Page 29

Rafferty

J esus fucking Christ. What the hell is she doing?

I race across the beach, staring up at her as she teeters right on the very edge.

She looks possessed. She looks completely insane.

“Scarlett!” I holler, scrambling up the rocks.

Either she can’t hear me above the howl of the wind, or she’s so out of it that she’s beyond reacting.

Bits of dirt stick under my nails, my hands slip on the slimy substance covering the boulders.

If she falls from that height, she’ll break her damned neck.

“Scarlett!” I yell louder, and again, she doesn’t respond.

I haul myself up the last bit of the cliff, feeling how my t-shirt catches on the edge and tears. Once I’m at the top, the wind that was howling before becomes even more ferocious.

The waves smash into the shoreline. On the horizon I can see that flickering amber of a distant lighthouse.

Sea spray drenches my skin, soaking my tattered clothes and making them stick to me.

Scarlett is dancing, pirouetting, spinning, arms spread wide, the fabric of her clothes whipping around her legs like ghost-white wings.

She’s singing some tune I don’t recognize, her voice eerily childlike. It’s wrong. Everything about this is wrong. Her movements are too loose, too uncoordinated. She’s clearly high as a fucking kite. What the fuck has Alexander given her?

I’m getting closer, but I’m not fast enough.

The fading sunlight catches on her wet nightdress, making the thin fabric all but transparent.

She’s soaked through. The wet material clings to every curve of her body, and in any other situation, I’d look my fill, but right now, all I can focus on is how close her bare feet are to the cliff’s edge.

“The stars are waking up.” she calls out, twirling faster. “They’re dancing with me, Rafe. Can’t you see them?”

There are no stars yet, just the dying sun and the growing shadows that threaten to swallow her whole.

Ten feet away. Eight. Six.

She teeters backward, and my heart lodges in my throat. I lunge forward, catching her just as her feet leave the ground. She falls into my arms with a giggle, her skin shockingly ice-cold against mine.

“Dance with me,” she murmurs, trying to pull me toward the cliff’s edge.

Her pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the rich brown of her irises. “The colours need us to dance.”

“No more dancing,” I say, tightening my grip as she writhes in my arms. Her wet hair plasters against my chest, leaving dark stains on my t-shirt. “We’re getting you inside.”

“But the starlight,” she protests, reaching toward the sky with desperate fingers. “It’s calling me. Can’t you hear it singing?”

Her body arches like a bow, trying to escape my hold. “Please, I need it. I need the colours.”

I adjust my grip, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back.

She’s lighter than she should be, and the realization sends a fresh wave of anger through me.

I knew Alexander was abusing her, but it’s never been more evident than in this moment.

“The only thing you need is to get warm and to come to your senses.”

She turns her face into my neck, and I feel her lips move against my skin. “You don’t understand. They’re waiting for me. They promised to show me everything.” Her words slur together, a jumbled mess of consonants and vowels that makes my stomach clench.

“Who promised, Scarlett?” I don’t know why I bother asking, it’s not like you can reason with crazy.

But she’s already distracted, her head lolling back to stare at the darkening sky. Her hand traces patterns in the air, following something only she can see. “So pretty,” she whispers. “All the colours dancing together. Like fire and ice and starlight and life.”

I start walking faster, my boots crunching on the rocky ground. She’s shivering now, her skin clammy where it touches mine. The wet nightdress is as good as useless, and I force myself to keep my eyes forward. She doesn’t need my gaze on her body right now as much as I’d enjoy it.

“No, no, no,” she suddenly thrashes in my arms, nearly making me lose my balance. “Take me back. I have to go back.” Her nails dig into my shoulders as she tries to twist free. “They said I could fly. They promised I could be with the stars!”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, tightening my hold. “Nobody’s flying tonight. Someone’s fucked with your head, sweetheart.”

She starts crying then. Soft, broken sobs that tear at something deep in my chest. “Please,” she begs, her fingers clutching at my shirt. “The colours are fading. I can’t lose them again. I can’t go back to the grey.”

The raw desperation in her voice makes me falter for a moment.

She sounds so lost, so broken. Even back in the woods, back when she was on her knees begging for my help, she didn’t sound this pitiful, this pathetic.

“Keep talking to me,” I say, trying to keep her focused as I navigate the darkening path back to the house. “What colours do you see?”

