Maximus glances at us. “And if she’s moved on? People move on.”
“They don’t,” I find myself saying. “Not really.” I feel tears burning behind my eyes. “My mother died just a few days after you did, Max. And I haven’t moved on. None of us have. You try but…when you really love someone, it remains, like a chain. And it’s a chain you don’t want to remove, no matter how heavy, no matter how painful it gets.”
Maximus swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“She wouldn’t have been with me, and that’s a good thing.”
“Well, actually,” Dex muses slowly. “She did end up in Hell.”
He frowns. “How is that possible?”
“She didn’t belong there,” I tell him. “But then again, neither did you.”
“But she got out,” Dex says, his voice rising in strange excitement. His eyes go wide and shiny. “She got pulled out.”
“Back to…here?” Maximus asks.
Dex shakes his head, his leg bouncing. “Back to where she belongs. Heaven. Wherever or whatever. With Perry’s grandmother, Pippa.”
Maximus looks at me. “You did this?”
“No,” I tell him, and a wash of shame comes over me, as it often does when I think about the fact that I had nothing to do with it. “It was Ada.”
Max balks, brows raised. “Ada? Your sister?”
I nod, the shame quickly turning into pride. “Yeah.” I smile. “My little sister. She did that. She had help, but she was able to do it.”
“Help from who?” he asks.
“The same man who helped you get here,” I tell him.
“Which means,” Dex says, leaning forward in his chair, “that we don’t need Rose at all. We have Ada.”
“No.” The word automatically falls from my mouth, my hackles rising. “No, no, no.”
Dex turns to me, incredulous. “Why not?”
“Because she’s my sister!”
“You were going to have Rose do it.”
“Rose isn’t my sister. I barely know her,” I tell him. I look at Maximus. “And you trained Rose, right? She knows what she’s doing.”
He nods but Dex keeps talking. “Ada knows what she’s doing. She got your mother out of Hell. That’s not nothing.”
“She had Jay and Jacob,” I tell him. “And now Jay is gone.”
“So she has Jacob.”
“Jacob won’t do it. Or he can’t do it.”
“Did you ask him?”
“As a matter of fact, I did ask him. He said that he’s not able to and that Ada isn’t ready.”
Dex looks at Maximus. “She’s ready.”
I punch Dex on the shoulder. “She’s not. Stop volunteering my sister for a suicide mission.”
“How is this a suicide mission?” Dex cries out. “It should be a fuckton easier than what she did for your mother. She’s not going to Hell, she’s coming into this house, into this very spot where we’re all sitting and having a fucking grand old time, and she’s going to do something to the Veil and pull him out.”
“May I say something?” Maximus says, raising his hand like he’s in school. “First of all, I just want to say that it might not be as simple as all of that. What does Ada have that the two of you don’t?”
“A nicer handbag collection,” Dex says.
“She can do things,” I tell him. “She was being trained by, well, one of your kind, and then I guess things got complicated between them and he was sent off.”
“So she’s like Rose, then,” Maximus says. “If we’re not guarding, then we’re training. Sounds like she’s shaping up to be the same. Which means she should be able to do this just fine.”
I clamp my mouth shut. I don’t want to tell Maximus that I don’t want my sister to get him out of here, but I hate that she’s been brought into this at all. She’s already going through so damn much with Jay leaving her.
“However,” he goes on, coming over to us and sitting his big frame down on the leather couch. “Just because she can doesn’t mean she’ll be able to. You said that Jacob sounded against it?” I nod. “You have to wonder why that is.”
“Exactly,” I tell him.
We all lapse into silence for a few moments.
Dex then says, “So it sounds like the plan is, we bring Ada here and we don’t let Jacob know.”
“Dex,” I growl at him. “Stop it. And what makes you think she’ll want to do this? She’s barely even talking to me.”
“That doesn’t mean she won’t want to help Maximus. She was his friend, too.”
Maximus looks pleased at that. It’s almost adorable.
“Perry,” Dex says, grabbing my thigh. “Come on, kiddo, you know this is the only way.”
“Not if Rose gets back to me,” I grumble.
“Then Rose will get back to you and it will all be fine. But if she doesn’t…”
I sigh, rubbing the heel of my palm into my eye, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. “I can’t ask her over the phone. I’ll have to ask her in person.”
“We’re going there for Christmas,” Dex points out.
“That’s like three weeks away.”
“But Big Red here said time doesn’t pass the same.”
I look at Maximus, and he nods. “It won’t make much difference to me. I promise.” He grins. “Would make a mighty fine Christmas present, though.”
“Then it’s settled,” Dex says, getting to his feet. “We’ll come back here bearing tidings and joy.”
“Going so soon?” Maximus asks.
Dex pulls me to my feet. “Unfortunately, there’s that crazy witch lady in this house and I don’t want to tempt our fate a minute longer.”
“Understandable,” Max says, also getting up. “I think I need to escort you again, just in case Victor is making the rounds.”
