Page 73 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
He’d expected a small package, not the huge box sitting on the floor beside the bed. It had to be four feet square. What was it? Some kind of furniture? He’d quietly started looking for a builder to renovate his nana’s house with a view to spending more time in Abundance now that he’d pulled the plug on his career, but he hadn’t broadcast the move. Had Kitty mentioned his plans to Phae?
He tore off the paper to reveal plain cardboard. Huh. If it was something that needed assembly, he could build it with Huck. Huck loved puzzles. Marc only hoped whatever was inside the box hadn’t been damaged, because there were holes in the side and they didn’t look as if they were supposed to be there.
The lid was sealed, and he picked at the tape with his fingernails, wishing he’d taken a leaf out of Phae’s book and brought a knife with him. One nail broke, then the tape peeled off in one long strip and he pulled the lid open.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
A strangled sound burst from his throat—a sob? A gasp?—and he desperately reached for Phae’s arm, searching for a pulse. Phae was in the box. Phae was in the fucking box. He almost wept with relief when he felt her heart beating strongly, and he paused to study her. She was sleeping peacefully, totally unaware of her surroundings, curled up in a pretty jade-green dress that matched her eyes. Then he spotted the plastic bag duct-taped to her thigh and tore it free. A note fluttered toward the floor, and he grabbed it.
Happy Thanksgiving!
She’s going to be pissed, but not at you. Try to convince her not to kill us, okay?
The Choir
P.S. Press the autoinjector against her thigh and then stand back. She isn’t armed, but you don’t want to be within punching distance when she wakes up.
P.P.S. She gets Depo shots, and she doesn’t have any communicable diseases.
Marc tore his hands through his hair. The Choir? Was that her team? Those lunatics. Those utter lunatics. How was he meant to explain this to Phae? To Kitty?
He paced the room, glancing back at the box every few seconds. There were no “return to sender” instructions, no way to turn back the clock and pretend this never happened. He couldn’t just leave Phae in there. He’d have to wake her. But what was in that syringe? Was it safe? Should he call an ambulance?
If he called an ambulance, Phae would quickly become the number-one subject on the Abundance gossip tree, HIPAA be damned. Too many people from town worked in the hospital. And being the centre of attention was the last thing Phae would want.
The Choir might be a bunch of psychos, but they weren’t fools. They’d never put Phae’s life at risk. Their own, possibly, because she sure wouldn’t be happy about this turn of events, but not hers.
Finally, he decided to follow the instructions. One of her so-called friends had helpfully drawn an X on her thigh, and he positioned the autoinjector against it. Pressed hard until he felt the needle deploy. Hoped to fuck he’d done the right thing. Every second felt like a year as he knelt over the box, waiting, praying even though he wasn’t a believer. Her eyelids flickered, then…nothing. How long did the magic potion take to work? Marc pulled out his phone to check the time, and that was when the blur of Phae sprang out of the box and knocked him to the floor. Now it was his turn to see stars as her hands closed around his throat.
Then released just as quickly.
“Shit!” She shook her head, confused, still straddling him. “What the…?”
“Believe me, I’m as baffled as you are.”
“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m fine.”
More or less. Marc shook his head to clear it, and who cared if he had a mild concussion? Not him. Not when Phae was leaning over him like a succubus.
“How the fuck did I get here?” She glanced around the room, taking in the box and the autoinjector. “They gift-wrapped me? Those psychos gift-wrapped me? I’m gonna kill them. I swear, I’m gonna kill them all.”
“They said you might do that.”
“You spoke with them?”
“There was a note taped to your thigh.”
She spotted it on the floor and snatched it up. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe they took my weapons.”
“I’m glad they did, even if I have suddenly become pro-murder in the last few minutes.” Marc rubbed the bump on his head. “I can’t believe they did this.”
“Me neither.” A pause. “No, actually I can. This is Jez’s payback for me doing the same to her, although in my defence, I didn’t act alone and she remained conscious the entire time.”
“So how was it the same?”
