The Writing Retreat(96)

Daphne stumbled down the hall, her mouth yawning in horror. The hallway swayed around her like she was running across a rope bridge. She was in danger—had been since the moment she’d refused Lamia’s order to kill Horace as a blood sacrifice. Daphne hated Horace in many ways but she hadn’t wanted to murder him. Of course, she’d welcomed that brief surge of power as Lamia had entered her, filling her up. But even then, she’d very clearly thought: No. I can’t. I won’t. Daphne had felt Lamia’s brief disgust as she’d left her body.

The Great Commission had all been leading up to this, and Daphne had failed.

And so Lamia had taken Abigail instead.

Daphne heard Abigail’s guttural shrieks of laughter behind her. The one advantage she had was that Lamia thought she was weak. She believed Daphne had refused out of fear.

Here. Up on the landing.

Daphne gasped at the familiar voice that filled her head.

“Grace!” It was her beloved younger sister, who she’d been striving for so many years to reach. Daphne wanted to fall to her knees, to sob with joy.

Better not, Daph. She’s right behind.

Daphne followed Grace’s directions and raced up the stairs. She chanced a look back; Abigail slithered like a snake up the stairs.

God help me, Daphne thought, shivering with revulsion.

A familiar scoff from Grace. I’m helping you. God be damned.

Daphne hesitated on the landing.

Back here, Daphne.

Daphne ran towards the empty servants’ quarters. There, in the back of the hall, a staircase was already lowering from the ceiling.

The attic. Daphne slowed. She’d always hated the attic.

Daphne could feel Grace watching with impatience. Go!

With a sob, Daphne hurried up the steps.





Chapter 37




“You surprised me.” Roza gulped from a juice glass full of wine. I guessed that, with Chitra otherwise occupied dragging Keira’s body into the garage, Roza had had to forgo the tea.

Three frozen bodies: Zoe, Yana, Keira. The numbers just kept going up.

Taylor had readily explained on the way back down to the dungeon, after binding our wrists with belts from her closet. Apparently, Roza had emptied most of the gas from the snowmobile shortly after Zoe’s escape attempt. Keira had barely made it out onto the road before the snowmobile died. She kept going on foot. Taylor quickly caught up with her and shot her in the back. Then she and Chitra hauled Keira and the snowmobile all the way back to the garage.

“I surprised you,” I repeated dully. My head felt fluffy, numb, filled with stuffing. The same day that both Yana and Keira had been shot by Taylor, we’d been expected to keep writing.

I knew it was the penultimate day of the retreat: only 6,000 more words to go.

“I would never have guessed that you’d come back for Wren.” Roza was curious. “What made you do that?”

“I didn’t want her to die.”

“You think she’d have done the same for you?” Roza asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I considered. “Maybe not.”

“I honestly can’t decide if it’s heroic or stupid.” Roza poured more wine into her glass, then got up to shove a straw in my mouth. “Here, darling, have some.” I obediently took a sip. My handcuffed wrists were completely numb.

“Well, it’s a good twist.” Roza set down the glass and picked up the sheath of papers. “In your story, I mean. I wasn’t expecting Lamia to be the antagonist. Nor her sister Grace to pop up again. Did you know that was going to happen?”

“No.”

She smiled, pleased. “You have a gift. It would be a shame to cut you off so early.”

“What, you think I might have another masterpiece in me?” The sarcasm felt hollow, useless. Roza was no longer keeping up the pretense of letting us go. I knew exactly what she and Taylor would do when I wrote the last word. “Maybe you should keep me chained up and try to squeeze more books out of me.”

“I’m considering it.”

I stared at her. “What?”

“Not the chains. Look, I know you hate me now.” She set down the papers with a sigh. “And you should. But I wonder how long that hatred would last.” She rested her chin on her hand, studying me with her lizard-green eyes. “I really didn’t have a lot of hope for you initially. You seemed so passive and weak. But then, when I found out you’d harmed Wren, I saw there was something there after all. And coming back for her—that’s something too.”

“Thanks?”

“So here’s my proposition.” She straightened. “You will survive the fire that will take everyone else. And you’ll publish your book under your own name. We could probably get it out by spring.” She mused, staring into the distance. “Again, I’ll need collateral to make sure you keep your mouth shut. I’ll need to record it. But I’ll make it easy for you.”

“You’ll make what easy for me?”

“Killing Wren.” She blinked.

I scoffed weakly.

“There are easy ways.” Roza twisted back her hair into a low bun. “It doesn’t need to be violent. Maybe just a quick needle in the neck.”

“And then what?” The calm insanity of the plan faintly amused me. “We ride off into the sunset together?”