“You know what happened to him, right?” I say to Max as we head to the door.
He nods. “Oh yes. The fella likes to follow me around the house, telling me all the things his wife did to him. Just my kind of luck that I get stuck in a house with a bickering married couple.” He looks at us over his shoulder. “Though you guys have given me plenty of practice.”
“Hey, you knew us before we were married,” I remind him.
“And you acted like a damn married couple from the very start,” he says. “Now shush.”
He opens the door and looks around the hall.
Just like before, we follow him up the stairs and leave without incident.
No more Victor.
And no Samantha.
I hate that twinge of disappointment I feel for not seeing her. It makes no sense, and I don’t dare voice it to Dex because then he’s really going to worry about my mental health.
I suppose I should be worrying too. I know I should.
So then why is there a part of me that thinks I just need to give her a chance to explain herself?
And why, when I finally crawl into bed that night, do I spend a few minutes staring up at the ceiling, her name whispering over and over in my head, inviting her back into my life?
I have questions.
She has answers.
I want to see her.
Just once.
* * *
Three a.m.
I sit up in bed, breathing hard.
I don’t even have to look at my phone to know the time.
I just know.
I take in a deep breath, trying to shake the doom from my heart. I had a nightmare. I know that much. I think I was back in the house, hiding in different rooms from Victor. Maximus was nowhere to be found, so I was calling for Samantha to help me.
She never came.
And then Victor opened the door.
Crawled toward me.
I screamed and screamed.
And here I am, awake.
It’s raining again, the clouds having moved in while we were sleeping, smothering the stars. The light in the room
seems more shadowy than normal and I keep thinking I’m seeing people standing in the corners of the room, watching me.
I am very, very afraid, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the nightmare clinging to me, or because I have reason to be.
I glance at Dex sleeping so peacefully beside me. I’m so envious that he doesn’t have to put up with this shit. I know he has in the past, but right now he’s just able to disconnect and let go and I…I have this horrible, dark feeling inside me that this is now a game I’m in and I’m never going to be able to escape. Like a trap has been set and I gladly walked into it.
I need to get up.
I need to use the toilet, get a glass of water.
I’m about to swing my legs out of bed and go, but I remember what Dex made me promise. That I would wake him up next time.
I stare at him for a moment, having an internal debate with myself.
Just let him sleep.
Don’t bug him.
He’s being overprotective.
What’s he going to do, join you in the bathroom?
You can protect yourself.
There’s nothing to fear.
But that last thought feels foreign to me. I know I fell asleep with less fear than I’ve had in a while and more curiosity than anything, wanting to reconnect with Samantha despite my logical side telling me otherwise.
Yet I know there is plenty to fear, especially right now, when that black oily feeling is pressing down on me again, and I’m starting to feel like an animal with its leg in a trap.
Before I get out of bed and change my mind, I reach over and tap Dex on his shoulder.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Are you awake?”
He sucks in a breath and then rolls over on his side to face me, eyes slowly opening. Then he blinks and sits up. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Just scared for no reason.”
“No reason?” he repeats, yawning. “What’s going on?”
“I have to go to the bathroom. You told me to wake you up…”
“I’m glad you did,” he says sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Guess.”
He leans over and picks up his phone, squinting at the bright light. “Ah. Three a.m. All right, well I might as well get some water.” He gets out of bed and comes over to my side, taking my hands and pulling me up. He kisses the top of my head. “Come on. I’ll be your shadow.”
We step out of the bedroom, and the rest of the apartment is freezing cold. He heads right over to the thermostat, fiddling with it. “Shouldn’t be this cold,” he says. He looks at me as I put my hand on the bathroom door. “You going to be alright in there?”
I open the door to the bathroom and flick on the lights.
There’s no one in here.
“I should be,” I tell him.
He frowns as if he doesn’t believe me, then comes over, walking in the bathroom, pulling back the shower curtain.
“Alright. You’re clear. You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
I give him a steady look and point to the door. “Get out.”
He raises his palms and leaves. “Fine, fine. I’ll be out here if you need me.”
He closes the door.
I take a chance and look at myself in the mirror, always wary of doing this in the middle of the night, expecting someone to be behind me or my face to change.
But it’s me. My face is thinner than it’s ever been, purple circles under my eyes. I don’t look great, and I’m exhausted to the bone. I need a good night’s sleep or something. I assumed that I’d been sleeping okay lately, but now I’m wondering if I’ve been getting up in the middle of the night without even realizing it. Have I come to the bathroom or gotten a glass of water and not remembered it? Have I met Samantha during any of those times? Maybe my week without seeing her has been a total lie.
That thought gets pushed out of my head. It won’t do me any good to entertain it.
I splash water on my face quickly, then use the toilet.
I wash my hands after, inspecting my face again, making a mental note that it’s time to start buying anti-aging cream, then head to the door.
I’m just about to put my hand on the knob when I watch the lock turn by itself, locking me in.
