Page 59 of Feathers From the Sky

“Margot, when this is done, I want you to make arrangements for you and Gwyn somewhere else. Preferably outside the United States.” My friend kicks my seat when my compulsion won’t let her talk. I sigh. “You may speak.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re going to help me fake her death, and then you’re going to take her as far away from the coven as you can. You may return once my father Slumbers or Gwyn dies of old age. Whichever comes first.” I prop my elbow up on the center console, resting my chin on my hand as I stare at the sea of brake lights before me.

“You want me to play house with her?” she asks, and I can’t help it when I look in the rearview mirror because of her misty tone. As if this is a dream come true.

“No,” I snap. Closing my eyes, it’s an assault when I picture Gwyn plating up dinner for Margot, leaning over her at a kitchen table and pressing a kiss to my friend’s forehead. “I want you to set up a place for you both to live. Separately,” I add, ignoring the smirk on Nico’s lips. “You are to monitor her, but I don’t want you to interfere in whatever life she builds.”

“You, uh,” she starts, then clears her throat. “You don’t need me here?”

She’s looking down at her laptop when I glance up at the mirror. Her golden hair is up in a tidy bun, and the only thing out of place about her is her tone. I’ve hurt her feelings.

“Margot, I expect you to work for me remotely. I’ll pay for everything the two of you need either way, but if you decide you don’t want to work for me anymore, I understand.”

She nods, swallowing, and I don’t think I’ve undone the damage. Margot is important to me, but I don’t know what she wants me to say. Nico just glares at me from the driver’s seat, and it’s not like we are moving on the highway at all, so I get no reprieve.

I’m about to word vomit an apology when she inhales quickly. “Look,” she says, spinning her computer in her lap. It’s standstill traffic, so Nico turns with me and nearly slams his head into mine.

If it weren’t for the image on the screen, I would have bitched at him.

But I can’t quite tell what I’m seeing. There’s an open door, and I see a glimpse of what looks like an examination room beyond it.

“What are we looking at, Margot?”

“It’s in their basement. They only have two cameras, and one of them points here. Look at the examination table,” she directs, reaching over the top of the screen and pointing down.

The angle doesn’t allow me to see much, but when I realize what she’s drawing my attention to, my blood boils. There are handcuffs attached to the stirrups.

“Were they planning to—to inseminate her or something?” Margot squeaks.

I say nothing, turning forward and drumming my fingertips on the center console. Unwilling to examine it, I make a decision. Even if I find no more evidence tying this group of people to Remy’s murder, they’ll bleed out slowly.

Every last one of them.

* * *

After sittingin silence for another hour, the traffic hardly moving out of the city, I pull out my phone to scroll when I notice a shit ton of notifications for the camera in Gwyn’s room.

“What the hell is she up to?” I murmur as I load the app. Asking for Margot’s hot spot Wi-Fi password, I key in the letters and numbers.

“You haven’t been watching her this entire time?” Margot muses, and I don’t catch myself before I rise to her bait.

“She was sleeping when we left. I figured she’d—”

“That hasn’t stopped you before!” Margot shouts, and Nico laughs. “Are you going to make me install cameras in our place in New Zealand or wherever?”

I’m about to remind her that Gwyn is to have her own place when the app finally loads. The most recent notification is from the bathroom camera, so I click on it, angling the screen away in case she’s showering. Gwyn is wearing one of Margot’s old college sweatshirts, her hair a rumpled mess like she just woke up, and she’s digging through the cabinet beneath the sink. She’s concentrating, tossing shit out of her way when she doesn’t find what she wants. I don’t know what she hopes to find, and I decide I haven’t heard her voice enough over the past week. Instead of shoving that feeling aside, I embrace it and click on the microphone icon.

“What’re you looking for, sweetheart?”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide and frantic as she looks at the camera, and she puts her finger to her lips to shush me. The fuck? When she points at the shut door, I don’t understand.

But when she mouths the word help, I can’t miss it. I try to switch over to the main room camera. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, and I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest.

“What’s going on?” Nico asks.

“I don’t know. She—she just said help and pointed at the door. The other camera won’t load.”

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