Page 50 of Nineteen Eighty

“I guess we’re done here.”

“Oh, no.” Angelique stormed across the room, robe flying. She was suddenly no longer pretty, but homely, like a pigeon. “You don’t get to walk away from this.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” Charles reached for the door.

“I’ll tell him. I’ll tell my husband, and then I’ll put out a goddamn ad in every paper in the state.”

“What do I care?” Charles retorted, but she had his attention. An affair was one thing… a child was another.

“You’ll care when my husband can’t control his rage. When he shows up to your beautiful home in Vacherie and looks in on your sweet, little—”

Charles didn’t remember putting his hands at her neck. He didn’t even remember crossing the room. Angelique clawed at his knuckles, scratching for breath. “You fucking dare come near my family and I’ll feed your son to the fucking gators, and not a damn person in this state, in this country, in this world will do shit about it. Not one, Angelique. Don’t think I’m serious? That’s further proof that you don’t know me at all. That you don’t know my history… what I’m capable of. But because I’m not a completely uncharitable monster, you’ll start getting monthly checks, enough money to change your life for the better, if you want it to. It’s your choice. But make no fucking mistake, woman, if you come after anyone bearing my blood, it will be the last thing you or anyone bearing yours ever does.”

Charles was shaking when he started the car.

He knew the checks wouldn’t be enough. Angelique’s pride was bigger than her greed.

Fontaine. The nameless husband.

Soren was supposed to be the last.

Yes, he was. But as long as the husband still walked the earth, providing for Angelique and her little brat, she’d still have a lifeline.

Charles had no choice but to sever it.

“This whole thing is honestly so strange,” Catherine said, pacing the parlor in her slippers. Neither she nor Colin had bothered to change into regular clothes before coming over, something Colleen noted with a sinking fear.

“I didn’t believe it at first,” Colin said.

“Oh, I still don’t know if I do!” Catherine said, with a hollow laugh.

“There’s no other explanation, though, is there? If it’s happening to both of us?”

“You’re the one who compared it to whatever the Deschanels can do, not me!”

“I have no other frame of reference, dear!”

“Doesn’t make it true, dear!”

“And how else would you explain an otherwise unremarkable couple having a shared hallucination? Huh?”

Colleen put her hands out. “Hey, now. It’s okay. Why don’t you both sit down and start from the beginning.”

“I’ll grab some water,” Noah offered, disappearing. She hoped he returned soon. She suspected she’d need him for whatever was about to happen.

Colin reached for his wife, but she ripped her robe away and sat down in a single chair, across from where he reluctantly sank into the loveseat.

“Something strange is happening with Oz,” Colin began.

“Nothing is wrong with our son!” Catherine screamed.

“Cat, please. The children are in bed,” Colleen said, though there was little risk of her histrionics carrying across the estate. But she didn’t want to hear it, either. When Catherine worked herself up like this, there was no telling where she might take herself.

“Mine should be, too, but no!”

“Catherine,” Colin cautioned, too weary to do much more. “Colleen, we came to you because we don’t know who else to go to.”

Noah returned with a tray of waters, passing them around. Catherine shoved hers away, nearly spilling it. Colin accepted his with a grateful, tight smile.

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