12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Gothic Decay

Whispers.

That’s what brings me out of sleep.

I remember whispered secrets and desperate kisses. Only, I don’t wake up to blue moonlight. Instead there’s the yellow sunlight filtering through dusty windows.

Sometime in the middle of the night I made it across campus.

My dorm room.

I’m in my dorm room and hearing whispers.

Is Daisy bringing breakfast again?

Except when I open my eyes, I see two other people in the room. Daisy looks dressed for class while she directs some other young woman—a stranger—to sit on her bed. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” my roommate whispers.

“What am I supposed to do?” the young woman says.

She has honey-colored hair that’s grown long and shimmery with short cropped bangs. The effect emphasizes her round face, making her appear all of twelve, even though she’s probably older than that. Especially considering she’s in a college dorm room on a Tuesday morning.

“Read a book,” Daisy says, gesturing at a stack of textbooks.

“Don’t,” I manage to say, my voice husky with sleep. “If you aren’t required to read physics, I can’t imagine why you would.”

Daisy doesn’t quite manage to hide her wince. She turns to face me with a large, gorgeous smile. Gorgeous enough that I’m sure most people, men and women alike, are awed by it. And distracted.

I recognize her beauty, but I’ve been her friend long enough to know it’s the smile she uses when she’s hiding something.

“Good morning,” she says brightly.

I raise an eyebrow. “Introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh.” She glances back, as if surprised to see a whole person sitting on her narrow twin bed. “This is Mary. She’s my…sister.”

Holy shit. I sit up, dragging a hand over my face. “Hi, Mary.”

“You have a hickey,” the not-quite-twelve-year-old says.

A flush heats my face. The memory of William sucking my neck, biting me, while he thrust inside me still feels fresh. “So, are you visiting to take a campus tour?”

She snorts. “As if.”

Daisy’s overbright smile hasn’t wavered. “I’ll explain later, but I’m late for class. And if I’m tardy, the professor will use that as an excuse to—never mind,” she says at Mary’s interested expression. “The important thing is that I’ll be back in a few hours. We’ll figure it out then.”

Then she’s gone.

I spare a moment wondering what’s going on with her and Professor Stratford. The other Professor Stratford, that is. Then Mary hops off the bed, and I have more pressing problems. Like Mary poking around on our desks, her slender finger and inquisitive blue eyes landing too close to the Shakespeare Society-esque black envelope.

“So,” I tell her, my smile no doubt matching Daisy’s megawatt version. “Are you hungry? We could go down to the cafeteria.”

“Nah, I’m not supposed to be seen.”

“Not supposed to be seen?”

“I ran away from home.”

“Oh.” I wonder if this is one of those harmless running away from homes that teenagers do, not that I ever did. I would have worried too much about what kind of disaster would have fallen on the house if I had.

Considering Daisy’s upbringing, this is probably not regular.

“Will you go back?” I ask, not sure which is the better answer.

“Not unless she makes me,” she says, her voice sullen.

“She won’t.”

It isn’t my promise to make, but I can’t imagine Daisy making her sister return to that place. Unless it also threatens Daisy’s ability to be here. Shit. From the little I know about it, they barely let her come to college, even with the full-ride scholarship. How they could have stopped her isn’t something we’ve gone into detail about, but it sounds like there was abuse.

The idea of this sassy teenager facing pain makes me ache.

She lifts one slender shoulder, as if she feels my silent sympathy and rejects it. “Whatever. I could have gone somewhere else if she didn’t want me here. It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

I don’t want to know how she would take care of herself.

Selling her body?

It’s not that I can judge, but I don’t want that for her.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ll wait for her to come back.”

Mary throws herself into the desk chair, which emphasizes how baggy her jeans really are. Almost falling down, really. They must not belong to her. Exactly how dark and dangerous was this run from her hometown?

Very, most likely.

“So, Mary. Is that like the religious Virgin Mary?”

“Nah. I mean, my dad said that, but he’s full of shit. The reality is that our mom was into flowers. That’s how she ended up there. She wasn’t born into it. They recruited her saying it was a commune, that she could live free, that kind of thing. It wasn’t until she had Lily and Clover that she realized it was a trap, I think.”

“Oh.” What kind of flower…

“Marigold,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

I root around in the double buckets under my bed that stand in for a clothes dresser, since it’s clear that the option for sleep has passed. “Would you rather I called you Mary?”

“If you want me to answer,” she says with an arch look.

