I could leave, she thought, except she couldn’t—because when she hesitated at the stair, looking at the front door, Cal walked out of the hall like he’d been following her.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “And it won’t work. You can’t leave now, little sparrow, and you’ll be killed if you try. The sheriff’s keeping an eye out for you now and trust me, he’s all over. One misstep, and that pretty white throat will belong to my father.”
“What am I supposed to do?” she hissed at him, terrified.
“Choose me,” was his response.
Be a sparrow, he meant.Become complicit with murder.
It tortured her, the way it must have tortured Evangeline, and all the women after her. When Cal’s family asked her questions about her life, she began to wonder if they were looking for reasons to kill her.Oh, a psychology major? What a deer-like thing to major in. Sorry, Nadine. Sparrows major in economics. You have to die now.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Ben at all.
(my father was going to give you to Ben to play with)
That was why he looked at her like he hated her. It was the sullen expression of a man watching another enjoy what he considered his. Covetousness, drenched in bloodlust and sexual desire.
It chilled her.
No, she couldn’t look at Ben. It sickened her.Hesickened her.
At least he never sought her out. Possibly the same entitlement that made him think he owned her stemmed from the same arrogance that kept him from losing face by showing it. Odessa suffered from no similar compunctions—she was needy in her capriciousness, constantly wanting Nadine’s opinions on everything, from her photography to what outfits she should wear.
Nadine started to feel like a permanent fixture on the woman’s vanity stool at times, turning away every time Odessa shamelessly changed in front of her. She held back the questions she wanted to ask—Have you murdered people? Do you enjoy killing men after sex? Do you want your brothers to kill me?—and was instead forced to answer ones she had little interest in at all. Yes, that picture is better than the other one. No, that skirt isn’t too short.
Yes, I think we could be sisters.
Because you murdered my real one.
“Nadine,” Odessa whined. “You’re not looking. Should I wear brown tweed or oatmeal?”
Neither!Nadine wanted to scream.You shouldn’t wear anything anywhere. You should stay home and watch Netflix like a normal person instead of going out and killing people!
“Oatmeal,” she said dully, and Odessa threw a dress at her head.
“That’s for dinner tonight. I noticed Baby Cal could hardly take his eyes off you in my little corset dress. The one you were wearing when you got locked in the cellar with him.” She tossed a grin over one shoulder. “Is that why you’re so distracted, Nadine?”
“What?” Horror choked her. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, Nadine. I don’t even know why you bother to lie. I’d know the truth from that little red face of yours, even if you weren’t calling him Daddy in the library.”
“I—” Her voice went high and thin, “Yousawthat?”
“No. Ben did. And then he told me, because he was very angry, and I told him that maybe he shouldn’t watch if the sight of you offends him so much, and he stormed off.” She shrugged.
Nadine gripped the stool, feeling as if she were about to topple off of it.
Ben had watched Cal deflower her on that settee; he’d watched them by candlelight as Cal dragged her hands over her head and made her say and do things she could barely think about now. Suddenly, the reference to sparrow blood she’d overheard made an appalling amount of sense. He’d not only watched—he’dreturned. Nadine fought back a shudder.Oh god.
Did he see what came after?she wondered, digging her nails into the wood until it felt like they would crack.Did he see me realize Cal betrayed me?
Does he know how much I really know?
“He hasn’t been right since his wife went missing,” Odessa said, oblivious. “I think even his own right hand’s tired of him at this point.”
Yes, Nadine thought viciously.I’m sure murder really takes a lot out of you.
She looked out the trees of her window, studying the shadowy pines. From beyond the glass, they looked still and lifeless: like one of those Victorian displays the Cullravens enjoyed scattering about their home, preserving some tragic creature beneath a bell jar, surrounded by curated pieces taken from its once-natural element and then preserved unnaturally under glass.
