Page 112 of Liars and Liaisons

I pull back, pressing my hands to her cheeks, her sides, her hips. Anywhere I can reach, I drag my fingers over repeatedly, as if simply trying to prove to myself that she’s real.

She’s slick with sweat, with dried blood around her lips, and I’ve never been more in love than at this exact moment.

My heart thrums happily inside my chest, finally whole with her in my arms.

But her eyes are wide, panicked. She opens her mouth to say something—scream, cry, I don’t know—when a blunt object whacks against the back of my head. I push Violet down, out of the way, and I spin on the assailant, unsurprised to find my brother holding our father’s walking stick above his head. A brief flashback to this exact situation when I was a kid, except back then, it was my father, who had two hundred pounds on me, and all I could do was lie there and take it.

My knee comes up, driving into his groin before he can land another blow. Then, I curl my fist and throw it into the side of his face, pouncing when he stumbles back. We roll to the floor, knocking over a bedside lamp; I snatch a shard as it shatters on the ground, holding it beneath Nathaniel’s chin once I’ve managed to pin him.

The walking stick rolls out of his hand, and he just grins up at me. “Aw, you finally decided to join the fun. Too bad you missed the little show your girl and I were giving Dad. I think you would’ve liked seeing her mouth fall open when I had my fingers inside her.”

I press the jagged edge into his skin, reveling in the little beads of blood that percolate beneath the sudden force. “I should’ve killed you the first fucking time you touched her.”

“Yeah,” he says, dipping his chin so more blood rushes out. It glides down his neck like droplets of rain racing to the finish line. “You should have. Maybe you’d still have your little housekeepers. Hell, you should’ve killed me when I started fucking your student—”

My fist launches into the middle of his face again, and the sickening crack of bone snapping under my punch fills the air. Frissons of excited energy buzz in my head, and I do it once more, ignoring the pain swimming through my knuckles and numbing my wrist.

I’ve never gotten into a fight before; since I was a kid, I always preferred to let someone else do the grunt work because fighting could mean the difference between being able to play music or not.

Right now, I would happily give music up altogether if it meant making my brother pay.

He’s laughing, all while I pummel him to a bloody, bruised pulp, and I think for a moment that he’s actually lost his fucking mind.

And then I feel it.

I can tell without even looking down that there’s a pistol flush with my ribs. I’m not sure where he grabbed it from; only that I can hear the safety click off as the glass cuts him deeper, and I freeze in place, my stomach rolling.

A blur of movement starts behind me, and Nathaniel tsks.

“Don’t be the reason I shoot him right now, Violet. We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.” He slides his dark gaze to mine, completely devoid of emotion. “Come on out, Sydney.”

The air in the room seems to tank thirty degrees, turning even icier than it was moments ago. Janus appears in the bathroom door, pushing a bound woman ahead of him. She’s got a mask on and a plastic bag taped over her head and painfully familiar white-blonde hair.

Big baby-blue eyes.

My heart ceases beating entirely.

Am I dreaming?

There’s no way ghosts arereal.They’re… she’s a figment of my imagination. A memory I’ve kept alive the last few months, a constant reminder of my failure and subsequent guilt.

A million images flash before my eyes—getting the call that she was dead, overdosed at a party. The funeral I refused to attend so I wouldn’t see them lower her body into the ground.

The people I killed in a sick attempt at vengeance for a life snuffed out far too soon.

The rage.

The time lost.

The horrible, haunting melody.

I try to swallow, but my mouth is parched. I don’t fully understand what I’m looking at or what’s happening, and my mind starts to spin and spin until I think I’m going to vomit.

Nathaniel laughs harder, and a couple of tears leak out. “God, you should see your fucking face right now, little brother. How’s it feel to realize everything you’ve done over the last few weeks in this bitch’s name was fornothing?”

I stare at the woman as Janus rips the bag off her head, and she lets out a little sob. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she’s thinner than I last saw, but there’s no denying that it’s her.

My mind goes blank as I stare, my brain no longer sending signals to the rest of my body. I can’t move, can’t think, can barely breathe as I grapple with the revelation.

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