Page 54 of Pulling Strings

My stomach twinged again, but not from hunger this time. WhatwereGrimm’s plans for Donovan? Throwing him into the gang was like dumping chum into water. Bound to draw sharks.

I hoped my growing concern didn’t show on my face as I asked, “What happened to her? Maggie?”“She died.” He looked aside, studying the floor. “And I believe that was the kindest fate she could have hoped for.”

Heaviness settled on me. Like the magic dampeners in the prison had cranked up a few notches, or maybe it was the weight of guilt by association. Did Ripley wonder where I got the necklace? Or how Vinton pilfered it off a dead girl’s corpse?

“What about your brother?” Ripley asked, stirring me from contemplation. “Donovan, was it? How is he?”

I paused. “He… he’s dead, too.”

Something in the doctor’s frown made it clear he knew I was lying. He didn’t call me on it, though. Instead, he grunted and replied, “Better for both of you that way. I’d hate to think you’ve been stuck in the sametrap I was, martyring yourself for the sake of someone else’s wellbeing.”

I wasn’t a martyr, though. It wasn’t as dramatic as that. I was just a concerned older sibling who saw the writing on the wall.

“Listen, Ripley,” I said quickly. “I think I know something about your girl. Unless there was more than one of those necklaces.”

He huffed a breath. “It’s a fake, I assure you. Manipulation is a game I’m no longer interested in playing. And, if you’re going to ask me again to rejoin the Bloody Hex, don’t bother. My answer hasn’t changed.”

A wail from the infirmary commanded his attention and he brushed past me, reaching for the doorknob.

“Vinton has a zombie,” I blurted.

His fingers retracted, curling into a fist. “For how long?”

I shook my head. “Couple days, maybe? I haven’t seen her. Just… heard.”

There was something too familiar about all of this. Something recognizable in another man’s admission of defeat at Grimm’s hands. It looked like my future—maybe even my present—while I played an integral part in the manipulation game I’d been a victim of more times than I could count.

Ripley looked down at me. Rage and sorrow were at war in his mismatched eyes. “If you’re lying—”

“I’m not.”

“Then I have no choice.”

Relief brought levity I desperately needed. Then I felt guilty for that, too.

“Tell me where I need to be and when,” Ripley said.

“I will. As soon as I know.”

He gave a curt nod, exiting to the infirmary andleaving me sitting in his cell, thinking.

Maggie the zombie was bait in a trap. Ripley must have known that as well as I did. His return under duress was the furthest thing from what I’d originally thought. I wasn’t being replaced at all. But he wasn’t being welcomed back, either. If anything, I may have been leading him to slaughter.

The knowledge put a damper on what should have been a celebratory moment. But I could revel in my success later when I told Donovan the good news.

It wasn’t until the guards returned to escort me to Seg that I had an entirely new revelation. Did prisoners in isolation get visitors?

19

Solitary

Twelve years earlier

The duct tape fell off my mouth the second time I puked. I’d called for help until the men outside pounded on the door and told me to shut up. It was night and they were trying to sleep. How would I know? It was near black in this cramped, hot closet. The water heater hissed and its blue flame flickered, thickening the air and soaking me with sweat.

I huddled in the corner, my pajamas crusty with blood and piss. I hadn’t dared to ask to go to the bathroom, just curled up and cried until my eyes burned.

Behind my back, my wrists were bound with the same tape that pinned my legs and ankles together. I couldn’t have stood if I tried or even wanted to. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

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