I stare at it for a moment, stunned. For a second I think that somehow Dex locked me in, but the lock is on this side, and I saw it move.
Then I hear the metallic scrape of the shower curtain closing.
Fear prickles my scalp, my skin erupting in a flurry of pins and needles, nausea rising in my gut.
I take in a deep, shaking breath, and slowly turn around, looking over my shoulder.
The curtain is closed around the bathtub now.
I gasp, the air catching in my chest. I can’t even scream.
And I can’t look away.
Can’t turn away.
Can’t stay away.
I find myself walking slowly across the bathroom in my bare feet, eyes glued to the tub as blood slowly starts to trickle over the edge and down the sides.
All my instincts inside me are screaming.
Telling me to run.
Telling me I’m going to die.
And yet I keep moving.
I have no control over myself anymore.
And deep down, there’s this curiosity that’s insatiable, that doesn’t really care if I live through this or not, so long as I find out the truth.
The blood starts to spill over my feet and I watch it sink into my skin.
My hand reaches for the curtain, expecting to see Samantha on the other side.
I pull it open.
But it isn’t Samantha floating in the bathtub of blood.
It’s me.
I’m naked, eyes clouded white, staring blankly at the ceiling, my black hair swirling around me like spilled ink, blood seeping from gashes at my wrists.
It’s me and I’m dead.
I shake in horror, my fingers reaching up, grabbing the shower curtain to steady myself.
My voice finds me.
I let out a violent SCREAM that echoes in the room.
And then the dead me turns her head to look at me.
Smiles.
“It’s going to happen sooner or later,” she says while rising up from the tub.
I scream again, the sound ripping out of my throat, yanking half the shower curtain off, and I’m turning around, slipping on the tiles and crashing to the floor just as the door starts to shake on its hinges, Dex yelling from the other side.
I feel the dark malevolent presence behind me as I lie on the floor, trying desperately to get to my feet, tangled in the shower curtain. Cold hands grab my ankles and start pulling me backward into the water. I scramble, trying to kick her away, trying to dig my nails into the floor, the bloody water splashing over me.
But it’s no use.
I can’t stop her.
I can’t hold on.
She’s pulling my legs up, my bones nearly breaking, twisting me around so I’m on my back and watching my dead doppelganger drag me into the tub with her.
“Dex!” I scream again. “Hurry! Please!!”
The room starts to shake as he slams himself against the door, but it holds when it shouldn’t.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
He’s not going to get in here, is he? He’s not going to be able to save me in time. And I can’t fucking save myself.
Not even from myself.
Then CRUNCH.
I hear the door slam open as Dex breaks in, my heart fluttering in relief.
“What the fuck?” he cries out.
The other me lets go of my legs, sinking quickly into the water, disappearing from sight.
There’s a lag, a silence, and I’m sure Dex is trying to process what he just saw.
Then the floor shakes as he runs to my side, drops to his knees beside me, pulling my legs out of the tub and onto the floor.
I crumple on myself as he pulls me up into his arms,
holding me tight.
“I’ve got you,” he says to me, his arms shaking.
I’m shaking too.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop.
Something inside me has snapped, something that was keeping me whole, something that can’t be put back together.
Seventeen
“We don’t have to go to this party if you don’t want to,” Dex says, fiddling with his tie for the millionth time. “In fact, I’m more than ready to stay home. Just give me the signal.”
I roll my eyes, more at the fact that he can’t ever seem to do his tie correctly. I get off the bed and come over to him. “Let me.”
His hands drop to his sides, while I take the silky ends of the tie and bring them together at his collar, the hollow of his throat moving as he swallows, his skin still nicely tanned against the white shirt. I can feel his eyes burning on me, the muscles in his jaw tense.
I glance up at him through my lashes and give him a soft smile. “I’m okay. I want to go. I mean, I really want to go. I need to be around people. I need to feel…normal.”
He presses his lips together, nodding softly. “I worry about you,” he says, voice rough, and I know that’s an understatement. He’s got hollows under his eyes now too because of all I’ve been going through.
“I worry too,” I say quietly, looping the end through and making it tie. “But I also know that if I stay in this apartment any longer, I’m going to go insane. More so than I already am.”
It’s been two weeks since the incident with Samantha in the bathroom. We’re well into December now, the holiday season around us in full swing.
It’s been hard to enjoy it.
To enjoy anything, actually.
My life now is nothing but fear.
Since the incident, I’ve seen Samantha many more times.
I’ve seen her while on a walk with Dex and the dog, her figure hovering in the background, walking behind us, trailing us, like a hunter stalking its prey.
I’ve seen her in the mirror behind me in the bathroom, so much so that we had to cover it up with a towel. That was after I smashed the mirror with my fist. I could still see her reflection fragmented in the cracks.
I’ve seen her standing in the corner of the bedroom.
And I’ve seen her crawl out of the fucking kitchen sink.
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