Sweet Shadows
Page 67
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When Gretchen has cleaned the plate of food and chugged half the bottle of soda, she walks over to the chair. With her superhuman strength, she easily lifts Nick up to the seat.
“Help me resecure his wrists,” she instructs.
Pulling a dagger from her boot, she slices through the zip ties. His arms fall limp at his sides. She grabs one and drags it around behind, pulling out a fresh zip tie and strapping his wrist to the back of the chair. She hands me another tie, and I do the same with his other arm.
Grace watches as we secure his ankles to the front chair legs and step back.
“How soundproof is this room?” Gretchen asks.
“Quite,” I say. “Mother had the entire room re-insulated after my first slumber party. The noise was too—”
“Good,” she says.
Taking a step forward, she swings her arm wide and slaps Nick square on the cheek. When that gets no response, she repeats the action. This time he groans but doesn’t regain consciousness.
The dizziness hits me again. I grab the back of the chair to keep from crashing to the ground. This time, the image is of an analog clock face. The hands spin, zooming past hours in mere seconds. When the big hand has made several complete circuits of the clock, the image dissolves, replaced by one of Nick sitting in the chair. He shakes his head and his eyes blink open.
Then the image and the dizziness disappear.
“I—” I shake my head. “I don’t think he’s going to wake up for a few hours.”
Gretchen nods. “Probably not. I hit him pretty hard.”
Grace gives me a curious look, and I ignore it.
“Can I crash here?” Gretchen asks. “I’m exhausted, but I want to be around when he comes to.”
“Of course,” I say automatically, shifting into hostess mode. “Let me get you some bedding.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’ll be fine with that blanket on the couch.”
I want to argue—every etiquette-ingrained bone in my body screams, telling me to make her a comfortable bed—but frankly I don’t have the energy. I feel drained. I don’t know if it’s that I’m still exhausted from holding the pendant or the act of opening the portal or the weird dizziness I’ve been having ever since, but I feel like I’ve been awake for a week.
“Actually,” I say, “I think I could use a nap as well.”
“Can I stick around? I don’t feel like going home right now,” Grace says.
She doesn’t say as much, but I think she wants to give Thane some time to process her news.
“Of course,” I say. “Make yourself at home.”
“Can I use your computer?” she asks. “I have some research I want to do.”
“Research?”
She gives me a meaningful look.
“Oh, research.” As in tracking down our biological mother. “You can use the laptop in my room. I’ll show you on my way to a long, steaming-hot bath.”
“Great,” Gretchen says as she drops onto the couch. Balling the blanket up like a pillow, she stretches out and closes her eyes. “Catch you later.”
The little monkey creature curls up at her feet and follows her into slumber land. Long-lost triplet asleep on the couch, mythological monkey monster right there with her, and descendant of a goddess unconscious and tied to a chair. Clearly, the amount of normalcy in my life is severely limited at the moment.
I lead Grace up the basement stairs, through the house, and up the two flights to my room. She remains unusually quiet the entire way.
“There’s my laptop,” I say, pointing to the open computer sitting on my desk. “The password is greerthegreat, all one word, lowercase.”
“Thanks,” she replies quietly.
I can tell she has something on her mind, so I take my time gathering my clothes for after my bath. I’m just folding my cashmere lounge pants onto the pile with my silk camisole when she says, “I’m so glad she’s home.”
“Me too.”
“I’m glad we didn’t have to go into that place,” she continues. “Does that make me a coward?”
“No,” I say, setting my clothes on the bed and crossing to her side. “That makes you brave. Because you were scared and willing to go in there anyway.”
She smiles. “I guess so.”
“And you’re not alone.” When she looks up I smile. “I was terrified too.”
Her shoulders relax and I feel like I’ve done a good deed. I made her feel better, and that—I’m surprised to admit—makes me feel better. Maybe I’m getting the hang of this sister thing after all.
As Grace takes a seat at my desk, I grab my clothes and retreat to the bathroom. Steam billows through the room as hot water fills the pristine claw-foot tub. Moments later, I’m sinking into heaven, surrounded by the scent of jasmine bubble bath.
My eyes are already closed when the dizziness hits. I smile when an image of the Immaculate Heart gym, transformed into a dreamy paradise for the alumnae tea, drifts through my mind. I’ll take a vision like that any day. And tomorrow I will make it a reality.
CHAPTER 27
GRETCHEN
Moaning. I wake to the sound of moaning, and for a few groggy moments, I think I’m back in the abyss. That entire place moaned.
