“My blood smelled like hers?”
“Hers was nothing compared to yours,” he answers with a dull laugh. I stare at the monster that turned me like him, not sure how to respond or even if I should. We walk several more blocks before I realize where we are. “Do you recognize this place?”
I look at the river in front of me and the forest surrounding me. “This is…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “This is where you brought me.”
He smiles. “Good, girl.”
“Why would you bring me here?” I stare into his eyes, preparing for the slap that will follow my question. Surprisingly, he doesn’t react.
“It’s always good to see where you came from.”
“I know where I came from,” I retort. “I have a family. I have a mother and father who either think I’m dead or ran away. Friends who know who you are. Know that you took me for a walk.”
Harrison’s laugh echoes off the trees. “I’ve already talked to the police.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth, of course. I told them we went back to my house, where you spent the night. The next morning, you left, and I haven’t heard from you since. I’m worried sick about where you could be. There are so many dangers out there in a city like New Orleans.”
Anger fills me. “They believed you?”
“Of course. I’m one of their biggest financial supporters. Why wouldn’t they?”
“You’re a bastard,” I spew, refusing to back away from the slap that follows, this time knocking me several feet backward.
“Watch your mouth, Violet. That is your last warning.” I refuse to look away. I’m already dead. What else can he do?
Without another word, Harrison turns us around, moving back toward the Garden District. Other than mental torture, I’m not sure what our little fieldtrip was about. We move through the forest, back to the street, without seeing any humans. I’m grateful.
“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he says as we enter the house, dismissing me with his words. I don’t respond as I work my way to the third floor slowly, concentrating on moving human tempo.
Sitting at the oak desk, I stare into the room that I have no doubt will serve as my prison. Is this the rest of my life? Being a dress-up doll for a psychopath?
I search through the wardrobe, hoping for something more comfortable than a three-hundred-year-old dress, and find nothing. I sense Harrison’s arrival before hearing the knock on the door. He opens the door before I’m able to respond. “I’ve brought food.”
I turn, expecting to see another donneuse. Instead, he’s holding a glass bottle of red liquid. “I couldn’t sacrifice another donneuse at the moment. I’m short for now.” He laughs at his words. “I brought you a bottle fresh from the donor.”
The smell slaps me in the face. I fight the urge to jerk it from his hands. “Thank you,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
“First, you must do something for me.”
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. “What?”
He throws a wad of fabric onto the bed. “Put this on.” I pick up the small item, realizing it’s a nightgown. Not one I would ever wear. There’s barely any fabric, and what’s there won’t provide any privacy. He turns,leaving me with the clothing. “Come downstairs when you’re dressed.”
“Why?” I ask. He exits without an answer.
I suddenly want nothing more than to keep the layers of ruffles and fabric on my body. My mind reels over the possible scenarios of what’s about to happen. I slip into the outfit, feeling more vulnerable than ever. Fighting the tears for the tenth time today, I exit the room, slowly walking to the first floor.
“Perfect timing,” Harrison says as I stand nearly naked in the foyer. He opens the front door, revealing a man who looks my age.
“Please, come in.” The man follows directions, moving past Harrison and into the sitting room.
“What a lovely specimen,” the man says, looking my body up and down. “She’ll do quite nicely.”
“Of course she does. I only choose the best,” Harrison answers. He motions for me to come closer. “May I present Violet Du Four? Violet, this is Cyrus Knight.” I don’t know what’s happening or how to react.
Cyrus turns his attention toward me. “I see you dyed her hair. Why must you always do that?” He glances at the portrait. “She’s not coming back, you know.”
