Page 83 of Snake

Nim

The hoot of an owl drives me from a dead sleep. I sit up, blinking in the darkness, trying to make out where I am. Did I fall asleep in the car? I remember nothing after Mason drew me against him. They must have carried me into their cave.

A cool breeze rifles through my hair. I shake it out of my face with an annoyed flick of my head, and then freeze.

This isn’t a cave.

I’m in a bedroom.

The breeze is coming through the window on the other side of the room, a lace curtain billowing ever so slightly. Is that why it’s so cold in here? I shiver, reach out, grab hold of a soft mink throw draped over the lower half of the bed.

I draw the small blanket over my shoulders as I look around. Now that my eyes are more accustomed to the dark, I can make out the rest of the furniture in the room. A dressing table with a stool, a built-in closet, an armchair. My Feast of Ashes dress is hanging up on the outside of the closet, the hanger tucked over the top of the door.

Wait...if that’s the dress I arrived in, then what am I wearing?

Exploratory fingers brush against a white dress shirt. It’s buttoned almost all the way up, but it’s several sizes too large for me. When I slide out of bed and stand, it comes to mid-thigh.

Must be one of the guys’. I toy with the top button as I clasp the throw around my shoulders like a cloak and pad barefoot out of the room. The door is open, the hallway outside unlit. But there must be a full moon tonight and no clouds, because a gray light suffuses everything I see.

Three more doors branch off this hallway, all standing either open or ajar. A full bath with cold tiles underfoot where I take a second to empty my aching bladder. Another bedroom, smaller than mine, empty.

I can hear the sounds of rhythmic breathing when I reach the threshold of the door at the end of the hall. Just from the layout of the doorways, it’s obvious this is the master suite.

Who’s inside? Mason, Knox, Silas?

Whatever place I’m in, it’s lavishly furnished, decked out with marble floors and thick, decadent carpeting.

I step inside the room, narrowing my eyes in the sudden gloom. The curtains are drawn, so the only light comes from the hallway. The space is big—two armchairs in front of a marble fireplace. A dressing table and chair. Two doors leading off, one of which I assume is an en-suite bathroom.

Then there’s the bed. It must be a king-size, because I’ve never seen anything bigger in my life. It has a canopy, but the lace curtains are tied back. There are two shapes on there. I recognize one as Mason—he’s the only one of the three who looks huge, even lying down. There’s someone beside him, several feet of empty bed between them.

Then I see the glint of eyes in the dark near one armchair. If I hadn’t just used the bathroom, I’d probably have wet myself. I pluck away the hand that fluttered to my heart, turn, and head down the hallway.

Knox follows, silent as a fucking cat. The only way I know he’s behind me is when I glance nervously over my shoulder and see his silhouette.

I try to ignore him as I find my way to the kitchen, but there’s this tension that keeps building and building. I have to confront him, or I’ll snap.

“Stop following me!” I whisper furiously, spinning on my heel to face him.

He stops at the big archway leading into the kitchen, leaning his hip against the wall as he studies me for a moment. There’s more light in here—it falls in through the giant floor-to-ceiling sliding door on the other end of the space, and a large skylight above the center island of the open-plan kitchen. Subtle, hidden lighting illuminates the glass-fronted cabinets. “I thought you’d sleep straight through,” Knox says.

“I was thirsty,” I lie, glancing around for a cup. Some cupboards have glass doors, but as I spot the glasses, Knox is already there, taking one out. He hands it to me, and I consider being childish and taking out another one, but I snatch it from his hand instead.

“I like it,” he says.

I pour water from the faucet, frowning for a second until I realize what he’s talking about. Reaching up, I touch my short hair self-consciously. “Good for you,” I mutter.

When I turn to face him, there’s a storm brewing in his eyes. He purses his lips, stepping closer. “Nim...I’m sorry. This should never have happened. We should have been more vigilant. Should have protected you better.”

I laugh bitterly. “The bullies should have protected me from the bully?”

There’s irritation on his face, but he visibly forces it away until nothing remains but his usual calm mask. I wonder if it’s his shirt that I’m wearing, since he’s only in boxers.

“You’re right. I’m being hypocritical.” He steps closer still, and I have to steel myself so I don’t retreat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”

I shrug. “So what, Knox? It’s done. You can’t change that—none of us can.” I drain the rest of the glass and point at him with one finger, still holding it with the others. “You know what you can do? You can drive me into town tomorrow so I can catch a cab back to the city. Because this?” I sweep out my other hand, taking in the house, Hart Falls, the whole of fucking Cinderhart. “I’m done with this place.” I point again. “And I’m done with you, you fucking snake.”

He lurches forward, a snarl on his face. I’m so shocked, all I can manage is a gasp as the glass drops from my suddenly nerveless fingers. It shatters on the floor between us, and he freezes to the spot like the crash drove every last bit of anger from him.

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