“Not like that.” His voice shook.
“Please don’t—” I squirmed. Hot tears stained my face and pooled in my ears, but I kept a stern expression as long as possible.
He moved close, our noses almost touching. It was like he was looking at an enigma, not recognizing me in this state.
“Again,” he said, his voice low.
“I hate you.” My voice cracked, and my throat was starting to ache from anxiety and the pressure of his fingers.
“Again,” he demanded, burying his face in the crook of my neck, pressing his hips tighter between my legs and letting his long, needlelike teeth brush against my skin.
“Silas,” I choked out, “I’m not ready—please.”
This is the end, isn’t it?
His head tapped against the stone next to my head in annoyance.
“I can’t do this,” he breathed, letting my leg slide off his shoulder.
He leaned back, studying my pitiful state. When he released my neck, the blood rushed back to my head, and I groaned, relieved to finally breathe in the damp air. I closed my eyes and coughed. The rush of fresh air irritated my throat as I greedily tried to suck in anything I could. I waited for whatever came next, but alas, the other shoe never fell. The presence against me vanished, and the air became lighterin its absence.
When my eyes opened, I only saw an empty tomb. The metal double doors slapped lazily together as the gloomy tantrum of weather continued, unaware of the commotion under it, not oneblond devil in sight.
18
THE POISONER
“Ioverslept. No, Phoebe, please calm down. I just drank too much. I wasn’t feeling well. I promise everything’s fine!” I pleaded with her, clutching the telephone tight as I leaned against the wall.
“Don’t lie to me! I called and called until I realized you weren’t even home!” she cried. “I was going to file a police report when I didn’t hear from you!”
“Phoebe, it’s all right. I’m telling you I am fine. I was visiting someone, it took entirely too long. Then yesterday I went to see my father. I just lost track of time.”
She took a shaky breath, but took no relief when I mentioned I had company. The tension hung between us even through the phone.
“You can come over if you’d like? I could use some advice on something,” I offered.
“Advice? On what?” Her interest was piqued.
“I... um.” I paused for a minute. “I ran out of clothes to wear.”
“I will be there in thirty.” She wasted no time, hanging up the phone with a click. It did not take much to convince Phoebe to visit,especiallyif clothing was involved.
I leaned my head against the wall next to the phone, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. Today would be long. I could feel it.
Most of the morning was spent scrubbing my skin, not just because of how disgusting I felt but because the poisoned scotch from that night had formed a pink rash that appeared the next day. I slipped on the lightest, least itchy dress I could find, one of Phoebe’s silk tea dresses that she’d left behind at some point. The soft texture soothed my irritated skin. It was like a friction burn over the front of my body.
My plan did not just fail, it blew back in my face faster than poorly packed gunpowder. He didn’t have to do much, as the humiliation was all due to my lack of foresight. He found me too quickly. He must have watched me climb inside his house, possibly watching me poison his decanter as well.
How amateur.
He was livid when he told me to leave. It made me smile, knowing I was at least a nuisance to him. He might have caught me, but I won. I was stillalive.
My smile faltered as I realized he would probably be coming for me soon. He certainly seemed determined in the cemetery. Why he did not end me there was my only question. It was possible that he would not be so playful when he returned. It was a good thing Phoebe was coming over. I should suggest that she stay the night.
The ringing of the doorbell made me flinch.
That was quick. I swore she just hung up!
