His eyes die out without warning, shoulders hunching, tears streaming down his face again. He looks around, blinking fast. “Can you feel it, Rosybelle? Can you feel it happening again?”
My instincts are at war: Kill him or keep him talking?
I decide he might still prove useful.
“Leon,” I say. “How long has your wife been missing?”
“I don’t know!” he says, and grabs my arms. “Where did they take her?”
I command myself not to react to this physical contact, forcing myself to look into his wild eyes. He’s clearly incapable of coherence.
“Leon,” I say again. “Please give me that note.”
“No!” he cries, backing away from me. “It’s mine. You said you’ve been looking for somewhere to rest your head, for a home that will last forever. You said you would die for me. You described the depths you would go to for me. You said that if I want something, I just have to ask for it.”
“I’m asking for it right now,” I say, fighting my anger. “Give it to me—”
“You can’t take it!” he says. “You can’t take anything else away from me!”
“I didn’t take anything from you. I wasn’t the one who went through your things.” I glance up and down the quiet hall, my instincts now screaming. “Leon,” I say, trying to meet his eyes. “Listen to me. I wasn’t the one who ransacked your room, and I didn’t write that note. I think someone is trying to frame me—”
“Don’t worry, Rosy,” he says softly, turning the crumpled paper around to show me. “I know you didn’t do it.”
The page is blank.
Leon laughs, then goes limp, his arms hanging heavily by his sides. “Why would you go through my things? You don’t even know where I hid it.” He leans toward me, and I watch, horrified, as a slinky black skin appears and disappears across his eyes. Then, whispering: “I didn’t want to find it, Rosabelle. He made me find it.”
Now, a spike of true fear impales me.
I’m trying to stay calm. Trying to keep my breathing even. But a terrifying thought is gathering steam in my head, disparate strokes of color coming together to form a disturbing picture.
“Who made you find it?” I ask.
“Nosy Rosy!” Leon shouts, his head lolling sideways. “My beautiful rose, I’ll give you a little earth, Rosabelle, let me look inside you, Rosabelle, Rosabelle, Rosabelle—”
Finally I snap.
I grab a fistful of his shirt violently, pressing the butterknife to his throat.“Start answering my questions,” I say. “Or this time when I kill you, I’ll make sure no one will be here to save you.”
His eyes widen. He looks suddenly panicked. “But I brought you a drink of earth,” he says. “I’m a big boy, Rosy, I made it all by myself.” He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a glass vial, the glinting receptacle filled with darkness. “Klaus made me find it,” he says, and then he’s crying again, his shoulders collapsing. “Klaus wanted you to have it. He made me leave my room. He made me do it, Rosy, I didn’t want to—”
My right hand trembles and I let go of him, shaking the tremors loose from my fist before taking the proffered vial. My heart is racing dangerously fast. The glass is warm against my skin.
“Goodbye, my beautiful rose. Goodbye. Goodbye. They took your father the way they took my wife, remember? Can you feel it happening again, Rosy?”
Shock rattles through me. “What? What are you talking about?” I shake him slightly. “Leon? Leon, where’s Klaus?”
“Klaus?” He breathes the word, his voice changing, his back straightening. The black skin crawls over his eyes again. “Klaus is here.”
I stifle a shudder, containing my horror. “Where?”
Leon grabs me by the throat and lifts me off my feet.
Rosabelle
Chapter 35
I fight back a scream.
