“Mom still isn’t back yet.”
There were no clocks, so I didn’t know the time. All I could do was gauge the time by the light coming through the windows. It was dark outside, with a hint of sunrise. That meant she’d been gone all evening.
I already knew what they’d done to her. “She’ll be back soon.”
“But why is she still gone?”
“I’m not sure. But I wouldn’t worry about it.”
She was beside me on the other pillow, the sheets pulled to her shoulder, the cotton sleeve of her white shirt poking out a bit. Her hands were pulled to her chest underneath the blankets, her knees folded in tight, making herself as small as possible. “Do you have any kids?”
“Not yet.” And not ever, probably.
“Are there other kids here?”
“No.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Not sure. Must have been a mistake.”
“I miss my dad… I miss my friends… I miss my room.”
The amount of suffering I’d endured didn’t compare to this. It was just so wrong that a child was there, living in a nightmare that would scar her for life. She spent most of her time in the cabin or at the church with the other angels, so her mind was shielded then, but I suspected that would change if we didn’t get out of here. “You’ll be back soon enough.”
“I hope so. My dad must miss me.”
Oh, she had no idea. “He’ll be so happy to have you back. What are you guys going to do first?”
“We go to the movies a lot.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“And we play house with my dolls.”
I suppressed the smile that wanted to take up my face, because Benton did not look like a man who played house with a little girl, moving dolls around and making them talk. But clearly, he was a different man for his little girl. I remembered what Beatrice had said. There’s only one woman that man will ever love. The rest of us mean nothing to him. But that was how it should be.
“Can I play with you guys sometime?”
“Sure.” Her eyes started to light up with excitement, her thoughts on normal stuff now, not scary men with the skulls. “I have a whole collection of dolls. Ruby, Diane—” She went on, telling me about all her toys, about her classmates, about her favorite gelato they would get together.
I’d tried to dispel her fear by talking about normal things, but she was the one who made me feel better. I could picture the two of them together, sitting in a café with their gelatos on cones, a father spending time with his daughter.
It was beautiful.
The door opened.
Claire jerked at the sound. “Mom?”
I got out of bed and grabbed my dagger from the nightstand.
The Malevolent came in, Beatrice in their arms.
They dropped her on the bed, stared at me for a few heartbeats as I gripped the dagger, and then disappeared.
“Mommy?” Claire crawled over to her mom and looked down at her.
Beatrice was unresponsive, blinking her eyes a couple times but unable to focus on anything. Her breathing was quick, a direct contradiction to her sleepy appearance, and I knew the drugs were still rampant in her system.
“What’s wrong with my mom?” Claire asked.
“She took that pill I told you not to take. So, make sure you never take it.” It was hard on our bodies, but on a child… It might kill her.
Claire nodded.
I pressed my fingers to Beatrice’s head, feeling the scorching temperature. “Beatrice, it’s Constance. I’m right here, alright? Just relax and wait for it to pass. You’re in a safe place now. Just relax…”
I couldn’t tell if she could hear a word I said.
Claire grabbed her mother’s hand and held it. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes,” I said confidently. “She just needs a couple—” When I looked down, I noticed a spot of red. It was coming from Beatrice, soaking into the sheets. “Claire, come with me.” I took her hand and escorted her into my room. “Just get some sleep. I’m going to take care of your mom, okay?”
“But…I don’t want to be alone.”
“Just call my name, and I’ll be here in a few seconds, alright?” I helped her into bed and tucked her in, like I would read her a bedtime story and she’d drift right to sleep. “Get some sleep.”
I went back into the other room and turned Beatrice over.
Blood.
It came from her back.
She gave an incoherent moan.
I lifted up her shirt…and what I saw was horrific.
She’d been carved—with a knife.
Slits over her shoulder blades…where her wings would attach if they were real. “Oh shit…” I went into the bathroom and found what I could, trying to stop the bleeding from the flesh. It had mostly stopped already, but I didn’t want her to lose too much blood, and even if she didn’t, she would get an infection if this wasn’t covered.