Bloodline(82)

Only one of his eyes is blinking now. He seems to nod before sliding fully onto his back.

“Thank you,” I say to his supine form. I stumble as I step over him, barely catching myself. I’m so close to freedom, but I can’t leave, not yet.

I have one more thing I must do.

I grab the locket from the back of the toilet tank, the car keys from the hook in the kitchen, and stagger to the garage, where I find Slow Henry licking the T-bone inside the live trap I set for him. I make the baby as comfortable as I can in the Chevelle’s front seat, creating a nest of clean, soft blankets I’d stored in the trunk, and put Slow Henry’s cage in the back. This time, I’m not leaving anyone behind.

I back up the Chevelle into the street, parking it at a distance I hope is far enough away. I kiss my sweet baby’s head, inhaling the scent of innocence. Leaving the infant feels like ripping my heart out of my chest, but there’s one thing more I must do before all my strength is gone. I tug the gloves out of my purse and slide them on before returning to the garage. I gather all the lighter fluid Deck made fun of me for buying. I load it into a bag and return to Johann and Minna Lily’s awful basement, flicking on a single light.

I’m grateful Stanley and Dorothy aren’t in the house. I’m no murderer. I curse them, though, as I squirt acrid fluid on the dais, across the wood-paneled walls, over the red robes hung on the wall, into the divots of the heavy candleholders, into the closet where Dorothy kept me. I empty one can and then grab another, and then another. The smell is overpowering.

I toss the locket containing the ancestral dirt into the center of the pyre I’m building.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I turn slowly, which is all I can manage. Ronald is wobbling, clutching the doorway for support. I gave him a double dose in his brandy cola knowing he didn’t like dessert. It’s amazing he can even stand. He looks leathery in the dim light, reptilian. I step closer, because it’s important that he hear this.

“I’m burning it all down, Ronald. Destroying your world.”

He screeches, his voice part shrill, part slurry. “After all we did for you? All the Mill Street Lilys?”

I’m numb. I have one final question, and I ask it, even though I know the answer. “Why didn’t you just adopt? Instead of stealing children?”

His swaying is rhythmic and picking up speed. “They wouldn’t have been Lilys.”

Exactly as I thought. I’ve heard more than enough. “I’ll give you a better chance than you gave me, Ronald, a running start. You don’t have to burn with this house.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He lunges for me and I step aside, the quick motion costing me. We circle each other, both of us weak. I’m now standing at the base of the steps. He’s five feet in front of me, nearer the dais.

I pull out Ursula’s rhinestone-encrusted Zippo. I strike the wheel with my thumb, calling a flame to life. “Your last chance, you heartless asshole.”

He groans and leans heavily against one of the tables, his hand knocking over a candleholder. I move toward him, the training to help so ingrained that it’s automatic. It takes me less than a step before I remember who he really is.

My realization comes too late.

He’s holding the heavy brass candleholder in his hand. He flings it at me, aiming for my head. I grunt as it hits my shoulder, knocking the lighter out of my hand. The flame licks the air on the way down, meets the fumes of the lighter fluid, and roars its joy, crackling across the cursed basement.

The force of the ignition forces me back and up. I land on the third stair from the bottom, my skin tingling from the flames. Ronald lies near the dais, a crumpled, motionless figure. The fire is drawing a second breath, preparing to eat this hateful house from the bottom up.

I don’t wait for it.

I would have chosen a different ending for Ronald, but I’ll be damned if I’ll burn with him.





CHAPTER 68

Blood is trickling down my legs, my shoulder is throbbing where the brass candleholder hit it, and the tips of my hair are singed as I limp down the walkway. Part of me knows I can’t make it out of Lilydale. I’ve lost too much blood, exerted too much energy. But I will drive until I pass out, because what choice do I have?

I almost reach the end of the sidewalk before I smell the cigarette, untangle its elegant, gritty smell from the rage of lighter fluid and flame. I stop, frozen. An orange ember burns in the shadows of an oak tree, a flicker compared to the blaze crackling behind me.

Regina steps out. “So, where’re you headed?”

We stare at each other. I’m shuddering. The heat of the house is cooking the shirt on my back, but I’m freezing.

Have they made her one of them?

I can’t go back.

I won’t.

Regina finally speaks. “It’s a wide world, sister. We don’t have to stay here.”

I moan in relief and drop to the ground.

“Jesus,” she says, running to me. “You had the baby. You shouldn’t be on your feet, you know.”

As if on cue, my sweet child wails from the front seat of the nearby car.

Regina’s eyes widen. “We have a lot to catch up on.”





CHAPTER 69

I’m cocooned in the Chevelle’s back seat, a warm breeze kissing my hair.