Page 37 of An Immaculate Deception

Something clicks in my mind. I spring into action. I must find a way out of this chamber, and I must do it quickly before they come for me, while they still think I’m asleep. I pause in the middle of the room, looking for some sharp object I can use to break the window. But there are no pieces of furniture, no objects lying around. There are only the podium, the table, the pillars where the torches sat, and…

I swallow. I tiptoe over the blood, careful not to make a noise, not to slip again. My senses are on high alert. I stop before the table, heart pounding in my chest. I draw an inhale, then I lift the tarp.

It’s a girl. Gray skinned, purple lips, and deathly still. Long hair parted in the middle. Looks my age. The dagger is still lodged in her chest.

The reality of it—this is a real person, a real human—makes my knees tremble. But there’s no time to think. I seize the handle and wrench it free. The blade comes out crimson. The stench takes my breath away. I run to the boarded-up window on the far end of the room.

I know this will make noise. The noise could alert them to me, so there is no room for error. I muster all the focus and strength I have, then hammer the blade to the wood. The planks start to yield. I slide the blade between the edges to loosen the pieces, then the boards come apart. I shield my eyes with my free hand to protect against flying shards, and with the other hand I strike the glass. It cracks, severs, then shatters.

21

I run past the gardens, past the stable and a shouting groundskeeper, past a stone fountain and a small orchard. My arms sting where the glass cut when I jumped through the window, but I don’t slow. I hop a stone gate and stumble upon the road. I don’t stop to catch my breath or look back. I do not know if it is the will to live, but my body feels stronger, lit up with an internal fire that propels my legs forward.

I reach the sidewalks. Doctor Lobo’s house is behind me, and I don’t dare look back. I have no plan but to leave the house far behind me.

When I can no longer run, I walk. If I could no longer walk, I would crawl. On all fours like a louse looking for a hole in which to hide. I imagine he is behind me, fast on my heels. I pass a yellow house where a couple sit on their front porch, reading aloud to each other. I try to shout out to them for help, but the noise that comes out of my throat is hoarse and feeble. They see me, point, and stare.

My vision starts to blur. The sun rises high in the sky, blazing. Every muscle in my body burns. I fear I am moving achingly slow.

A carriage rolls to a halt beside me. I try to recall what Doctor Lobo’s carriage looked like, but I cannot be sure. Nor can I tell which direction it came from—Doctor Lobo’s mansion?

The door opens and I start to turn away in terror, but to my surprise, it is Leandro who steps out. He helps me up, then tucks me into the seat.

“You’re bleeding!” he says once we’re in the carriage. “What happened?”

“Take me far away from here. Make haste!”

The carriage takes off. I look out the window and don’t see Doctor Lobo anywhere on the road. I do not know if he chased me. I do not know if he ever even noticed I escaped. The road looks eerily deserted now. Flowering trees sway in the wind as if nothing bad ever happened. The couple that was reading on their porch now stand on the sidewalk, book in hand, looking out.

“What’s happened?” Leandro repeats. He tears off a piece of his shirt to bandage my cuts.

“It’s not my…” I trail off. It’s not my blood, I don’t think, but I’m not sure. (No, I am sure, I am sure I killed her.) But I have cuts on my arms from squeezing through the broken window. The blood drips down over my arms and elbows. They are superficial wounds, but some of the blood is mine.

“My baby…” I press a hand to my belly. A sickening feeling comes over me. Will my baby be harmed by all this? I hope to God that my baby wasn’t injured in the process, yet I can’t imagine that he wasn’t. This is all punishment because of what I did last night. I try to calm myself, to remind myself that I wasn’t actually harmed in the ritual…Was I? No, no, if I had been, how would I have been able to run so much? However, that girl…

“I never should have allowed him to take you away,” Leandro says. “I wasn’t thinking straight last night, I drank too much. But this morning I came as soon as I rose. For God’s sake, what happened? Did he hurt you?”

I swallow. I can’t even begin to imagine how I can explain myself—what version of events I can offer that doesn’t incriminate me.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” Leandro says.

“No more doctors!”

“Why not?”

“Doctor Lobo is a dangerous man.” I pause. “How did you know I would be here?”

“What?”

“Last night he was meant to take me home. How did you know he never took me home? You knew to come look for me here.”

Leandro pales. “I…Last night while you waited in the carriage, he told me he planned to take you to his house. I told him not to. In my inebriated state, I believed him when he acquiesced. But this morning when I woke up sober, I remembered what he said and had a bad feeling about it. Did he hurt you?”

“I agreed to stay in his house overnight only so I wouldn’t show up at Mother’s door so aggravated. He was meant to take me to Mother’s house today. But I woke in the middle of the night.” I pause. “I heard a noise. I went downstairs and I came upon a dark chamber where…there was a secret ritual of sorts. It was some sort of black magic ritual, I believe.”

His jaw drops in shock. “A black magic ritual?”

I nod. No one must ever know what I did. I shall take that to my grave. But what of the men? Will they come after me?