But the surface beneath me is soft, padded, not rock-hard stone. The air is cool but not cold. The smell is tolerable. Nothing like the abyss. And my stomach isn’t trying to gnaw its way out of my body.
“Help me resecure his wrists,” she instructs.
Pulling a dagger from her boot, she slices through the zip ties. His arms fall limp at his sides. She grabs one and drags it around behind, pulling out a fresh zip tie and strapping his wrist to the back of the chair. She hands me another tie, and I do the same with his other arm.
Grace watches as we secure his ankles to the front chair legs and step back.
“How soundproof is this room?” Gretchen asks.
“Quite,” I say. “Mother had the entire room re-insulated after my first slumber party. The noise was too—”
“Good,” she says.
Taking a step forward, she swings her arm wide and slaps Nick square on the cheek. When that gets no response, she repeats the action. This time he groans but doesn’t regain consciousness.
The dizziness hits me again. I grab the back of the chair to keep from crashing to the ground. This time, the image is of an analog clock face. The hands spin, zooming past hours in mere seconds. When the big hand has made several complete circuits of the clock, the image dissolves, replaced by one of Nick sitting in the chair. He shakes his head and his eyes blink open.
Then the image and the dizziness disappear.
“I—” I shake my head. “I don’t think he’s going to wake up for a few hours.”
Gretchen nods. “Probably not. I hit him pretty hard.”
Grace gives me a curious look, and I ignore it.
“Can I crash here?” Gretchen asks. “I’m exhausted, but I want to be around when he comes to.”
“Of course,” I say automatically, shifting into hostess mode. “Let me get you some bedding.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’ll be fine with that blanket on the couch.”
I want to argue—every etiquette-ingrained bone in my body screams, telling me to make her a comfortable bed—but frankly I don’t have the energy. I feel drained. I don’t know if it’s that I’m still exhausted from holding the pendant or the act of opening the portal or the weird dizziness I’ve been having ever since, but I feel like I’ve been awake for a week.
“Actually,” I say, “I think I could use a nap as well.”
“Can I stick around? I don’t feel like going home right now,” Grace says.
She doesn’t say as much, but I think she wants to give Thane some time to process her news.
“Of course,” I say. “Make yourself at home.”
“Can I use your computer?” she asks. “I have some research I want to do.”
“Research?”
She gives me a meaningful look.
“Oh, research.” As in tracking down our biological mother. “You can use the laptop in my room. I’ll show you on my way to a long, steaming-hot bath.”
“Great,” Gretchen says as she drops onto the couch. Balling the blanket up like a pillow, she stretches out and closes her eyes. “Catch you later.”
The little monkey creature curls up at her feet and follows her into slumber land. Long-lost triplet asleep on the couch, mythological monkey monster right there with her, and descendant of a goddess unconscious and tied to a chair. Clearly, the amount of normalcy in my life is severely limited at the moment.
I lead Grace up the basement stairs, through the house, and up the two flights to my room. She remains unusually quiet the entire way.
“There’s my laptop,” I say, pointing to the open computer sitting on my desk. “The password is greerthegreat, all one word, lowercase.”
“Thanks,” she replies quietly.
I can tell she has something on her mind, so I take my time gathering my clothes for after my bath. I’m just folding my cashmere lounge pants onto the pile with my silk camisole when she says, “I’m so glad she’s home.”
“Me too.”
“I’m glad we didn’t have to go into that place,” she continues. “Does that make me a coward?”
“No,” I say, setting my clothes on the bed and crossing to her side. “That makes you brave. Because you were scared and willing to go in there anyway.”
She smiles. “I guess so.”
“And you’re not alone.” When she looks up I smile. “I was terrified too.”
Her shoulders relax and I feel like I’ve done a good deed. I made her feel better, and that—I’m surprised to admit—makes me feel better. Maybe I’m getting the hang of this sister thing after all.
As Grace takes a seat at my desk, I grab my clothes and retreat to the bathroom. Steam billows through the room as hot water fills the pristine claw-foot tub. Moments later, I’m sinking into heaven, surrounded by the scent of jasmine bubble bath.
My eyes are already closed when the dizziness hits. I smile when an image of the Immaculate Heart gym, transformed into a dreamy paradise for the alumnae tea, drifts through my mind. I’ll take a vision like that any day. And tomorrow I will make it a reality.
CHAPTER 27
GRETCHEN
Moaning. I wake to the sound of moaning, and for a few groggy moments, I think I’m back in the abyss. That entire place moaned.
But the surface beneath me is soft, padded, not rock-hard stone. The air is cool but not cold. The smell is tolerable. Nothing like the abyss. And my stomach isn’t trying to gnaw its way out of my body.
