Page 158 of Dukes of Peril

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

The sound is faint, like it’s on the other side of a wall. I push my hand out and feel the hard surface. My feet meet a similar block. My back seizes, achy and bent, and in the inky darkness, I know I’m trapped. It’s too far away to grasp, but Nick told me something once about a box being a frame of mind. Right now, my limbs are frozen, my brain running haywire.

“I have a secret.”

Blinking, I suddenly see Leticia. Her shiny blonde hair. Her mean, coy smile. I realize the dark isn’t the chest, but instead the oppressive darkness of an overcast night. We’re on that cliff again, but even though I’m not in a box, I still can’t move–can’t scream.

My sister’s not alone. Her hand is intertwined with another, as the girl I recognize as Tate is beside her. She grins back with her black hair and almond-shaped eyes, but says nothing. The side of her head is shiny with blood and clumped matter. Slowly, I remember that I don’t even know what her voice sounded like.

And every day that passes, I’m starting to forget Leticia’s.

“I don’t have time for your games,” I try to tell her, my own voice seeming slow and garbled. “I have to kill him.”

Him. Lionel. Did she ever love him, I wonder? All the attention and favoritism… did it ever endear her to him? Or did she spend our childhood trapped in a different sort of box, always pretending, surviving?

My eyes zero in on her lips, forming around the words she speaks. “I gave you what you need. Are you really going to waste it?”

I try to reach for her, but I just can’t break through the barrier. “What? What do I need?”

“Leverage,” she says, her face transforming. Before my eyes, her skin melts away, leaving nothing but teeth and bones. “You better hurry,” she whispers, her fingers blowing away into dust. “Tick, tick, tick—”

My eyes pop open, prepared for the pitch black of the chest. Instead, light comes through the tall window nestled in the tower wall. I’d exhale but my lungs are paralyzed like the rest of my body.

The clock is ticking, Duchess, tick-tock.

Tick, tick, tick…

“Hey. Vinny.” Remy’s face comes into view, his hand stroking a warm caress down my arm. I realize I’m curled into his chest, Nick’s arm slung around my waist from behind. “Come back to me, baby.” Remy catches my lifeless hand, pressing my fingers to the crescent tattooed on his hip.

The touch–the memory–draws me from the cobwebby dream, warming my frozen veins. I blink and then swallow, my voice rusty. “I-I’m okay.”

“I felt the goldenrod,” he rumbles, and from the slouch of his eyelids, he hasn’t been awake very long, either. “What did you see?”

I instantly shake my head. “Nothing.” I doubt he wants to hear about his friend appearing in my dream, her brains all exploded from her temple. “Go back to sleep.”

Climbing over Nick, I sling my legs over the edge of the bed, stretching my toes, trying to regain feeling. Rousing a little more, Remy’s green eyes track me as I look back at Sy’s bed. We ended up here after showering and late-night grilled cheese, and I feel warmth bloom in my chest at the sight of them. Sy and Nick are sprawled out, both asleep, still naked. I stretch my hands over my head as I observe them, letting my spine loosen.

Remy makes an unhappy noise when I step into a pair of panties, grabbing a hoodie off the back of Sy’s desk, but he rolls over and closes his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve dreamed of Leticia since Sy and I buried her skull, putting her to rest. She doesn’t feel restful now, rustling around in my head like gossamer.

The living room is chilly when I step out, but the air cooling my skin is a welcome sensation. It’s not long before Archie finds me, winding around my ankles.

“Hey, buddy,” I whisper, bending to scoop him up. He’s getting so much bigger now, his legs lankier, ears pointier. He hasn’t lost any of his softness though, and I press my face into his fur, letting the low vibration of his purr soothe me. He indulges the snuggle only briefly before squirming out of my arms and bolting off.

The tower feels stuffy, or maybe my lungs are still frozen from my dream. I climb the spiral stairs to my loft, and it’s cast in a blue-ish glow, the early morning light filtered through the clock face. Those maddening hands are, as always, eternally frozen.

7:32.

Tick-tock.

I climb higher, going straight to the staircase that leads to the belfry. Stopping in the area that holds the mechanics, I look around me. On the floor, the remaining pieces of the dismantled inner workings are laid out just like I left them. I haven’t touched it in weeks–not since Sy and I got the two levers to work. I’ve been too frustrated with it, and anyway, my Dukes are keeping me busy both in and out of the bed.

The clock is ticking, Duchess, tick-tock.

My father’s voice rings in the half of my brain that’s still caught in the web of my dream, and I keep moving, climbing the ladder to the belfry. As soon as I emerge from the hatch, my breath comes a little easier. The sun is rising from the east when I look out the archway, casting the Princes’ territory in a pinkish glow.

For so long, I hated this town. All I wanted was to run as far away as possible. Leticia tried to run, and look what it got her. I was trapped, held captive, turned into a prize, and look wherethatgot me. I touch my neck, knowing the permanent marker is still there.

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