Glow (Glimmer and Glow #2)(97)

SOMEONE was dragging her, his hands beneath her armpits hurting her. No, it wasn’t dragging. Her feet were moving—weren’t they? Her legs felt loose and heavy as rocks at once, as if they were attached to her body inexpertly and malfunctioning at their task. Just as she thought it, they failed. She felt herself drop several inches.

“Stand up, you stupid bitch.”

“Leave me . . . alone,” she mumbled between gritted teeth. The sharp tugging on her arms and a knifing pain in her head had to stop. It was unbearable. Opening her eyelids took a monumental effort. Darkness and dizziness assailed her.

She retched.

“Don’t you dare throw up on me,” someone snarled in disgust.

She was shoved. Instinctively, she put out her hands to break a fall, but she was too late to do much good. Her palms collided against hard stone, and almost immediately her jaw and then her cheekbone struck the unforgiving surface. She fell to the ground on her knees, whimpering as white-hot pain raged and ruled over her entire body and brain. For a moment, she couldn’t tell up from down or left from right. She couldn’t draw breath.

Then someone was grasping her shoulders and lifting her once more, and her lungs unfroze. She inhaled raggedly. The new, fresh wave of pain had sliced through her vertigo some. As it remitted, she found the wherewithal to think.

This isn’t a nightmare. The pain is way too real. I’m being attacked.

It was the first clear thought she’d had since being struck earlier. It came back to her in a split second, walking through the hallway of the castle, looking forward to seeing Dylan . . . a flash of pain and then nothingness.

Adrenaline shot through her at the incomplete memory, making her veins seem to burn. She elbowed her attacker in the belly as hard as she could.

He grunted and shoved her again. This time, she caught herself better, but the skin on her hands had been torn on her previous fall. She cried out at the impact of striking the stone with open flesh.

“Go on, hold yourself up if you want to. You always did imagine yourself strong and feisty. It certainly didn’t help matters, the way Lynn treated you. By the time you were three, you expected all of us to fall on our knees in worship in front of you. But you weren’t strong. You were just a spoiled little brat.”

Alice gasped. Only star shine provided any light, and it’d been too dark to see her attacker clearly. Her dizziness wasn’t helping matters. He was just a swooshing tall shadow to the right of her. Sometimes there were two of him. But she’d recognized the thick disdain in his tone just now. Tonight, it had grown exponentially from what she was used to at the camp.

“Kehoe,” she muttered.

“That’s right. Let’s make everything crystal clear tonight, of all nights. And you’re Addie Durand. Forgive me if I don’t drop to my knee in worship tonight, Addie.”

She closed her eyes, panting, trying desperately to still her vertigo and gather her wits. Kehoe had disabled her pretty badly. She just needed to steady herself sufficiently to fight. Run, if need be. Rigo had told her she was fast, hadn’t he?

She just needed to buy time to still her dizziness and for the pain to fade some.

Run, Addie. Hide.

“How did you know I was Addie?” she asked between ragged pants. Where was she? Was that the shimmer of water in the distance? Her fingers clutched at the surface where they still pressed. It’s the stonewall. Kehoe had dragged her down to the bluff. That rushing sound wasn’t just her blood pounding in her ears, but also the waves rushing the beach and crashing against the rocks.

“I didn’t, at first. Then I started to get the picture, as unlikely as it all seemed. Fall was too focused on you. Of course he’d want to make sure he got his hooks in you, just like he got them into Alan Durand. At first, I couldn’t believe it. But you look like her, without all the ugly makeup. Lynn, I mean. I noticed when it washed away after you swam. You’re taller and rougher than her. Did you honestly think you could compare to her by wearing that fancy dress and her pearls. Her pearls. You couldn’t hold a candle to Lynn Durand; you’re nowhere near as elegant. Every bit as full of yourself as her, though. There’s something of her in you, all right. I should know. I knew her better than anyone alive. Your mother and I were very close. As close as a man and woman could be.”

That sliced through her shock and disorientation more than anything.

“What?”

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” he hissed. “We were two of a kind, Lynn and I. We had the same philanthropic dreams, the same generous bent. We created Camp Durand together. We carved out the ideals that later became the driving principles of this whole damn company, even though Alan Durand took all the credit for what we’d done. I gave Lynn what she needed, more so than that defective husband of hers. She was lonely, you know. So beautiful. So sad.”

“Prime pickings for a predator like you?” Alice couldn’t stop herself from saying. “Ow. No, stop.”

He’d grabbed the hair at the back of her head and snapped back her neck. It hurt so much.

“You’re not the prized little princess anymore, do you hear me?” he spat near her ear. Spittle struck her skin. Despite her pain and discomfort, the sound of his voice sent pure fear through her. He was a crazy man, shouting in her ear, a man so enraged, he no longer held any fear for the consequences of his actions. “Did your lover, the great Dylan Fall, tell you how your mother died, Alice?”