“You want true?” he whispered, leaning in close to my ear, his breath making me shiver. “Then hear this. I’m going with you. I’ll wait in the back. I’ll hide in a fucking closet if that’s what it takes. But if it looks like Clarence is going to get the best of you, then I’m coming in and I’m taking him out. And that, Lily, is the truth.”
His hand dropped down to cover mine, which was over my still-sheathed knife. “You didn’t draw your weapon, Lily,” he said. “I’d say you have some faith left in you.”
I drew in a breath, long and deep, determined to regain a sense of control. “You can come,” I said, knowing that I was conceding this round. “But we take Rose, too.”
“Risky,” he said. “She’s your Achilles’ heel, and Clarence knows that better than anyone.”
I looked toward the bed, toward my little sister, curled up, broken and battered. Her once-dewy skin was sallow, and dark bags hung beneath her closed eyes. Her blond hair was dark with oil and stringy from not having been combed or washed. She looked like a street urchin instead of a princess, and I wanted the princess back. She deserved it, and I was determined to make it happen.
“She comes,” I repeated, “but we make sure he doesn’t realize she’s there. I’m not leaving her alone.”
He cut a glance across the room to the bed, then moved toward her and slid an arm under her back and another under her knees.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying her.”
“Now? We’re going now?”
“You have a better idea?”
I shook my head. He was right, of course. The time for hiding in dark rooms was over.
From his arms, I heard a small mewling sound.
“Rose?” My throat was thick, my voice barely functioning.
Deacon turned, shifting her body toward me. Even despite those damned glasses, I could feel his eyes on me, watching me, gauging my reaction.
I moved closer, unable to speak from the hope that was filling my chest and my throat.
“Lily?” Her voice was weak. “Lily, what happened?” Her eyes fluttered open, her features slack but aware, and I drew in a breath, realizing the tightness in my chest was because I’d stopped breathing.
“Rose. Thank God.” She was okay. She was Rose. Whatever he’d done to her, she’d fought it off. It hadn’t stuck. This was my baby sister, and she was going to be just fine.
Two seconds later, she proved me a liar.
“Lily,” she said, her voice sharp and panicked. “Lily, what’s happening?”
“Deacon!” I cried, because I didn’t know. Rose’s body was convulsing in his arms, her eyes rolling back in her head until only the whites remained. I screamed her name, screamed at Deacon to do something. And then I slammed my mouth shut in horror when I heard her speak again.
“Sweet Lily,” my sister said, in a voice not her own. “I’m fucking your sister. Again.”
THREE
I recoiled in horror from the vile words. And Deacon, who I’d never seen rattled, tossed her forward, dropping her on the bed even as he stepped sideways, his body moving between the bed and me.
“This time, I’m filling her up, from the inside out.” I knew that tone. That sound. That lazy cadence.
I knew him, and the urge to eviscerate the beast inside Rose nearly overpowered my reason.
Lucas Johnson. He was right there, deep inside the person I loved most in all the world.
“Get out!” I screamed. “Get the hell out of my sister!”
Without thinking, I leaped toward the bed, then kicked and flailed as Deacon grabbed me around the waist and held me back. “It’s still Rose,” he said, his voice icy calm. “Hurt him, hurt your sister.”
On the bed, my sister’s body shifted, sitting up on her knees, then tossing her head back and breathing deep. Her breasts rose beneath the sacrificial silk gown they’d put her in, nipples straining against the material. I watched, revolted and helpless, as the demon inside her forced her hand to slide down, over her breast, then down farther until he cupped her crotch. “Pretty, pretty,” he said. “And so soft and sweet. I bet she’s all wet inside. What do you think, Lily? Is your sister wet for me?”
I hacked back a wad of phlegm and let it fly, hitting him—hitting Rose—square on the face.
The hand on her crotch lifted, and he used the back of Rose’s hand to wipe away the spitball. “Now, Sugar-lips,” he said, “is that any way to treat your kith and kin? We’re close now, you and me. Real close.”
“Get out of her,” I said again, slowly and carefully. “Get out of her right now, or I swear I will end you.”