Page 10 of I Will Mend You

“Why, little ghost?” I whisper under my breath.

“Found her!” Tyler yells.

“Show me.”

An alert pops up on my laptop, and I double-click a video containing footage from the private jet airport ramp. A white truck pulls in, and a blond man emerges from the front passenger side. Jynxson and I lean closer as Amethyst slips out, clad in a black leather corset and short skirt.

I grind my teeth. Since when did she have male friends?

My blood boils as she links arms with the blond and saunters toward the jet’s steps as if she didn’t just try to burn me alive before committing a string of murders. The driver’s side door opens, letting out an athletic-looking dark-haired man, who walks to the back of the truck.

All my attention is on the man with Amethyst, who wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in for a kiss as they approach the steps of the jet.

Then the footage skips to take off.

“Is it spliced?” I hiss.

“Very badly,” Jynxson mutters.

“Let me see if any other cameras caught another angle,” Tyler says.

I forward the clip to Tyler’s assistant with a request to look up all flights from Mannez Airport, and she messages back with:

Xero. I was investigating the cause of the fire and checked the browser history of your office computer. I saw the first few seconds and scrubbed forward, wanting to find out who filmed you and Amethyst together, and I found something that might explain the cause of the fire.

A second later, she sends a link to a video of Amethyst running through the cemetery. Recognizing it as the clip hermother played the day she barreled into 13 Parisii Drive like a disgruntled banshee, I skip forward.

What happens after the cloaked figure chloroforms Amethyst sends me throwing the laptop across the room.

FIVE

AMETHYST

The bus advances toward the derelict hospital, over the uneven driveway, passing weeds taller than its windows. Every instinct beats against the cushiony haze of drugs to scream the same warning:

Do not enter that building.

I have no memory of ever having been there, yet the sight of its crumbling brick facade and tall, blackened windows awaken primal terrors that make my skin break out in a cold sweat. I duck beneath my seat, trying to sink through the floor, hoping it’s a way to exit this dream.

Locke and Dolly laugh at my futile attempt to escape, but I’m too sickened with dread to care. If I allow these people to take me inside, it will be horrific.

The bus stops, its doors opening with a familiar pneumatic hiss. The straitjacket I’m encased in becomes too heavy, too tight, too scratchy. Its neckline constricts around my throat like a noose, making me choke.

“Fen,” Dolly snaps. “Bring her outside.”

I close my eyes, clench my jaw, quicken my breath and focus. Focus on breaking out of this nightmare or coma induced hallucination. Focus on working out how the hell I’m going to escape.

Two sets of footsteps retreat, only for a heavier set to approach. I wriggle beneath the seat, pressing my head to the floor in a futile attempt to hide.

“Hey,” Fen says, his voice tight. “Get out of there.”

I’m going nowhere. They’ll need to cut me out of this bus.

The large man paws at my body, trying to pry me out of my hiding spot, but I’ve already tucked my ankles close to my belly. If he wants me off the bus, he’ll have to drag me out by my ass.

With a grunt, he lumbers around to the front, trying to approach me from another angle, but I’ve already scooted out of range.

“Come on, Amy. We can’t stay here all night,” he says, his calloused hand reaching for my arm.

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