Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Epilogue
Biba
The knocking woke us up far too early. It was loud, rapid, and insistent. Someone needed to talk to Zephyr immediately.
Hungover and annoyed, he rose from the bed and didn’t bother to cover himself as he stumbled to the door. I hurriedly pulled the duvet over myself as he flung open the door.
“What the hell?” he barked.
“Oh, wow,” came a flustered Southern drawl on the other side. Buffy shielded her eyes from Zephyr’s dangling tackle, “I gotta talk to Biba. She in here?”
“What’s this about?”
“It’s important. It’s … well, I gotta talk to her.”
While Zephyr decided how specifically to tell Buffy to go to hell, I discreetly got out of bed and located my underwear. I pulled on one of Zephyr’s sweatshirts, which hung to mid-thigh on me. My shame mostly covered, I nudged my bare-ass man back into the room and shut the door behind me.
“What’s up, Buffy?” I asked, wiping some sleep from my eye.
“I been lookin’ all over for you, Biba. You need to come right now. It’s Gail.”
Buffy didn’t have to say anymore. Her eyes were darting back and forth, spastic with panic and dread. Something awful had happened. My stomach twisted in half, and my mouth went dry.
I dashed down the corridor at full speed. I needn’t have rushed. The worst had already happened.
Three police were slicing through the belt that connected Gail Monfort’s snapped neck to the crossbeam above an apparently toppled chair. Her roommate Diane had left the prior day, right after exams. She was to have the room to herself.
Immediately, I could tell that this wasn’t a suicide. There were bruises on Gail’s forearms that weren’t there the day before. She was wearing way too much concealer. Gail hated makeup. Without a doubt, there were more bruises on her face underneath that coverup.
The leather belt snapped, and Gail’s lifeless body dropped into an officer’s arms like a sack of potatoes. Her eyes bulged from their sockets. Someone had beaten and murdered the diminutive, sweet girl from Cornwall who I had watched arrive at Stormcloud on a frigid winter night. She was wearing the red and brown patterned dress we had bought together.
I felt bile rising in my throat. Pushing past the police, I fled to Gail’s en suite bath and dry-heaved over the sink.
I’d done it again. I’d neglected to take care of the best friend I had at school. This time the consequences were beyond dire. They were tragic and irrevocable.
“Miss Quinn,” came a voice from outside the bathroom.
“I need a minute, please,” I sobbed.
“Open the door immediately.”
That clipped, authoritative voice was unmistakable. It was Miss Amelia. I wiped my nose and eyes and opened up. She entered quickly, then promptly shut the door behind her.
“I don’t want to talk, ma’am. I’m leaving this school and never coming back.”
“You will do no such thing.”
“With all due respect, Amelia, go fuck yourself. I’m done with this place.”
“You’re a very clever girl. I have been aware of your investigations. You and the dearly departed Miss Monfort. What a shame.”
“What do you know about it? I know you’re involved in all the treacherous shit that happens here.”
“There’s no greater fool than a girl with half the information. If you stick around a bit longer, you might discover the truth. I should like that very much.”
I gawked at the slender, age-bitten woman before me. Suddenly, I realized that once upon a time, she might have been like me. She was asking me to fix something that she couldn’t fix when she was a student.
“If I stay, will you help me?”
“I’ve helped you since the moment you arrived, Biba. I won’t stop now.”
As I emerged from the bathroom, I had reconciled the idea of staying at Stormcloud through the summer. If Miss Amelia had faith in me, I knew I could find out who was killing everyone close to me. Who had tried to kill me, too.
The police had laid Gail on a bed and covered her with a sheet. Through the open door, I saw Zephyr was standing, waiting for me, in a track jacket and jeans. I stared into his dark, unreadable eyes, and he stared right back.
Maybe he thought he was comforting me with that stare, but all I saw was a repository of damnable secrets. I couldn’t shake the idea that he, or one of the other Kings, might be behind Gail’s murder.
Zephyr reached out his hand, beckoning me to his side.
End of Book One.