“You place your hand on this symbol.” I press my palm on the drop-like symbol and the entire room illuminates. Next to that symbol, a few others appear. “This one is for the shower, this one for the steam room and the last one is for the pool. You press the one you want once and when it activates, you can choose the temperature combination of the water. Red is hot, blue is cold. You press them repeatedly until you get the desired temperature,” I explain and demonstrate the mechanism.
She watches me intently, nodding along.
Once I’m done explaining, she bites her lip as she looks at me.
“I’d like to wash up. May I?”
“Of course,” I immediately answer and already make my way out of the room. “I… I’ll let you… do your thing.” Great, Nykander! You’re such a great conversationalist. “Since it’s late, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
I dash out, and with each step, my heart thuds faster in my chest.
She’s taking a bath. She’s going to be naked. In my house.
Damn it!Get your head out of the gutter, Nykander!
21
Iopen my eyes, another nightmare clawing its way through my mind.
It’s the same every time. The same whispers that turn into loud accusations.
Something drips to the ground, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. Immediately, I get up, thinking the worst—that something happened to Miss Moe.
But as I walk toward the door, I note drops of blood on the floor. My pulse quickens, but as I reach for the door I come face to face withher.
The Scarlet Lady.
Blood drips from her form onto the ground, staining everything red.
I reach out for her, a question forming on my tongue. But I don’t get to utter it aloud. In the next moment, a sea of red envelops me. And when my eyes open again, my surroundings have changed.
My memories, too, have changed. Gaps are suddenly filled—thousandsof years of memories of torment rushing through my mind, all against the backdrop ofherlaughter and one word.
Pathetic.
We’re suddenly inside Moe’s room. I’m at the far end of the door. The Scarlet Lady is by the window, her head inclined toward the bed where a sleeping Moe lies.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” she muses aloud.
“Get away from her!” I shout, desperation clawing at me. Memories of our previous encounters flash through my mind. My chest erupts in pain instantly, the sensation of her hand on my heart so vivid, I can barely breathe.
But this isn’t aboutme. If it had been, I would have just taken it in stride, hoping she would get bored of me eventually and let me go—it’s happened before. But Miss Moe… She is off limits!
“Come on, Nykander. We are friends, are we not?”
“I amnotyour friend,” I grit out in disgust. “You are a monster.”
“Me? A monster?” She asks incredulously right before she bursts out laughing. “I am your friend, Nykander.” Her voice changes. Now it’s firm, devoid of any amusement.
My emotions regulate in the blink of an eye. The previous terror and anxiety are replaced with mere confusion as I stare at her.
“Friend…” I repeat, as if searching for a particular frame of reference. My eyes widen in realization just as that memory awakens in my mind.
“It’s you!” I cry out jovially. “That pink cake was the best I’ve ever had,” I praise her sincerely. Ever since eating it, I have not tasted anything as sweet and decadent.
“Indeed. I am your friend, am I not?”
“Of course,” I agree immediately. “What brings you here?”
