She called Nikki when the wi-fi was working and time permitted. Every time she spoke to her aunt, though, she found herself wanting to go home. Nikki wanted her to come home, too. Her reaction to the note Nadine had found in the curtains was one of near-panic, and she knew if she told her aunt what had happened in the mines, Nikki would be out here on a taxi within minutes.
And something told her she really, really didn’t want that to happen. In fact, she had the unsettling impression that the town itself wouldn’t like it.
That its victims were chosen, and not offered.
Don’t be ridiculous, Nadine. The town is alive now?
She started going for long walks to calm herself, driven by a restlessness she didn’t fully understand. As if playing chicken, she ventured as close to the surrounding forest as she dared.There’s nothing in there for you. Well—maybe not. But she was going to look around anyway.
Argentum was beautiful, overgrown in a way that made it feel like a secret rather than a mess. But something else had crept in along with the bracket and the vines.A dark secret, thought Nadine, tilting her head up to study the tall tops of the trees, still wreathed in their morning veil of mist.The kind that people might kill to keep.
If she walked at a clip, it took about two and a half hours to cover the entire border of the town. Remembering Gideon’s threat, she made a point of avoiding the trail that led into Old Town entirely, cutting through the square instead to walk through the same residential area where she had rented her AirBnB. This part of town was cozier—almost cottagecore. Nobody walking down this shady, wildflower-dappled street would ever find themselves thinking of dead-eyed animals and festivals where people disappeared.
She found herself staring at a canyon snow iris, blinding white in the sun. Imagining those snowy white petals spattered with blood.Like a bride murdered in her wedding dress.
Nadine exhaled sharply, bending to grip her knees.
(when he comes to me, he is like an animal)
When she had come out of the mine, it looked like her fingertips had been dipped in red paint. Even when she bathed that night, she couldn’t quite get all of it out of the creases.
Hehad been like an animal, glorying in her pain as he forced her into submission.
Had Ben done that to Noelle?
Was it Ben in the mine?
She stared out at the quiet street, which looked menacing now, the tall grasses stirring from the wind as if some stealthy creature was crawling through them.
A raven sitting on a split fence post tilted its head and cawed at her.
Nadine decided to end the walk early.
The thought of returning back to her room was depressing. As beautiful as the unicorn room was, she was confining herself there so often that it started to have the feel of a prison or a locked tower.
Maybe I’ll get a book, she told herself, veering towards the civic center instead, with a wary glance at the statue in the square. It was possible one of Helena Peters’s cast-off Harlequins had the potential to cleanse the darkness flecking her thoughts like rot, if only for a while. At the very least, it was a nice reminder that at leastsomepeople out there got happy endings.
She was staring at the rickety shelf when Deena peered around the corner and said, “Oh, it’s you, Nadine. Which one is that you’ve got there?The Sicilian’s Virgin Secretary?”
“Oh, uh, hi!” She hid the book behind her back when Deena smirked.
“It’s all right. Like I said, I don’t judge.”
“Ha ha, right.” Nadine winced internally. “I remember.”
“I heard you got hurt out at the mine. I hope the sheriff didn’t chew you out too bad.” She folded her arms and leaned against the door jamb to her office while Nadine tried to keep her face composed. “Kids go out there all the time to smoke dope and graffiti the place, so I don’t know why he’s making out like it’s sacred ground.”
I do, thought Nadine.
“You don’t look so hot.” Her brown eyes flicked over her in concern, going briefly to her neck, and Nadine hoped that she had put enough concealer on the bruise to hide it in these unforgiving lights. “How are you holding up? That must have been terrifying.”
“The EMT was nice.” She had the urge to say more—that ithadbeen fucking terrifying, that it had made her feel like her body had betrayed her. That she still had dreams of that whispery voice calling itself her master that had her waking up with a catch in her breathing.
“Ramon? Yeah, he’s a doll.” Deena tilted her head with a frown. “Any luck with your sister?”
“No.” Her fingers dug into the cover of the book she was holding. “Ben thinks she’s dead.”
We should start planning a funeral, was what he’d actually said.She’s not coming back.
