Page 105 of The Gloaming

“What did he ask?”

“Oh, you know. Boring stuff. He was quite irate about Margaret,” she whispered, conspiratorially.

“You killed her.” I glared down at the dusty concrete, my shoulder throbbing in time with my pulse. The disgust in my gut was almost enough to override the pain.

“For the plan, yes! She looked a little like you – well before we emptied her out.” Her whisper turned gleeful. “You humans, you all look the same anyway. Especially when you’re dead.” She paused for effect. “I suppose that’s how you’ll look, too. If I let you get that far.”

Her laugh filled the room, jarring and discordant. Every gesture felt rehearsed, like she was playing a role she hadn’t quite mastered.

“What happened to your hand?” I asked, my tone carefully neutral. “New injury, right?”

Her face twisted, a low sound catching in her throat. “That’s irrelevant.”

I forced a laugh, knowing it would get under her skin. “Come on, who did it? I’ll send flowers.”

She was in my face before I could blink, her breath like ice against my skin. The zip ties bit deeper as I instinctively tried to pull away, my shoulder screaming in protest.

“He’ll pay for it. You’ll see to that, or Murray will.” Her lips curled back from her teeth in a parody of a smile.

“Who? Who’ll pay?” I asked, glancing toward the cupboard in the corner.

“Weren’t you listening?” The words spilled out with malicious delight. “I’ve got your friends – Tommy and your precious Murray. They came running to save you like good little boys. As if they stood a chance.”

She dropped to a whisper. “When you think about it, we’re being generous. You get to choose between your friend… and your lover.”

My pulse sped up despite myself, fire flooding my veins. I tried to slow my breathing – I couldn’t afford for her to hear it. Though I had no way to know if she was lying, it made sense that my friends would try to find me… but Nicholas was almost four hundred years old – how the hell could they have overpowered him?

“I don’t believe you,” I lied, forcing the words out and trying again to pull my body into a more comfortable position, where I could regain the feeling in my legs. “It’s not possible. Nicholas is too strong.”

She prowled closer, circling the edges of the room, all hint of playfulness gone.

“Why would I lie? Clever little hunter girl, you must be able to sense that much?” Her voice dropped low as she assessed me, disdain twisting her features. She still clutched her arm near the stump. “Not that you’re up to much else right now.”

She was right. I couldn’t get out of my bonds, let alone fight her – but I also had no way of knowing which of them was in here with me. I could barely sense Nicholas in that way, especially not now, when my head was pounding.

“How do I know who’s in there?” I jerked my head towards the cabinet.

“Tommy and I are spending some quality time together.” Her words had a singsong lilt that made my skin crawl. “But I thought you might like to say your goodbyes to Lover Boy… since you finally let him have you.”

She swayed toward the cupboard, her movements precise. The door creaked open, and sparse light from the other room fell across his face. The figure was hunched awkwardly in the small space, features obscured by shadow. My eye throbbed, making it harder to focus in the dim light. I kept my face carefully blank.

“What do you want from us?” I asked. “Why are you doing this?”

“Murray is supposed to die, that’s what we were told. And I want Isabel, so I can have the set, you know?” She counted the names out on her remaining fingers, eyes bright with an unsettling excitement. “I wouldn’t mind Tommy as well, but that one’s out of my hands.” She scowled and corrected herself. “Hand.”

“Supposed to die?” I frowned. “I don’t understand. Why? Who wants him dead?”

“It doesn’t matter if you understand.” She waved her stump dismissively. “This is bigger than you, little girl. And you have important decisions to agonise over, remember? Kill Nicholas, or I kill Tommy.” Her teeth flashed white in the dim light. “Who is it you can’t live without, Erin?”

“No,” I murmured. “No.” I wouldn’t choose.

“Ifyouwon’t, maybe I’ll let Tommy kill Murray instead – to save you, of course. He hates him, doesn’t he?” Her eyes narrowed. She was right – she wouldn’t have to give Tom much of a push.

“You won’t do that,” I argued. “You don’t have Tom.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Her voice was sharp with mockery.

“Erin…” A hoarse whisper from across the room. I jerked my head toward it like a lifeline.

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