Maybe the answer was even simpler than I could have imagined. Maybe the power had never really gone away. Maybe it still lived in me, in my guts, in my bones. Maybe all I had to do was see it.
Yes. Daphne’s voice, solemn and proud, permeated my thoughts. You’ve finally perceived the truth. Behind all this. Behind Roza. Behind yourself. You’ve reached the end.
You’re done.
I pushed my laptop away.
“I’m done.” The words that came out were phlegmy and gruff.
“What’d she say?” Taylor asked faintly. Roza looked up from her phone.
I cleared my throat and turned to face them. “I’m done.”
Wren stopped typing and stared at me, her eyes huge and frightened.
“You wrote for five minutes.” Roza’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t be done.”
I snorted. The sound startled me but then I laughed again, exuberant. The power of my resistance filled me, sparkling like a billion twinkling stars.
“Thank you, Roza,” I said. “It took until now for me to understand.”
“Alex.” Wren’s voice was low, filled with panic.
“Did it, dear?” Roza slammed her phone down. In the candlelight, her face looked slightly haggard.
“Yes. In a really fucked-up way, I think you saved me.” My voice strengthened. “Before all of this, I was really just sleepwalking. I felt so numbed out. So unhappy. Hopeless.” I took a deep breath. “But being here… you made me remember that I have this ability, to create whole worlds inside me.”
“Um.” Taylor glanced at Roza. “Is she serious right now?”
“For so long I let other people make me feel like that wasn’t good enough,” I said. “That, in order to be a real writer, I had to get some agent or publisher to believe in me. Until then it would just be a delusion. But that’s bullshit. Because even if I never publish anything, I’m a writer.” I paused to take a breath. “I’m a writer, and no one can take that away from me.”
Roza just watched, one eyebrow raised.
“It’s a rush,” I went on. “And in some fucked-up way, I get it, Roza. You’ve gone to such great lengths to steal it from other people. But you’ll never have this power.”
She was smiling now.
“And so…” I stood and grabbed the back of the chair for support. Taylor jumped up but Roza put up a hand to stop her.
“I’m taking it with me. I’m done.” I scooped up the stack of papers, strode to the fireplace, and threw them in.
Wren cried out but I just watched them burn. Peace alighted in my chest, gentle as a moth, as the pages crumpled and blackened. I could feel Daphne’s ghostly presence beside me. She was beaming, as proud as a mother.
They could do whatever they wanted to my body, but they couldn’t have my story.
“Oh, Alex.” Roza rubbed her forehead. “You little fool. You didn’t really think that was the only copy, did you?” She sounded amused. “Such a heroic act, though. And a speech! I’m glad you got that, dear. You deserve to go out on a high note.” The mirth drained from her face as she turned to Taylor.
“Kill her.”
Chapter 41
“Really?” Taylor seemed startled.
“Yes, really.” Roza heaved a loud sigh. “I’ve given them too much leeway. I see that now. Anyway. Live and learn. Please take care of Alex. And then Wren will get to look at her best friend’s body and decide how she wants to proceed.”
“No!” Wren cried, her voice raw with anguish.
“Wait.” My heart whirred in my chest, but still Daphne was soothing me. Be calm. One last try. I pointed at my glass of wine. “Can I make a final request?”
Roza hesitated. She wanted it over and done with, but she also had that pesky sense of curiosity. “What, dear?”
“A toast.” Slowly, I reached out and picked up the glass. “To everything we’ve gone through together.”
“Seriously?” Taylor’s voice was shrill. “No fucking way.”
And that refusal, combined with Roza’s love for the dramatic, cemented it.
“What?” Roza asked crossly. “You have a busy schedule? Get me a glass. One for Wren too.”
“This is so, so ridiculous.” Taylor stuck the gun into her waistband. The three of us watched her pour the glasses at the buffet. She handed the first to Roza, set the second on Wren’s desk, and kept the third.
“Happy now, Al?” As if in defiance, Taylor plopped onto the couch and took a large gulp.
“To Alex.” Roza stood and raised her glass. “A truly talented young writer who has graced our world with her masterpiece. Well, most of it, anyway.” She raised it to her lips.
Robotically, Wren did the same.
“Wren, don’t,” I murmured softly as Taylor took another drink.
Wren paused but Roza heard me. “What’s going on?” She raised her glass and studied it. “Did you put something in this?”
“Wait, what?” Taylor’s eyes widened.
It was then that I noticed something—someone—creeping towards us. At first I thought it was a trick of the candlelight, but then the shadow solidified, an indistinct but tangible figure crouched low to the ground. It slunk closer, moving silently under the buffalo head.
I stared, stunned. Had I somehow called Daphne into being? Had my desperation brought her back to life?
Or had I accidentally inhaled some molecules from the wolfsbane earlier? Was I hallucinating like I had on Valentine’s Day?
Taylor jumped up, training the gun on me. “Al, what the fuck did you do?”
“Here.” Roza pulled something dripping from her glass. “It looks like…”
Taylor grabbed it. “Wolfsbane! But how did you…” She looked up, confounded. Daphne was getting closer, clutching something large and white. She was wearing a fur cloak and her hood covered her face.
I needed to distract them.
“Find this?” I reached into my sweater and pulled out the empty vial, wiggling it in the air. “Maybe you should keep dangerous substances locked up, T.”
“Oh, shit. People die from this, Alex!” Taylor dove to the ground, dropping the gun, and stuck her finger into her throat. She started to retch.
Daphne was right behind the couch. Candlelight gleamed off her eyes and bared teeth.
“My goodness.” Roza smirked. “Well, that was unexpected. Bravo, dear. But I do hope you know it’s nothing more than a small delay.”
Daphne slipped over the back of the couch and stood on the cushions, rearing up to her full height. She had battled Lamia and won, but it clearly hadn’t been easy. The fur cloak was matted and caked with blood. Her cracked lips pulled into a grim rictus as she raised the ceramic vase high.
The next second or two unfolded slowly, almost leisurely.
Roza started to turn just as Daphne jumped to the floor and brought the vase down on the crown of Taylor’s head.
There came a shattering, jarring crash. Taylor was briefly outlined in a halo of white shards as the force drove her face to the ground.
When time returned to normal, Taylor’s body lay prone. A spreading halo of red soaked into the rug.