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You should have eaten the sweets. You should have gone to sleep. Maybe you don’t want to know what happens next.
“Same,” Aurora said, lying down and turning toward Kandace. Her expression morphed into concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
Kandace nodded. “Yeah. I ate too much too.” She rubbed at her stomach. “Ugh.” She couldn’t risk telling them what she suspected, as she was almost positive the desserts were drugged. Sydney and Aurora would be passed out shortly. They’d be no help to her whether she told them or not. Her blood chilled. She was afraid.
But this was something she had to know. If she was going to do something about it later, she had to know what was happening here.
She made a quick trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth and when she returned, the girls were out cold. They hadn’t even changed into their nightgowns. Kandace went over to each in turn, pulling a blanket up to their chins.
Fear enveloped her, and a peculiar sadness she didn’t know how to explain. Loneliness maybe. There was no one to help her. Not here. Not anywhere.
She was in this alone.
“You’re stronger than you think you are,” she whispered to herself.
Quickly, she changed into her nightgown and climbed beneath her own blankets. Minutes later, the lights went out. Kandace lay in bed, the house creaking around her, the wind rushing past the eaves. Her heart beat hollowly, breath quickening when, after about twenty minutes, she heard the soft thud of heavy footsteps on the stairs, climbing closer, closer to the door of their room. It sounded like a man.
Tears threatened, but no, no, she wouldn’t cry. She had to do this. If someone was going to make this stop, she had to know exactly what they were doing first.
Which meant making them believe she was drugged like the others.
The doorknob turned slowly, and Kandace squeezed her eyes shut, willing her breath to even. The door squeaked open, showing a dim shaft of light that she could see even with her lids closed. For a moment, the person standing in the open doorway didn’t move. She could imagine him looking from one girl to the next, ensuring they were unconscious. The footsteps sounded again, moving closer to where Kandace lay, pretending to sleep the sleep of the drugged.
Calm, calm, stay calm. Do not move.
At her bedside, the footsteps came to a halt. She could feel his stare boring down at her. Kandace didn’t think she could go through with this. She almost opened her eyes. Almost screamed, tried to run, something. Her muscles tightened, primed for flight, but then his arms were scooping her up, and she willed herself to go limp again, to allow her body to be carried from the room.
Oh yes, she had been chosen.
The man carried her down the narrow flight of attic stairs. The lights in the hallways had either been turned back on or had never been extinguished. She didn’t dare crack her eyes. Kandace tried to pay attention to where the man turned, which hallways he took, which set of steps he went down so she knew where she was. The second floor, she knew that. A room on the west side at the end of a hall. This room must face the chapel.
The man used his foot to kick the door very softly, three quick taps, and then it was pulled open and he carried her through. The light dimmed behind her eyelids, and the smell of incense met her nose. Was this supposed to be some strange extension of the religious ritual they’d attended earlier? Possibly. Was that how they justified it? She was laid gently on something soft. A bed. Her blood turned to cement in her veins.
“What’s he doing here?”
He? Who is he?
“He always kicks up such a fuss over that ugly little girl being taken away,” Ms. Wykes murmured. “Good thing he loves the chocolate cake so much. Ignore him. Or don’t. You enjoy an audience on occasion, am I right?” There was dark humor in her voice and Kandace’s stomach rolled.
“You may leave now,” the man said. His voice was deep and smooth. Commanding.
“She must be prayed over first,” Ms. Wykes said. “So that her filth does not pass to you. Instead, may you cleanse her wickedness. May she be blessed. May your wife be blessed as well.” His wife? Was that what this was? Kandace and the other girls were useful as a means to relieve the wifely “burden” of other women considered more worthy? Cold metal touched her forehead—a crucifix? That silver one with the gemstones she carried everywhere?—as Ms. Wykes murmured a prayer under her breath, her voice reedy and thin. Panic rose within Kandace but she remained still.
“Don’t leave marks. And do not rouse her,” Ms. Wykes said before her footsteps could be heard moving toward the door. A moment later it shut behind her with a quiet click.
