Page 36 of Dead Love
“She can’t have phones,” I said. “No internet.Nothing.If her mother finds her, she’ll make up a story to keep Kora locked in a cage, and we can’t have that.”
Catie bowed her head. I had found Catie camping out in one of the mausoleums before I hired her. She knew that life didn’t always make sense, but she trusted me.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said.
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow.”
Catie and I discussed work matters while the dogs stood near us. And as soon as the time came, I quickly pushed her out the front door. After she walked away, I grabbed the key from under the mat, put it in my pocket, then locked the door and leaned against the wall. The dogs heard a bird outside and went to chase it in the backyard. I stared at the dog door. I had Kora; what did I do now? If I was supposed to ruin her beyond repair, the end result of killing her and making her into literal art to give to her parents, then what was the next step?
I squeezed my hand closed as tight as I could, watching the green and red veins flush on my arms. Perhaps checking on her once more would inspire me.
I unlocked the basement’s door, then descended the stairs. This time, Kora was lying across the couch. The scooped neck sweatshirt exposed the dainty dips of her collarbones, so breakable, and yet, strong too. Her hair was tucked into a small messy bun, the new blunt ends choppy, and though tears wet the strands of hair near her face and her bloodshot eyes were glossy, she seemed lighter then, like the hair wasn’t holding her back anymore. Was she finally letting go?
She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears, her lips trembling. She was vulnerable, and still, there was so much she didn’t know. So much that she needed to understand before I could finally destroy her. A gnawing sensation wrenched in my stomach, surging to my cock, then back up to my brain. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I want to brush away her tears? I should have wanted to taste them instead.
She finally looked at me, but before she could speak, I swiftly ascended the stairs, locking the door behind me, then went to my studio. The overhead lights were dimmer than I preferred, but it seemed fitting then.
Using my fingers, I dipped into the oil and bone fragment paint, using harsh smudges to draw her outline—the arch of her neck and clavicle, the puffiness to her cheeks, swollen eyelids, the desperate curve of her mouth. With my thumb, I shadowed across her eyes, rendering them as haunting as she made me feel. Like she saw the evil that lurked inside of me, the monster that couldn’t be contained anymore. And yet, she wouldn’t look away. Like she knew there was darkness inside of her too. The parts of ourselves that we never showed anyone, but each other.
CHAPTER13
Kora
I hadno idea what time of day it was, but since Vincent delivered food at regular intervals, and another one had passed. A knock sounded on the door upstairs, like a gentle tapping of a bird’s feet on a branch. I stiffened; since when did Vincent knock?
A few seconds later, the door opened and closed. Then Vincent came down the stairs, treading softly this time.
“A friend of mine wants to visit with you,” he said.A friend?I was starting to believe he didn’t have any. “I told her that I helped you escape from your sheltered life.”
Sarcastic laughter bubbled up inside of me. I smacked my hand against my mouth. Vincent gave me a strange look.
“You’re serious?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” His gaze darkened. “Your mother never let you free. Ididrescue you from her.”
And from the expression in his eyes, I knew he believed those words.
“I figure it’s good for you to have some company,” he added.
“How thoughtful of you,” I mumbled.
Vincent snatched my chin. “If you tell her differently, I will make sure your mother dies the next time I start a fire,” he said. He stared into my soul. “And that’s a promise.”
He let go of his grip, a chill settling across the room.
“Can I count on you, Kora?”
It made me flinch to hear my real name on his lips. “Yes,” I mumbled.
He grabbed my chin again, pinching it tightly. “What was that?”
“Yes, Vincent,” I said, louder this time.
He stood, straightening his clothes, then walked up the stairs. A few minutes later, the points of stilettos clicked on the carpeted loft, then rang against the metal staircase.
“I didn’t know they still made staircases like this,” she said. I recognized her voice. My eyes widened.
