some sparkling jewelry here and there, next to rotting apple cores and empty wineglasses.

By unspoken agreement, we went to opposite sides of the room and began to search. I set my knife on the floor and pulled open a trunk. Given the disarray, we didn’t have to worry about being neat. I moved on to the dresser. On top was a tangle of jewelry. Funny, since she hadn’t worn any of it, besides Roza’s rabbit necklace.

Then I spotted it: a glass vial with dried purple flowers. The one she’d shown me what felt like eons before. I undid the chain, pulled the vial off, and slipped it into my bra.

“Oh, hello.”

I froze at the sound of the familiar voice.

From the bed came a thump and a muttered expletive.

Taylor trained the gun on me from the doorway. Her face had a pinched quality and a smattering of acne covered her jawline. “Oh, Wre-en.” Her voice was just as animated as ever. “Come out, come out, or your frenemy gets it.” She gestured at me. “Drop that.”

I’d grabbed the knife without even realizing it. I let it tumble to the floor.

“Come over here.” Taylor motioned to her.

Wren’s hands were in the air. She looked like a fragile, startled deer.

“Now,” Taylor said firmly. “Or I’ll shoot Alex in the leg.”

Wren rushed to my side, pressing her hip against mine.

“So Al stayed behind to save old Wrenster.” Taylor scoffed. “You’re more of a joke than I thought, Al. Man, even after all she’s done to you, she still holds your balls.”

I said nothing. Survive until the police get here. If Taylor wanted to kill us, she could’ve done so already.

“What did Roza tell you to do with us?” I asked. Sure enough, there was a tiny tic near Taylor’s left eye. She didn’t like being reminded she wasn’t in charge.

“Well, I thought it’d be a longer game of hide-and-seek than this.” Her lip curled. “You guys really are pathetic. Just like Yana.”

“Did Roza tell you to kill her?” I asked. “Or was that your decision?”

“Shut up.” Her eyelid twitched again. “I will shoot you, Al.”

“No you won’t.” I felt almost wild with conviction. “Roza wouldn’t like that.”

“She wouldn’t?”

“No.” I glanced at Wren, who was staring at me with a horrified expression. “She told you to take us alive. To make us finish our books. Right?”

Taylor chuckled, settling back into her comfort zone. “I don’t disagree with her. I know I’ve been talking shit, but I think they’re both pretty good. Neck and neck at this point. Keira’s was good, too, but I don’t know if Roza would feel comfortable finishing it. You know, appropriation and all that.”

“Why are you here?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be in Mexico by now?”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “You think I should be running from the cops? Because Keira has escaped and alerted them, right?” Using her free hand, she pulled out her phone. “Let me show you something, ladies.” She scrolled and held up the screen. For a second I struggled to make out what I was seeing. Then it organized, becoming clear.

It was Keira, splayed out on the snow. Shadows of tree branches fell across her body.

The dappled shadow wasn’t just shadow, I saw now. It was also something darker, a liquid speckled on the snow.

“You thought this was all too quickly coming to an end.” Taylor grinned. “But really, we’re just getting started.”





Excerpt from The Great Commission In the doorway, Daphne froze.

The tiny Abigail crouched on top of Horace, a cat bestride a bear. Slowly, deliberately, Abigail turned and smiled at Daphne. The grin stretched too wide and the rows of blood-pinkened teeth gleamed.

Horace’s expression was peaceful. It was incongruous: the way his stomach was slashed open, how his insides were now outside, like a purse carefully emptied of all its contents.