Page 130 of Cruel Pleasures
I gasp for air in the struggle against the Hostess and lock eyes with her.
The other woman that’s crept up on us and brandishes a serrated piece of glass of her own.
A face I’ve seen thousands of times. A face that belongs to…
The Hostess screams out in raw suffering as the woman jams the glass into her spine. She removes it only to twist it back in a second time.
And a third, fourth, fifth ’til I’m lying underneath another bloody, gory murder.
The Hostess’s cries fade as she tips over and falls on top of me. Heart racing and slick with sweat and blood, I push and scramble and kick my way out from under her. I’m desperate and frantic, wide-eyed as I rise up in hopes we’ll be face-to-face.
We’ll meet again.
But it’s like the warped room of mirrors has shifted yet again.
Because, just as quickly as she’d appeared, Lyra’s nowhere to be found.
33. Ryu
5:57 - Movement
Imani emerges from a secret passage on the ground floor. The wall slides to the side and she steps through, her face glazed over in a trance.
Archer and I rush toward her before she can slump and fall over. We’ve spent the last ten minutes attempting to find her. The Hostess escaped through one of the many hidden passages in the manor, taking Imani with her.
We couldn’t get the passage to open back up since she had destroyed the statue, which served as the lever to activate it.
Familiar with the manor and its internal layout, Archer had led the way in our search. He insisted they would come out through another passage that was on the second floor. We were able to get the passage open only to discover it was the wrong one.
“I mostly use the tunnel that leads to my workshop. There are almost a dozen in this house I’m sure my mother has memorized,” he’d gritted out, a vein pulsing in his brow.
He was as angry and desperate as I was.
We knew we needed to find her as soon as possible. She couldn’t be left alone with the Hostess for long if she were to survive.
“What happened?” Archer asks. He wraps an arm around Imani’s waist and picks up the slack where her body has failed—she’s sagged against him as he walks her tucked into his side. “Did she get away?”
I reach for the bloody glass shard clenched within Imani’s hand. “It looks like either she’s seriously injured or she’s no longer with us.”
“She’s…” Imani shakes her head and her throat works on her next swallow. “She’s…”
“It’s okay, minx. Don’t overextend yourself. You’ve been through it.”
“Upstairs?” I ask.
Archer nods. “We need to get her out of this gown. Seems like the corset is making it hard for her to catch her breath.”
We take Imani up to her bedroom. The halls feel more reminiscent of a cemetery than a manor once full of dozens of people. Silence serves as a loud backdrop to our footsteps as we make it up the stairs and down the halls.
But as vacant and quiet as the manor has become in the last few hours, another untold presence looms. Twice I pause during our trip up to Imani’s room and peer around at our surroundings.
“What is it?” Archer asks, on guard at once.
“Nothing.”
It might be. Or it could be something else altogether.
Time will have to tell.
