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“I just hope she’s cleaned up and ready to go.”

“She was barely moving,” I say, but something feels wrong. My stomach’s a knot. Not guilt–just instinct.

We climb the porch and I push open the door. The bed is stripped. Her wedding dress is gone. The air is heavy, warm and humid with sweat and sex and blood.

“Jesus Christ.”

I turn and see DK staring at the wall. Well, not just the wall.

There’s writing–everywhere.

Smeared and dripping. Thin, frenzied strokes, off the tip of a finger.

Horns and hooves. He breathes inside my head.

Monsters. Blue eyed. Devil’s hair. Shiny silver.

Shhhh. He’ll hear you.

I’m not her. I’m not her. I’m not her.

The Beast is hungry. He’ll eat the pretty girls first.

“What the fuck…” DK steps forward, turning in a slow circle. A piece of a broken teapot sits on the dresser, the sharp tip coated in red.

The letters are smeared in places like she tried to scrub them out–or clawed at them. Some of the prints are small and bloody. Her hands must have been shaking. There’s a streak leading to the door. A trail.

I step forward and swing the door shut. The back is covered, in one word, repeated over and over.

runrunrunrunRUNrunrunrunRUnRunrunrunrunrUn

runrunrunrunRUNrunrunrunRUnrunrunrunrunRUN

RunrunrunRUnRunrunrunrunrUnRunrunruNrunrUn

And at the bottom,in bold.

BURN. IT. DOWN.

“She’s fucking lost it,”he says, jaw tight. “She’s gonna hurt herself. Or someone else.”

“No,” I say, already thinking, moving. “At least not yet.”

She’s done it twice before. Once by the river. Then in the Hunt. When Arianette feels trapped the first thing she does is figure out a way to run away. I turn, eyes searching, then kneel beside the bed and reach under, grabbing the scrap of lace I’d seen earlier in the day–her panties. The bloodstain from the night before is dry, but it’ll do.

Ares perks up as I hold them out.

“Such,” I whisper, pressing them to his nose.

He sniffs, wanders around the room, then bolts for the door.

“She’ll head for cover,” I say, following fast. “Somewhere we don’t know about.”

“We should have put her back in the cage.” DK jogs to keep up. “The King is going to fucking flip.”

After seeing the rod and the wounds on Arianette’s back, I’m not eager to see what punishment he would dole out on us for running her off. Which is why I mutter, mostly to myself, “Not if we find her first.”

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