Page 121 of Snake

Knox

Firelight paints erratic oranges and reds over everyone’s faces. Most of the dinner crowd has retired for the evening, but the die-hards are still inside Hart Manor’s courtyard beside the oak tree.

Gray all but pouted when he was sent to bed, but he didn’t argue about it. Romi said she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, so she’s gone too. From what I gather, the manor has several guest rooms. Probably for evenings like this, when guests are too drunk or too tired to attempt the twisty road back to town.

Now it’s just us and Nim, Jet, and Vicky. Ophelia is still here, but she’s been sleeping on Jet’s shoulder for the past thirty minutes, and I swear I hear the odd little snore from her.

Vicky is nursing a tumbler of whiskey, the same Jet poured for all of us except Nim, who’s drinking a cup of tea. She looks exhausted too, her eyes slitted as she stares into the firepit’s mesmerizing flames.

From the way we’re sitting on the circular bench, I’m less than a yard from Vicky. She’s been eying me for the past few minutes like she has something to say, but keeps losing the nerve to get it out.

Well I have some things to get off my chest, too. I stand, and she gives me a surprised look before shifting a little to the side so that I can fit in beside her.

“That’s nice what you did for the Miller family,” I murmur. Ophelia is between Jet and us, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that you never know who’s listening.

“It was well deserved,” Vicky replies, just as quietly. “Miller worked hard for the mines, despite...despite everything. He clocked in a shocking amount of overtime, more than the shift bosses apparently would give him.” She shakes her head, her eyes finding the fire again. “I did what I could, gave them the full payout. It can never be enough to replace him, but hopefully it gives them a chance at a fresh start.”

Hm. A fresh start. Wouldn’t that be nice? If only it came with a blank slate of memories, too.

I pick at my thumbnail as I peer down into the amber depths of my glass. Beside us, Jet lights up a fresh cigar. “I thought you were dead,” I whisper.

I’m not sure Vicky heard me until she goes rigid. “Knox...”

“My sisters too.”

I’ve come to terms with the fact that Vicky is my aunt, not my mother, but the monsters are still my sisters. We share an abomination of a father, after all. No one can take that away from us.

Vicky dips her head. “I wasn’t myself. God, Knox, if you knew...It was like I’d fallen down a well, and it was slowly filling with rainwater. I told myself I’d survive, but with each passing day, I just got weaker and weaker.”

“But why them?” My voice is harsh enough to make Jet turn his head, but he gives the two of us one look before turning his attention back to the fire. Ophelia shifts a little, and he lays a hand on her cheek, leaning his head in like a hug. “How could you decide for them like that?”

Vicky’s hand is shaking, the ice cubes in her glass tinkling against the sides. “You’ll never understand, sweetie. When you’re a mother...the decisions you have to make...”

I fold forward, ducking my head, my glass between steepled fingers as I stare at the floor.

“Was I one of those tough decisions?” I ask, mumbling more than anything else.

A brisk breeze finds its way into the courtyard. A few yards away, the oak tree shuffles its leaves together. The dead ones fall with faint tapping sounds to the gravel beneath.

Winter is almost here. From the snow we’ve already had, it’s going to be a brutal one. People like the Harts, they’re prepared with their grand fireplaces, insulated windows, and firepits. But what about the rest of the town? Those less fortunate sheltering under whatever soggy cardboard they can find, hunkering against the crumbling brick walls of narrow alleys down there in Outbye?

“Were you...?” Vicky turns to me, and I realize she has tears in her eyes when she blinks and sets them free to race down her cheek. She swipes them up quickly, glancing over at Jet as if to check if he noticed.

His eyes are still on the fire, though. He’s as lost in the dark with his demons as everyone else around this firepit.

Except for Ophelia. She seems nice enough, so I’m hoping she’s in some pretty meadow, or whatever the equivalent of her dreamland would be.

Maybe unicorns. She strikes me as the kind of woman who might like unicorns.

“No, Knox. I mean—” Vicky sniffs, takes a long pull at her glass. “It wasn’t even a decision. Bianca, she—” Vicky squeezes closed her eyes for a second before they spring open. “I loved my sister. And I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” She turns to me, her blue eyes glowing, a sad smile on her perfectly painted lips. “You were a charmer, even back then. A bundle of joy, literally. You were always smiling, this little dimple in your chin.”

She touches me on my face, and then snatches back her hand like I stung her.

“You never told me how she died.”

Vicky’s face turns to concrete. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It was him, wasn’t it? Lorenzo? He killed her. He raped her, and then came back and killed her after I was born. Did he know about me from the start? Was that why she died?”

---