She presses her face against my chest, her words muffled but frantic. “Purple like bruised twilight. Gold like forgotten promises. Red like...” she trails off, her body tensing. “Red like blood on white marble tiles.”

That last part sends a chill down my spine. There’s something very specific in that image, something that feels less like a drug-induced hallucination and more like a memory.

“Scarlett?” I prompt when she goes quiet for too long.

Her only response is a soft humming, and it’s the same eerie tune from before. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my collarbone, but her movements are getting sluggish.

“Almost there,” I tell her, though I’m not sure she’s listening anymore. The mansion looms ahead, its windows glowing like warning beacons in the growing dark. “Just stay with me.”

She laughs, but it’s not the carefree sound from the cliff. This is hollow, haunted. “Everyone leaves in the end,” she murmurs in such a sad, desolate voice. “They all fade away like the colours.”

“Not this time,” I promise, even though I have no right to make such claims. “I’ve got you.”

Her hand finds my face, cold fingers tracing my jaw. “Your eyes are the colour of storms,” she whispers. “Dark and dangerous and full of so many secrets.”

I feel captive, held in her gaze as she stares at me. Is it her who’s possessed now, or me? I gulp back the lump in my throat, swallowing down all those words, all those thoughts, every moment where I’ve wanted to pull her back, pull her out of this nightmare. Pull her to safety. To me.

I can feel her body moving, her chest rising and falling. She’s quivering and I swear it’s from more than just the temperature.

“Scarlett,” Her name sounds forbidden, a curse on my lips. And it was. She was. I cursed her just as I cursed my entire family all those months ago. But now, now I would willingly fall on my sword, would cleave my chest open and rip my heart out, presenting it to her if that would make her smile.

Christ, I’m a fool. A stupid, stupid fool. I have no good reason to be feeling this. To be acknowledging this either. I’m not meant to be a participant in all this. I’m the outsider, the observer. I’m here simply for the end scene. The final moment. My presence right now isn’t even necessary.

She draws in another long breath, dragging those delicate fingertips down over my face, like she’s trying to commit my features to memory. “Are you going to destroy me too? Destroy me just like the rest of your family intend to?”

The question hits like a physical blow. Before I can respond, her hand drops, and her body goes limp in my arms. She’s finally passed out, her breathing deep and even against my chest. It’s probably for the best – she’s safer unconscious than she is awake around me.

There are too many secrets. Too many lies. I don’t even know which Scarlett I’m dealing with now. The compliant one. The drugged up, sacrificial lamb, or the real her. The real Scarlett.

Still, her last question echoes in my head like an accusation. Are you going to destroy me too?

“Fucking hell,” I mutter as she shivers violently in my arms. Her skin is like ice, lips taking on a bluish tinge that sets off every warning bell in my head.

I need to get her warm or she’ll die here despite what I’ve done.

But just as that thought forms, I see it, movement from the house.

Alexander comes rushing out, his face the usual look of anger he reserves just for me.

“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from her.” He snarls as he tears Scarlett from my arms with such force that she yelps, coming back around.

“Seriously? That’s your concern right now?” I growl back. “She was out on the cliffs, dancing like a mad woman. At any moment she could have fallen. She could have died.”

He shakes his head, tightening his grip around her fragile body, and I swear I can see where his fingers bury themselves in her limbs.

My eyes find hers, searching for some reaction, but her gaze is unfocused, and it’s clear she’s lost all awareness of her surroundings.

Maybe that’s for the best. Better she be out of it, than she opens her mouth and starts spilling everything.

“She wouldn’t have fallen.” He says dismissively, as if I’m an idiot imagining things.

I grab his shirt, yanking him back. “You’re drugging her too much. You could have killed her.”

He narrows his eyes, pulling away. “What do you care?” He replies. “Besides, in a few weeks this will all be over anyway.”

I stare after him as he turns on his heel, carrying her back into the house, and away from me.

I know I have no claims on her.

I know she’s technically his wife and all, but it still feels wrong to see her there, to know that she is his.

But we did have a plan.

Despite the state she’s in now, despite the fact she has no idea about it anymore, me and her, we made an agreement. As much as it turns my stomach, I have to stick to it. I have to do what is necessary, and I hope that Scarlett is strong enough to survive.