Page 57 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
It does not escape me he used Stein’s name instead of his biological relation to me, like people so often do.
“I warned your mother when she met him in college. I tried to tell her there was something dark inside of him, if not in so many words. I knew what his father did, the title he was passed down, the one he would never bequeath you, and truly, it is a mercy.Anyone within Writhe is cursed, Sullen. Do not forget it.”
I inhale. I do not breathe out.
Then I feel it. The fabric of my hood being pulled away from my hair. Air rushes against my ears.
Everything is so cold and harsh, like nails against my exposed spine, but I do not move and I couldn’t even say why.
He spoke of my mother.
No one ever speaks of Mercy Rule. She did not become a ghost when Stein killed her in front of me. She became nothing. Less than ash. I could not grieve or remember or miss her.
“I know why you wear this. I did try to stop it when you were much younger. I am sorry I could not have fought harder. This was my fate, but I have made my own friends here.”
I think of the sound of the serpent. I wonder if I have been wrong to hate them.
A hand comes to my shoulder.
I flinch at the touch, but it is light, and it does not hurt.
“The girl will be afraid,” the man continues, touching me in a way no one has since my mother’s death. “But she has looked for you too, you know?”
I squeeze my eyes tighter shut. Something builds behind them. A pressure I had grown numb to.
“Take care of her. She is used to getting what she wants, and that is good for you, becauseyouare it for her.”
The man moves his hand.
“Come. I will show you a quicker, quieter way.”
Chapter23
Karia
The sound of rain wakes me. But something else, too. A swaying, shifting motion. Cold drops along my temple, seeping into my hair. There is a bite of nausea in my belly, threatening to rise to my throat. Nothing is stationary and even with heavy, closed eyes, I am dizzy.
“Sullen?” The name leaves my dry lips, but I don’t know who it is or why I speak it.
There is a soft breath that could be acknowledgement or simply accidental.
My limbs feel as if they have fallen asleep, and when I attempt to wiggle my fingers—dangling by my side—sharp stars dart in my veins; that painful, sandy feeling of one’s body coming back to life.
I feel my eyes fluttering behind my lids, two orbs roaming under skin, but it takes long moments before I can open them, lashes thick with the sticky sensation of sleep.
Darkness lined with a strange glow greets me.
I hear something that sounds like tires on asphalt.
A mechanical voice stating, “Walk. Walk. Walk,” in a way that is familiar yet far away.
I can’t grasp the meaning.
And as my body is jostled and my temple dampened with cold water, I blink once more and underneath the glow of red lights, I see brown eyes staring back at me.
“Don’t scream,” Sullen Rule’s croaky voice says in a low tone. “We’re at a crosswalk in the city. If you scream, they’ll find us.” He keeps walking, glancing up once from beneath long, velvet-black lashes before he looks at me again. The red light and the robotic voice fades away, and all I hear is him say, “And I’m not ready for them to take you from me yet.”
Everything sways in gray darkness for me, and I close my eyes and simply enjoy this fantastical dream.
