Page 83 of Our Lips Are Sealed
A few feet from the fence, she faced the empty stretch of woods leading to the mill, and since she couldn’t move, the eruption of chaos behind her went unseen. There were shouts and crying. Someone was calling her name.
But she ignored the noise of the graveyard, staring off at the movement making its way through the brush. A flash of white, scampering among the trees on all fours.
It was the girl. The one haunting her these past few weeks. Lying there, half in and out of consciousness, Evie could remember it all. The conservatory. The dream with her mother. The pub across from her work. The girl’s appearance today in the diner parking lot wasn’t the first time she had visited, bringing with her a warning Evie never listened to, because who would listen to their own insane imagination.
He loves you. He loathes you. He craves you. He hates you.
You can’t win without me.
I want to come home.
Haven is mine as much as it is yours.
CeCe.
Coming to the fence, the girl’s ghastly pale face filled with unhinged delight at hearing her name, even though Evie wasn’t sure she’d spoken it out loud.
Yes, it’s me.
CeCe crawled over to the spot where Evie lay, wrapping her elongated fingers around the posts to stick her head through the black bars. Her features contorted grotesquely as she forced herself to fit.
It’s time to play.
Somehow, through the clamoring, cyclonic haze descending on the graveyard with CeCe’s arrival, Evie heard Samuel continuing to shout her name. She opened her mouth to answer, but CeCe shook her head, placing a finger to her blistered lips.
Don’t make a sound.
CeCe’s mouth formed words as she spoke, but the movement didn’t quite sync with the serrated voice in Evie’s head.
Use this one.
Nodding at a canvas bag close by, CeCe’s matted chestnut hair tickled Evie’s arm. She laid a sharpened black fingernail on the handle of a large knife protruding through the zipper.
Yes, this one will do nicely.
The paralysis in Evie’s limbs lessened to a degree, and she hesitantly reached into the bag, resting her hand on the weapon. It was small, and didn’t seem like it would do much damage.
It’ll work, Queen Evie.
The statement came from a second voice, this one sweet and familiar, caressing Evie’s mind like a warm hug. Rolling her eyes in the direction from where it came, she saw Livy seated atop a gravestone, her blond curls bouncing as she swung her legs back and forth.
Listen to CeCe. She knows what’s best.
Evie’s gaze flashed back to CeCe at the fence, their faces inches apart now.
I know best because I’m a CeCe, too.
Evie blinked rapidly, trying to make them both disappear, yet they remained, laughing at her efforts. She’d hit her head too hard. That was the only explanation for all of this.
CeCe touched her arm, and a tingling sensation flooded Evie. Able to move more, she pressed her fingers into the bump on her forehead. The knot there throbbed, but also gave a sense of relief, confirming that what she was seeing was nothing more than hallucinations from the fall.
And apparently, there were more to come.
An ominous shadow pulsed through the trees behind CeCe, floating closer with a heartbeat of red at its center. The thing flickered gradually into focus, forming into a woman Evie only saw in her nightmares.
Rebecca’s once beautiful features, now forever disfigured in her disgrace, crumpled further in agony as she wafted into the graveyard. She listened to her son’s rambling, tears of blood pooling in her eyes.
I am so sorry.
