Page 21 of Lost Girl

Tavi’s brow quirks, his mouth popping open to reply when his head nearly snaps off his neck, pivoting toward the stairwell. With widened eyes, he turns back to me and sets a finger to his lips, motioning for me to keep quiet as he scurries off into the darkness before me.

Where exactly, I don’t know. I’m more concerned about what he heard and the fact he’s down here. I’m not sure how vast this room is, but I can’t see him or anything else, so it must be deep.

Deeper than I’d imagined.

“I thought you’d offed yourself.” Tinksley chuckles as she hops off the last step, cutting my eyes away from Tavi’s hiding spot.

She probably thinks she’s real funny making light of my situation like that. Seriously,howthe hell would I kill myself while changed to the wall?

My heart thunders at the sight of her approaching form. Not so much in fear for myself, but again for Tavi. If she catches him, I have no doubts she’ll end him right in front of me, and I could do without seeing that gruesome performance. Between Clara, my father, granddad, and Peter, I’ve seen enough dead bodies to last a lifetime.

“W-what?” I stammer, struggling to keep my stare in line.

“Your screams, they stopped so abruptly I thought you’d offed yourself. That’s why I rushed down here.”

“Oh…No.” I shake my head. “My throat hurts, that’s all.”

Tinksley exhorts the smallest scoff as she inches closer, the diamonds encrusted in the bodice of her ebony lace dress reflecting all around like a disco ball. “Serves you right for screeching like a banshee while we’re trying to celebrate.”

“Can you blame me? You have me shackled to a wall. I’m all but bursting at the seams to relieve myself,” I retort.

The more time passes in which they just leave me down here, the more I find myself snapping back.

She’s unfazed by my tone, her face scrunching up dubiously. “Has Violet not come down to assist you with that?”

“Yes, with a bucket.” The bucket in the corner I’m currently pointing at.

Tinksley steals a peek at it, then flicks her stare back on me likeI’mthe crazy one. “So what’s the problem?”

“Are you serious? It’s a bucket!”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“It’s. A. Bucket,” I enunciate in outrage, “and I’m chained to the damned wall! Do I look like a—”

I’m cut off by her hand at my throat, my head hitting the stone wall behind me as she straddles me, keeping me in place.

An unnecessary show of brute force, if you ask me, considering I can’t get very far in my bindings as it is.

“If I were you, I’d watch your tone with me, Wendylocks. I may let you show your claws every now and then, ensure you’re fed and have somewhere to relieve yourself, but that doesn’t mean I won’t snap your bones in half one by one. Don’t. Test me.” Her lip curls in a sneer.

Has she always been like this?

“Why are you so mean?” Probably a stupid question, one that comes nearly choked around her grip, but it’s one I would’ve asked eventually.

“Mean? You thinkI’mmean?” She laughs almost cynically. “Honey, you haven’t seen a thing yet. And for the record, if your brother had deflowered you and allowed you to fall in love with him, you’d be a mean little bitch, too.”

Her admission nearly brings tears to my eyes. It’s not even an admission at this point. It’s the ugly truth, a reminder that Peter really is to blame here.

The monster she’s become is all Peter’s doing.

His fault.

And ironically enough, although I’m not an immortal myself nor was I related to him in any nature, I understand the anger she feels more than she’ll ever know.

I should be immersed in grief, out of my mind in another heart-shattering depression filled with PTSD after watching his violent demise, but I haven’t a shred of sadness to spare his vile soul.

It’s because of him that I’m here.

---