Page 75 of A Dream of Stars and Curses

‘Fuck!’

Everything around me grows woozy. I was so close to getting out. What if there is no other door? What if there are several but they are all locked? I’m using so much energy and leaving a handy trail of blood drips all over Chiara’s house, and it could all be for nothing. For all I know, this is part of her game—a bit of hope, right before I never see sunlight again.

Something tickles my neck. A breeze. I whirl around and try to figure out where it’s coming from. I don’t think I saw any open windows in the rooms I’ve already been in, so that must mean it’s in the other direction. I hurry away from the front door and try to follow the breeze, but it’s intermittent.

Find me, I silently beg it. Guide me out of here.

There it is again, and it’s getting stronger. I follow it through a dining room—there’s a table, some chairs, and cabinets full of wine bottles that I imagine are full of blood—and into an adjacent room. It’s an open floor plan with only a handful of doors closed, so I can zap around fairly easily.

I know it’s stupid—my speciality lately—but I hesitate when it occurs to me how unlike Chiara this house seems. Not that I really know her or like I’ve spent a lot of time visualising Chiara’s dream home, but something about this just doesn’t feel like it’s hers. Everything is so... bright. The floors are a light wood, the walls have this odd dark-red wallpaper with gold highlights which does not go with the floors, and the ceiling above the dining room is reflective. Not a mirror, exactly, but I can see my blurry reflection above me as I hurry through the house. I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel like it would be her style.

But then I see the family photos on the wall. None of them have her in them. The children get gradually older, so I can only hope they’d moved out by the time Chiara, what, stole this place? I bet she saw killing the owners as free and easy blood. But why? Did she do this on the off-chance that she might kidnap me one day? I can’t exactly ask her. This whole situation is so baffling to me, I kind of don’t want to know. I just want to get out of here and whatever fucked-up thing she’s created for herself.

I’m so relieved there’s no one else here. I barely escaped Chiara; I can’t imagine having to fight off anyone else.

I turn my head towards the breeze to my right and see it: wide-open double doors, leading into a garden.

I hear something from downstairs, but I’m not sure what. Like someone’s shuffling something? The angry scream that follows is easier to understand. I pale and freeze on the spot.

‘Not the time, Esta! Run!’

Mischief’s panicked voice knocks the fear out of me—or rather, it sets it aside and gives me an adrenaline burst.

I run for the open doors, not turning around once, and then I’m outside. My eyes water when I feel the wind brush around me like it’s urging me onwards, like it’s as relieved to see me as I am to feel it. I take a sharp right away from the doors and windows, and throw myself towards the bushes along the high walls surrounding the property. Out here, my blood trail isn’t as obvious, but I doubt Chiara needs visual clues to find me. I’m effectively leaving little scent markers for her to follow.

I feel safer hidden in the bushes, so I stick to their cover and follow them along the wall. I don’t know what I’ll do if the front gate is locked, too. I’ve never been a good climber—not that I’ve had many opportunities to try—and I’ve never had great upper-arm strength. Now that the blood loss and pain is leaving me weaker still, I’m not sure there’s enough adrenaline in the world to push me over tall gates.

But I’ve made it this far. Just a bit farther.

I don’t dare turn around. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway. Chances are, Chiara is following me in fog-form. I could be watching the doors while she’s closing in on me without me realising it, and besides, keeping an eye on those doors won’t get me out of here.

From somewhere to my left, I hear a metallic rattle. The front gates are opening.

I crawl through the shrubs as fast as I can. Did Chiara invite friends over? Whoever this is, the gates were closed, and they’ll likely shut again once whoever’s arriving is on the property. If I’m going to get out, this is my only shot.

I follow the row of bushes as close to the gates as I dare. I brace myself. Once the car is through, I will run for it.

But no car appears.

I hold my breath, waiting for someone to show, but nothing happens. So I decide to take my chances.

I run for it.

Turn the corner and bump into someone.

My heart misses a beat. It’s Chiara. She didn’t follow me out the back doors, she opened this gate and then waited behind it and I fell right into her trap.

I scream and shove myself away. Arms close around me. I try to wriggle free, but it’s no use.

‘Ssh, Esta. Look at me. It’s me.’

My heart in my throat, my eyes fly up before I can make the conscious decision to do so. My heart is still racing from my escape, but the voice slowly calms it down. It’s uncomfortable to feel so much at once.

The arms around me aren’t Chiara’s, they are Kate’s. She’s here. She came for me.

A sob escapes me as I fall into Kate’s hug. I hate that I fall apart the moment I see a friendly face, but it’s all the relief I didn’t dare hope for. It’s over. I thought I was going to die, but I’m alive. I think I’m allowed a few messy tears.

‘It’s alright,’ Kate coos. She turns her head away from me and shouts, ‘Leverett! She’s here!’

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