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My laptop calls. But I don’t have the Wi-Fi password, assuming Louisette has one. And would I find someone hacked my computer? I have a VPN installed. How secure is it, really?
My text tone sounds. I look at the sender. Cress. I notice a few were from the last couple of days while JL had my phone. I debate opening the app. That should be safe, right? As long as I don’t click on the texts? Uncertain, I watch messages appear and disappear on the lock screen.
CRESS: Have you landed in Vancouver?
CRESS: We had to go back to London, but we’re still going to Venice.
CRESS: WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING?
CRESS: EVERYTHING OKAY?
CRESS: We’re on the Orient Express. Squee.
CRESS: Amazing!!!!! Lunch in the English countryside, fizzy wine, and our own steward.
CRESS: Tomorrow we’ll be in Venice.
CRESS: LET ME KNOW YOU’RE OKAY, DAMMIT
My finger hovers over the keys. Not sure if I should respond or not. I want my life back, to answer my own questions, make my own decisions and yet…
Damn Sam to hell—in fact, to not just to some run-of-the-mill version but to one of the circles of Dante’sInferno. My mind spins to possibilities. It’s been years since I read the book so I google to refresh my memory.
The first circle isn’t really punishment since Limbo is for people who were alive before Christianity, like Plato and Julius Caesar. The second circle is Lust. Much more appropriate although the punishment, being blown back and forth by the wind, doesn’t sound dire enough.
I skip along to the seventh circle, Violence. After all, Sam did hit me and set fire to my parents’ house. This circle has three rings, and in the middle one, profligates are chased and torn apart by dogs. Promising.
After considering the ninth and last circle, Treachery, where the punishment is being frozen in a lake, I decide being torn apart by dogs is a fitting punishment. I never knew I could be so bloodthirsty. But after my encounter with JL’s mother, I don’t feel empathetic or charitable.
Guess I’ve been sitting here for quite a while because darkness steals into the room. Heavy steps come down the hallway. I look again at my phone, debating whether or not to answer Cress. Was it less dangerous when I googled Dante, or was that a mistake? I’m not sure how a hacker would track me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow loom in the doorway.
The light in the hallway illuminates his face faintly. He stares at the phone in my hand. “Micki? Why are you sitting all alone in the dark? I’ve gotten several frantic texts from Max because you aren’t responding to Cress.” JL sounds like he’s swallowed gravel. His shoulders droop as he walks in, arms outstretched.
My breath hitches. “Didn’t know if it was safe to answer.” I don’t mention my Google search.
“You should have come back and asked.” He sounds testy and I wonder what sort of conversation has been going on in my absence.
“I didn’t think your mother wanted me back in the living room.” I pick up my phone and hit messages.
ME: JL’s mother hates me.
CRESS: Thank God you’re not dead. I thought Sam had shown up in Vancouver.
ME: I could deal with that.
I turn off the device and throw it on the bed, giving JL a twisted smile. “There, I broke out of my exile and sent Cress a message.”
“What? I said ask, not just do it.” A frown mars his oh-so-tempting lips. I want to kiss the frown away. His next words let me know he’s pissed off. “This isn’t exile.” He rolls his shoulders and continues in a milder voice. “And we’ll be eating soon. Come and have some creton and cheese. And meet Angélique’s sons.”
“What’s creton?” I picture a mixture of something and cheese, like sardines and cottage cheese? My mom liked to mash them together. Maybe like a sandwich?
“Pâté. And I think Maman put out Kabritt and some local brie.”
I stretch and wipe my sleeve across my face. “Probably look like hell. Should I put on some makeup?”
“You’re fine,” JL says, combing through my hair with his fingers. “So silky,” he murmurs.
I flash back to the scene on the porch. “Question.”
