“Where’s Monique?” My voice cracked, snagged by a burning, parched throat. A vile taste flooded my mouth. I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to remove it.
She laughed, a soft, haunting sound. As my mind began to clear and I felt her vibrations. Fast vibrations pressing against me like a weighted plate. She was a vampire. Dread found a place in my spine.
“Never mind her, she’s not coming. She won’t wake until it’s too late.”
My head beat like dark wings. Her voice was so familiar, but I was unable to place it.
A rough hand reefed at my arm, she yanked me to my feet. My blood turned to slush. My head burned with betrayal. My heart seized. There were so many more people than me who would be hurt today.
I
Chapter 85
Revenge
“Sarah,” I said, my voice breaking. “Why?”
She didn’t answer, she curled her fingers around my arm so tight it bordered on painful and yanked me into the light.
My legs were so weak it was as if the muscles had been half pulled out, and I staggered, struggling to keep my feet under me. I blinked several times, trying to get my pupils to adjust to the bright light. We were in a cream-colored hallway, it moved and swung on an angle before my drug impacted eyes and teetering legs. To the left sat a wooden, antique side table with a picture on it. A family of four, photographed in clothes not seen anymore, looking at the camera with serious expressions. An image containing all the people Bob loved. We were in his home.
I twisted my head to Sarah. Her blue eyes which I’d admired as something beautiful were as cold and as cruel as blades. My stomach dropped and then rose again in a sickening lurch. She twisted right and we entered into another room, reefing me forward, she let go of my arm. I spiralled uncontrollably, landing on the wooden floor. An arrow shot through my knees and vibrated up my leg. At the same time I fell, I heard someone cry out my name. I inhaled a shaky breath, and lifted my head.
No.This can’t be happening. It can’t be real. It must be another nightmare.
My eyes locked with Georgie’s.
This can’t be happening.
She stood on tippy toes on a chair, her neck wrapped by a thin, white rope which was tied to wooden rafters on the ceiling. Her eyes were wide with terror and desperation. Running mascara had given her panda eyes. Sweat clung her hair to her head and trickled in slow running rivulets down her face. Her lips quivered. The pale pink t-shirt she wore was darkened by large wet patches under her arms. If she tried to stand flat-footed, or the chair moved, she would hang.
My breath jammed in my chest. Fear puddled in the bottom of my stomach. My throat worked as I looked around.
We were in a library of epic proportions for a normal home. The walls were covered by books seated in wooden box shelves. There were hundreds of them, the soft scent of old books permeated the air. Normally, the smell and sight would displace me into to comforting world of nostalgia. Instead, they sat like stoic, silent witnesses at an execution.
A large, old, well-maintained wooden desk sat in the middle of the room in front of a floor to ceiling window. Darkness lurked beyond the translucent pane. The desk held a lamp, computer, laptop, scanner, all the things any modern office would need, a landline phone, notepad, and pen. Near to that were a couple of old, comfortable looking antique chairs, with a foot stool and coffee table beside them. It was easy to imagine Bob lying back, facing the window, reading, a steaming cup of tea on the table beside him.
Georgie was terrified, her shaking hands moved from clutching at the rope around her neck to out from her sides to try and hold her balance.
Shaky and weak, I climbed to my feet.
I searched my frantic mind for options. I had no weapons to disable her. Like a fool I’d left the knife at home. Not like she wouldn’t have disarmed me while I was knocked out anyway. My body was dosed by drugs, in my weakened state I didn’t know if I could throw her, let alone hold her. If she was right about Monique, she wasn’t coming to help, and even if she did wake, she’d never think to look here in Bob’s house.
I sucked in a whistling breath. I needed to recover my composure and talk us out of it, buy us time.
Delay the inevitable.
“Sarah, where are your mom and dad?” My voice came out much calmer than it ought to have been.
“They won’t save you, Amy. They’re away. I gave them an extended weekend at Cottleslow Beach. The one you were meant to go on with us girls.” She glided over, cupped her hand on my chin, her fingers dug into my skin. My breath caught in my throat, I refrained from reeling back. If she wanted to, with one squeeze she could break my jaw. Her face was less than a foot from mine. I could smell her breath, it was sickly sweet, like champagne. And I could feel her rage, it coursed from her body and seeped into mine. But it was the evil in her eyes that swallowed me like a grave omen.
I knew. She planned a painful, slow death for us. The hairs on the nape of my neck froze.
“I had it all organized to take you away, to get you away from them, but then you ruined it.” She squeezed my chin, a gasp of pain shot from my lips. She let me go and began pacing back and forth. Georgie’s stricken sobs resonated in the background.
“Sarah, please stop,” Georgie begged.
“Sarah, please stop,” Sarah mimicked with a bitter laugh. The wide smile I’d admired took on all the vulgar proportions of a killer clown.
