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She stared into the mirror, taking stock of herself for the first time in a long while. Her hair was a complete train wreck. Her body was sweaty and sore — the latter probably from sleeping in these tiny wooden beds.
“If you’re actually expecting me,” she told the mirror, “I’m coming. So buckle up, Lady Neveux. I’m long past caring whether you’re ‘under the weather’ or not.”
Satisfied that she looked at least somewhat presentable, Melody crossed the little bedroom and grabbed the doorknob.
It didn’t budge.
Ah, shit.
She jigged it again, but it was no use. The old knob was intricate but sturdy. She was locked in.
The key…
The key should’ve been on the corner of the night table, exactly where she left it. She knew without looking what her eyes told her only a moment later… that the key was no longer there.
“FUCK,” Melody swore out loud.
18
Being locked in her bedroom enraged Melody even more than she thought it would. She was being treated like a child. Kept in check, prevented from accomplishing her mission.
What if Eric locked you in here?
The thought not only crossed her mind, it made her furious. She could picture him out there right now, acquiring the egg. Maybe even leaving with it.
Leaving her there…
No fucking way.
She grabbed t
he window again, but it didn’t open. Just as it had yesterday, the jamb stuck.
It only made her angrier.
Melody pushed and she pulled. She kicked at the frame, trying to loosen it up, but all she succeeded in doing was hurting her foot. In the end, she shouldered it as hard as she could. Drove herself painfully into the top of the window casing, while gritting her teeth against the impact.
“Come on!”
CREEEAK.
The window moved.
Hope blossomed. Grabbing with both hands, Melody braced her feet against the floor and shoved. The window slid upward; first an inch, then two, then a whole foot. She continued until she’d wedged it all the way open, and a nighttime breeze flooded in.
Down below, the side lawn of the house was a sea of muted grey in the moonlight. It was far, but not too far. The trouble was, there was nothing to jump into. No hedge, no pile of leaves… nothing but cold hard ground.
Melody looked to the right. There was a balcony attached to the next room.
The ledge might hold you.
She glanced down, to where a small two-inch piece of flashing hugged the manor’s outside wall. To call it a ledge was being generous. It was more of a toehold.
No, it was too dangerous. Too foolish a risk. What would Xiomara think if she broke her ankle, or snapped her neck? All because she tried climbing out on a piece of flimsy, two-inch wide—
Anything’s better than being in here.
A coldness crept over Melody as she looked down at her bed. The dream came floating back to her in bits and pieces. The unseen thing, trying to enter her room. Her face, her eye, all twisted and distorted in the mirror…
