“Same, kid.” Her tongue flicked across my cheek.
“Love you too, Emmy and Carl,” I whispered into the dark as sleep gently pulled me under.
I dreamed of bloody eyes watching; a strange, obsessive mania; two voices whispering; skeletons.
The next morning was sunny and beautiful, so I pushed the nightmares aside.
I’m in control of my mind.
Am I?
No one was in the kitchen, so I shoved slices of meat and fruit into my mouth until my jaw hurt.
Then I found a notebook and pen in one of my bedside drawers and sat by the sea (still eating), working on the Riemann Hypothesis.It wasn’t perfect, because I didn’t have access to all my past calculations, but graphing numbers came easily.
It was peaceful.
For the first time in weeks, I felt alive.
The rest of the day was spent swimming in my toga (at this point, I was convinced the material had to be imbued with some type of magic). Lazily I did breaststroke through glittering turquoise waters. It was sometime in early September, so the sea and sun were still pleasantly warm.
Life was different on the island.
The green foliage on the hill practically sparkled in the light.
Twigs snapped loudly. I squinted at the forest behind the house, and two men had long cameras pointing directly at me.
They wereclose.
I screamed and gathered Nyx around my neck, then ran back inside the house.
Spartan chasers.
“What is it now?” Patro asked as he slammed my bedroom door open with Achilles in tow.
They stared down at me with narrowed eyes.
Dripping wet from sprinting out of the ocean, I said, “Two men are close to the house on the hill, taking pictures of m-me swimming.”
“Unacceptable. We need to do something,” Achilles signed to Patro angrily, scarlet eyes flashing. “We need to string them up by their intestines.”
I flinched.
Achilles narrowed his eyes at me with suspicion, and I examined a very interesting fleck of dust on the ground.
Nope. I can’t understand sign language at all, and you are definitely not a psychotic killer. Nothing to see here.
Patro shouted, “Fuck, how do they keep finding us? If this location is compromised, we’ll have to move again. This is getting out of?—”
“Did you just say they took pictures of you, Alexis?” Kharonasked as he stepped into the room from the hallway. His eyes were covered by thin sunglasses engraved with gold.
Apparently, the devil had spent the night, and also, he looked concerningly good in eyewear.
Humanity is doomed.
Kharon cracked his neck, tattoo rippling as he pinned me with his gaze. “Did they—take—pictures—of—you?” he asked slowly, his expression feral.
Suddenly I was worried about the health of the two cameramen.
