“Is there anything more safe or tragic to a girl than a grieving widower? I would have let you comfort me, Nadine. You would have felt like you were slowly wearing down my defenses until the very moment I had you on your back.”
He lunged for her threateningly and she scampered away, disgusted, while he watched, a twisted expression of satisfaction on his darkly handsome face.
“Perhaps I still will,” he mused. “Daddy can’t protect you forever. Goodbye, Nadine. I expect I’ll be seeing you at the festival. Very . . .verysoon.”
???????
Cal was not in his room when Nadine went to check and although he kept the door unlocked, the drawer he’d put her phone in wasn’t. So were all the drawers she tried, and his laptop had a passcode. Nadine sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, gripping the mattress.
He’d mentioned that he sometimes went to go see clients in person. She supposed that was where he’d gone. But the festival was tomorrow and after Ben’s sinister remarks, she was worried. His family didn’t seem to consider worthy of being whatever a sparrow entailed, and all she could think about were those endless trees, the Cullravens with their guns—and the furnace in the cellar.
(Daddy can’t protect you forever)
She looked at the vase of black hellebore on the nightstand. It seemed symbolic that the first thing Cal had ever spoken to her about was flowers. At Noelle’s wedding, he had told her about “the miracle of the roses,” and how they flowered at the feet of martyred saints. Now he was presenting her with flowers that were often associated with death: the symbol of his great-grandfather’s depraved and consuming passions.
(How will you know if you’ll be next?)
She stared at the flowers, a sudden chill dripping down her spine.
(I promised you wildflowers)
Was this a romantic gesture? Surely, he wouldn’t state his intentions like that—although, now that she thought about it, that would be just like him. Even a declaration from Cal could sound like a puzzle. Sometimes talking to him felt like she was skating over a lake of thin ice. She could hear the cracks forming but was never sure where they were coming from, or how many fathoms deep she might be dragged before she could ever really get to know him at all.
Nadine threw open the drapes in agitation and dust poured out, making her cough. Thomas had only provided her with tea and she had drunk it all, and the only other liquid in the room was the bottle of Riesling she’d gotten from the cellar.
Still coughing, and trying to muffle it, Nadine covered her hand with her mouth as she grabbed one of the beveled crystal glasses from the cupboard, filling it right up from the tap. Fresh mountain spring water, she thought, downing half the glass.And all it costs is your soul.
That was when she heard the sound of voices coming from the parlor.
The Cullravens had apparently wrapped up dinner and were having a private social hour over drinks, the way they often did. Cal didn’t usually make her stay for that, which she was grateful for. Considering how boisterous and mean they were on just regular wine, Nadine could only imagine how fortified wine could fortify their cruelty.
And it’s not like they even seem to enjoy each other’s company.
Nadine hovered in the hallway, torn between returning to her room and creeping closer to listen. But then she heard the word “festival” and that decided her curiosity. She left her glass in the sink and headed down the now-familiar hall that branched into the left side of the house.
“—told you she knows,” Ben was saying. “Now I’ve confirmed it.”
“Have you?” She could only see Nathaniel from her current spot, and a curve of Odessa. Nathaniel had opted for scotch and had untied his tie in concession to the stuffy room.
“I said I was a widower. She didn’t even blink.”
Fuck, thought Nadine.
“He took her into the cellar. Iknowhe told her everything, just like I told you he would. He’s been fucking her just like the last one, and now she’s gotten into his head.”
Nathaniel sighed. “How unfortunate.”
“We need to kill her.”
“Ask him how he knows,” said Odessa.
“Shut up, Ode.”
“You’ve beenwatchingthem.”
“He fucked her in the library!” Ben snarled. “Where hasn’t he had her—that’s the question.”
“Funny how she stops being a sparrow when you don’t want her anymore,” Odessa said. “The problem with you two is that you’ve spent so long wanting what the other has, that you don’t know what to do with yourselves anymore when the other one is happy. You thrive on hate.”