“And how old are you?” The question is a little abrupt, but if Tanglewood policemen are going to burst in here and accuse me of kidnapping, then I should at least know the basics about her.

“Fourteen,” she says.

She’s short for fourteen. Do they feed them in the cult?

I mean, in the commune?

“Okay,” I say, tugging on a pair of jeans beneath my oversized T-shirt that serves as pajamas. “Listen, it’s going to be really obvious if there’s a random new girl staying in our room. We use the same bathrooms as everyone else on the floor. And we eat in the cafeteria downstairs.”

Her expression falls, draining of its spark. “You need me to leave,” she says, her voice completely devoid of emotion. “Got it.”

“No,” I say, fighting down my anger at whatever and whoever made her so practiced at handling someone rejecting her. “I’m saying that I know a place where you’ll be safe, where you’ll have access to a bathroom and a small kitchen.”

“And where is this haven?”

It’s across campus, in a place that I’ve been very recently.

A place where I got this hickey, actually.

I text Daisy letting her know that we’re on the move, on the off chance that she gets back early and worries about her. It will be safer to go out now, when the hallways are bustling and no one will ask questions about a random person on our floor. Later at night it will be harder to do that. She’ll stand out more with her ill-fitting clothes and her baby face.

She follows me with her head down, glancing up with wide eyes to take in the campus as we pass through. The area around the cathedral is quiet, the bustle of students notably absent. It’s just us, and the echo of our hurried footsteps. I set a brisk pace, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath misting in the chilly air.

I can see the fear in her posture, the determination in the set of her chin. She’s trusting Daisy, trusting me , even though we just met. I won’t let her down.

As we approach the bell tower, a sense of unease washes over me.

I’ve never been here in the daylight.

It looks older and somehow gloomier.

The gothic decay of the building suits the moonlight.

Now, with the sun bouncing off the stained glass windows of the bell tower, it feels incongruous. Is William watching us? It’s only been hours since I left him. He won’t expect me. Will he worry that I’m bringing a stranger? He’ll probably chastise me for risking exposure, but he also will understand.

He wouldn’t let a young girl be in danger, either.

The building looms above us, its stone facade cold and imposing. The heavy wooden door creaks open, the sound echoing through the empty courtyard. I step inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.

The bell tower is silent, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of old books. I can hear the distant hum of the campus, but inside, it’s like time has stood still. Like we’re the only people left in the world.

I lead the way up the winding stone staircase, my footsteps echoing off the cold walls. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand clenches around the strap of her bag. She’s ready for anything, prepared to fight if she has to.

As we reach the top of the staircase, I pause, my heart in my throat. The room is empty, the small cot in the corner gone, leather briefcase missing.

There’s no sign of William.

No sign that anyone has been here at all.

Fear grips me, cold and harsh.

Is he safe? Has something happened to him?

The Shakespeare Society could have tracked him here. They could have dragged him out of here and then cleaned up the mess. Although it seems like I would see something , if that’s what happened.

“What’s going on?” The quiver in her voice reveals her age.

I take a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”

It’s not that reassuring, but I think she’d rather honesty than a lie. “Are we going to pray?”

“What?” Oh God, the cathedral. Of course she’d think me dragging her here had something to do with religion, considering her upbringing. Maybe she thinks the crazy lady is going to make her repent. “No, of course not. This is a good hideout spot. At least I thought it was.”

She cocks her head, drawing my attention to a post.

It’s one of the posts William used to tie my hands. The rope is still there, thick fibers wrapped around a square beam of wood, bloodred on scarred black walnut. Tucked flush between them is a note.

Had to run. Stay safe. - W

Well. That’s a good thing.

At least, it should be good.

Better than a ransom note from the Society, that’s for sure. Except it doesn’t feel good. It feels terrifying. This cathedral is a great hideout spot. And he’s gone. Left. He’s out there in the world. Now I understand what he meant with his growly threats, why he tied me up and didn’t want to release me. Now I understand how hard it is to know that the person you love is at risk.

A small hand curls in mine.

I look down to see Mary providing support, even though she can’t understand the scope of it. She understands grief, though. That much I can feel through the gentle weight of her lean, the warmth of her slender body.

“Is it still safe?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat of the worry that’s gathered there. “It’s still safe. There’s a mattress somewhere in the building, most likely. We need to find it. I’ll show you the bathroom and the kitchen. There’s even a little toaster oven. It’s ancient, but it’s actually better than we have in the dorm room.”