18

The thing about tying an actual person to an actual toilet is—well, the thing is, it is really bloody hard to do. It’s like guns; you see them all the time in movies, so you kind of just take them for granted and never really stop to think about how terrifying they are in real life. Whenever I see a kidnapping scene in a movie, I rarely spare a thought for the logistics of it. Like what kind of knots you have to use, what bits to tie to where, and so on and so forth.

So I probably shouldn’t be shocked at the sight of Second Uncle no longer tied to the toilet but instead standing next to the bedside table in the bedroom. His hands are still tied, but he’s managed to get the hotel phone off the hook and has apparently called someone.

When he sees us, he screams, “Mafia! Die! I die, ko—”

His shouts end abruptly when a Komodo dragon smacks him in the head. Big Aunt quickly follows Fourth Aunt’s lead,tearing off her own dragon to throw, and Second Uncle freezes with his hands up. “No, not dragon—”

Then Fourth Aunt follows up with a blood-curdling war cry and pounces on him.

“Oh my god!” I’m frozen there, half-crouched, my arms out as if I’m about to do something, but what? What the hell do I do?

Big Aunt rushes past me—Big Aunt, my sixty-something-year-old aunt, is rushing past me. Good god, do something! Still, my body refuses to comprehend the commands my brain is throwing its way and I stand there uselessly as Big Aunt zooms straight into the fray. She pauses long enough to pick up the electric kettle, and that’s when I spring into action. If she swings that thing at their heads, she might actually kill someone.

“No!” I leap forward. I trip on my huge dress and fall into the struggling mass. The world is shaved down into teeth and claws.

Second Uncle isn’t a huge man, but he’s still an adult male with everything to lose, and he’s not going down without a fight. He flings his body in wild arcs, and though his hands are tied, he’s still able to swing his arms up and down, if not sideways. Fourth Aunt has her arms around his waist and is practically biting him. I reach out and grab something—anything. My hands go around one of Second Uncle’s arms, and I have to keep from flinching at the contact. He’s radiating panicked heat. It feels so wrong, but I grip him tight. Then, as though in slow motion, I see Big Aunt swinging the electric kettle down on his head. A burst of adrenaline rushes through me and I yank Second Uncle to the side. His foot slips, and he falls over with a wail. A wail cut short as his head smacks against the wall with a loudcrack.

Then, silence.

Oh no. No, no, no.

It takes a while to realize that I’m just standing there going, “No, no, no” repeatedly. Big Aunt takes my arm and shakes me gently. My gaze snaps to hers. “Did I—is he—have I just killed another man?” Unreal. The words are absurd. They can’t possibly be real.

Fourth Aunt picks herself up off the floor, breathing hard, and grabs her Komodo dragon. That’s what she’s worried about? The thought makes me want to laugh hysterically. She uses it to prod Second Uncle’s head. It lolls lifelessly. Lifelessly, because I have taken away his life. Oh my god.

“Stop that, Meddy,” Fourth Aunt snaps. That’s when I realize I’ve been doing a sort of low moan the entire time.

“Sorry, I just—I’m a bit shocked because—oh god, is he—?”

She shushes me as she wraps a hand around his wrist, then shrugs. “Can’t feel a pulse. Well, Meddy, looks like we’ve got a situation on our hands.”

“No!” Not again. The world crashes around me. I think I might pass out. I’m going to—wait. Last time, we couldn’t feel a pulse either. Maybe we just suck at finding pulses. I rush to the dressing table, find a small compact mirror, and hurry back to Second Uncle. Please, god, let this work. I open it and hold the mirror to his nose.

And it fogs up.

“He’s breathing!” I whoop before sagging back, half in tears. I have never felt such relief, ever.

“Wah, Meddy, you very smart,” Big Aunt says from the bathroom. The tap is running. When did she even get to the bathroom?

“What are you doing, Big Aunt?”

“You seem very panic, so I making some tea, ya?”

“I—what? With the kettle you were about to brain him with?”

She turns off the tap and comes back out carrying the fullkettle and her Komodo dragon. “Yes, very useful, electric kettle. So he okay? Good, good. I thought maybe you kill him.”

I stare wordlessly as she places the kettle gently on its stand and turns it on. Then she goes to the dressing table and stares sullenly at her fascinatorless head. “How put it back on? Need so many pin here pin that.” With a sigh, she puts the Komodo dragon down on the dressing table. Then she picks it up again and shoves it into one of the drawers. “When I see it, it just make me sad,” she mutters. “Because now my outfit ruin, all because Second Uncle.”

Fourth Aunt clears her throat. “Well, the good news is, he’s just knocked out, he’ll be fine.”

“We don’t know that. He might have a concussion,” I say.

“Aduh, he okay, no problem, we give him tea and will be fine,” Big Aunt says.

I’m about to argue when a horrible thought hits me. “The call. He was calling someone when we came in.”