Page 53 of Magpie
I am not Irina. I will not doom another just to gain freedom.
She snaps her mouth shut, her eyes wide, but I don’t wait around to see if she will listen to me. Instead, I turn, gripping my backpack tight, and begin to trudge up the path leading to the House.
Patrons march alongside me, their excitement buzzing around me. I shut out the voice that tries to tell me to save each and every one of them, to scare them all into running back to their cars and away from this place. It would be useless, a waste of my time—time I do not have. I saved Margaux, or at least I tried to, but it will all be for nothing if I don’t endhim. So I set my jaw grimly, and continue.
A line snakes around the open field, leading to a broken-down barn, reminding me suddenly of the old farmhouse I walked into that fateful night. The hum of nervous anticipation swarms over the crowd. Peals of laughter and the occasional sharp scream erupt from the line.
Alister will be so pleased.
Cold resolve fueling me, I sidestep the line and make my way resolutely forward, not taking my eyes off the barn for a second. Like it is a predator that will strike me the moment I let my guard down. The people at the back of the line flash me angry looks, a few of them whispering loudly about cutting ahead. I ignore them all, one foot in front of the other as I focus only on continuing toward my doom.
Not matter how much I want to turn and run.
“Hey, bitch, the line starts back there. Wait your turn like everyone else,” a guy shouts at me, grabbing my arm.
I pause, doing nothing more than turning and looking at him. “I’ve waited long enough,” I say. My voice is low, but somehow still cuts through the chattering voices and sends everyone around me into a state of shocked silence. I have been without my key for several days, and even the assistance of the luna key cannot hide the decay that wafts off me, the deathly promise that oozes from my aura.
The man whispers a curse, dropping my arm and taking a step back from me.
“She must be one of the actors,” one of his friends says, pulling the startled man back into line as they hurriedly look away from me. Without a second glance at the field of souls that would fuel this house for another year, I continue forward.
I falter, just briefly, when I come to the wide double doors at the entrance to the barn. I study the structure. From the chipped red paint to the rotting wood, it looks like one gust of wind might knock the whole thing over.
But I know better.
It’s stronger than ever.
Every fiber of my body is screaming at me to turn away from this prison I fought so hard to break free from. If I take the last few steps and cross into its waiting arms, will I lose Maggie again? How long can I really hold off falling back into Magpie and the numbness she brings?
“No. Never again,” I whisper to no one but myself, chasing away the intrusive thoughts that try to stop me. I will not give him the satisfaction of fear. I will not add any more to his ever-growing flame.
For the first time, I turn to look at the doorman. A lump forms in my throat, tears threatening to spill down my face. Gone forever is the tall, skeletal man with the glowing red eyes. Instead, a woman dressed like a living doll sits on a chair by the door, rhythmically stabbing long, sharp needles into a doll that looks nearly identical to me.
I know that doll, just like I know the woman, Brianna. The doll will take on the semblance of whoever looks at it. Still, the sight of her stabbing a needle into its heart again and again does nothing to settle my nerves.
Brianna is one of Alister’s older creations, and she keeps mostly to herself when she isn’t performing. We may not have interacted in the House, but we recognize each other instantly. She gives me a wide, bright smile as the doors in front of me open. A gaping maw, waiting for easy prey.
“Welcome home, Magpie,” she says, her voice sounding far off in my ears.
The inside of the barn is a great cavernous shadow, and no matter how I try to peer through it, I can’t make out a single thing. A tendril of icy air drifts out from the void, coiling around me. It tugs and pulls at me, beckoning me inside.
I will not run from the dark. I follow.
Idon’t know how long I remain in the hallway, a motionless body on the floor. The ashes in the air, Sean’s ashes, have long since settled, and still, I don’t move.
I can’t.
If I move then I have to accept it, accept that he is gone. Accept that I will be forever locked away in this house, in this prison. I can’t get Sean’s voice out of my head, telling me to run, to get as far away as I can. I close my eyes tightly, pressing down the tears that threaten, pressing through the tightening in my throat.
I could stay here forever, a living statue embedded in the floorboards, but as the sorrow ebbs to a dull ache, I’m beginning to listen to that voice, the one that whispers about a life before. The voice that whispers aboutMaggie. As I listen, the first inkling of understanding about what has been taken from me takes root and starts to grow. Then,I begin to do something I haven’t truly done since waking in this house.
I begin tofeel.
And I feel fucking furious.
A white-hot fire is consuming me, and I shake with it. Clenching my hands into tight fists, I find the strength to sit up, find the strength todo something. Hatred sizzles off me like heat from the sun, and I am surprised I haven’t lit the floor on fire with the power of my rage.
I hear movement above me, bangs and crashes as Alister tears through his bedroom like a thunderstorm. His anger is palpable, but mine is a wildfire that will not be controlled.
