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A friend who I strongly assumed was the Deacon, though she spoke in vague language each evening as she stepped out.They’ve asked me over for dinner. They just called. They’re a good friend.I knew it was Deacon Rex but wasn’t sure what to do about it. She was an adult. She would be safe. The girls who had been stolen from Hart Hollow were exactly that … girls.
Resigned to stay in, I grabbed the Walkman Billy had loaned me from beneath my bed. I pressed play, the sound of the band creeping into my ears.
A few songs in, I glanced at my window, my instincts speaking to me when all else failed.
I’d vowed no one would ever sneak into my room.
I would never let that happen again. And perhaps that was the strongest reason for my insomnia.
Sorina’s pale face stared back at me, and her red hair looked almost black when I stepped in front of her. She didn’t ask me to open the window, but the question was there.Will you let me in?
She’d only been in my room once before, when I was high and sedated, but I couldn’t forget how she felt curled under my blanket with me. I thought it had been a dream, and she’d told me it was real. That night was not where I went when I drifted off, though. I went to the stage, the pool, the uncovering of myself under her hands.
I slid the window open, and a strange thing happened when I heard the rain. She didn’t crawl in like some inhuman thing, make me marvel at her unnaturalness as she had on the hill, slinking down the Deacon’s roof like a snake. Instead, she reached out to me to help her through, and I did not hesitate to touch her. She was so light, like a bird, and when I pulled her through the window, she clung to me as her feet hit the ground, wet soles on the carpet. I didn’t close the window, mesmerized by her glow. She appeared almost translucent when she looked up at me, wet lashes, red lips wet from the rain. She didn’t shiver, but I did.
“Close the window,” she said, voice dripping with something I couldn’t name, not yet. Later, I would recognize it.
Hunger.
I let go, walking around her to the window. When I turned back, I looked at what she was wearing. Black panties, no bra, a sheer black thing skirting the edges of the floor. I couldn’t tell if it was a robe or a shawl. I didn’t understand women’s clothing or half of the things she wore, but I could see her small breasts, ribcage, and the sharpness of her clavicle.
She was flesh, bone, and soft in small places my hands wanted to touch again.
She looked too human to be wearing so little out in the cold. Too fragile.
I pressed a finger to my lips, then stepped closer. “We have to be quiet. Valerie’s asleep. I was about to leave, but then—”
“The rain.”
“Yeah.”
Sorina walked to my bed. “Can I have a shirt?” she asked, pulling the sheer fabric from her wet skin. I moved to my closet, finding a grey shirt showcasing a band I didn’t recognize. I walked to her, and she turned around, bare, making me hum.
I averted my eyes after only a moment, and the smile on Sorina’s lips told me she didn’t mind. I’d seen every bit of her, every white moment, and she’d seen me.
She pulled the shirt over her head, then walked to my hamper, reaching for my dirty towel. She brought it to her wet hair, wrapping it around the strands, sopping up the water.
I walked to my bed and sat down, leaning against the wall.
“I saw you with Nicole the other night,” Sorina admitted once her hair was dry enough.
“We were studying,” I said, voice suddenly gruff.
“And talking about missing girls?” Sorina asked, walking to my door. She pressed her ear to the cheap wood, closing her eyes for a moment.
“Yes. We talked about Amber. Nicole was close to her,” I replied.
Sorina turned back to me, fingers of one hand still grazing the door. “Nicholas, I think you and your friends should leave this alone.”
I laughed, squaring my jaw. “Yeah, you said that before.”
“Will you not listen to me?”
I crossed my arms, rocking my head. “I spent my entire life on the ranch taking orders. I’ll never do that again. Take blind orders. Because that’s what you keep giving. Cryptic orders with ominous warnings. And the other night, what was that, a bribe?”
Sorina turned to me like I’d wounded her. Her big blue eyes seemed to flash darker. Outside, the rain fell herder. “A bribe? How do you mean?” Her voice sounded strange and familiar all at once. Gone again was her Romanian accent, the voice she used when others were around. She had no accent. None. I doubted anyone could study her voice and know where she came from. I was starting to think she came from my dreams, that I’d manifested her.
“You … what we did. Was it so I would listen to you? You said you’d kiss me if I agreed to leave the house alone.”
