Page 41 of Sin of Love
Julep holds my hand as we walk from the solarium, our fingers intertwined like lovers’. His touch isn’t repulsive anymore, more like a tolerated irritant. I’m poison now, too. Infected.
He leads me to the opposite wing of the house, where there have been sounds of construction for weeks. We stop before a set of doors engraved with vines and flowers around the edges. It’s beautiful work, implying something equally beautiful beyond.
“Are you ready?” asks Darkness.
No.
I nod.
He raps on the wood and the doors swing open from inside. A guard bows his head and steps back from the entrance. My gaze roams freely, cataloguing details that confirm my worst suspicion.
The space is bright and airy, with soft pink walls, frilly white curtains, and generic framed art: ballerinas, colorful balloons, watercolor flowers. It looks like a giant nursery, and the truth isn’t far off. Along the wall to our right is a row of beds. Between them are small, matching dressers, the surfaces cluttered with small mementos. Combs. Ribbons. A Bible. Chapstick.
To our left is a living room/entertainment area. Cozy and bright, with colorful pillows on a tan sectional and a high-pile rug. There’s a stereo system, flatscreen television, and a partial kitchen. There are used dishes in the sink waiting for maid service.
The details sink in, one by one, shaping a reality that’s both horrifying and familiar. After all, Nate and I once lived in a space similar to this one, back in the house near Shaver Lake.
“What do you think?” murmurs Julep, his head bent close to mine. His pleasure radiates through the words. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
Before us, lined up against the windows, are seven teenage girls. Bright morning sunlight glistens in their hair—brown, black, blond, and auburn. They’re smiling. Smiling because they’ve been told to, and because they have no earthly idea of what’s in store for them.
My ears are ringing. Somewhere down in the deep dark, I’m screaming.
“Yes,” I answer him, because I have to. It’s only the truth. They wouldn’t be here if they weren’t beautiful. They’d still be with their families, or friends, or in school, shopping at the mall, racking up cell phone bills, or stealing lipstick from a corner convenience store.
Julep’s free hand smooths proprietarily over the crown of my head and down my spine. He draws me against him, subtly driving his erection against my hip. I don’t blink.
Perfect doll.
Still gazing at me, he says, “Girls, this is Madame Deirdre, the woman I’ve told you all about. She’s my finest accomplishment. In her time, she wooed some of the most powerful men on the planet. I could not have found you a better teacher. Say thank you, girls.”
“Gracias.”
“Thank you.”
Seven voices, a mingling of English and Spanish, dip into my chest and pierce. Stab. Stir something dormant. My own darkness. Clawed and starved, it rises.
Seven faces.
Seven more reasons to kill the son of a bitch with his hand on the small of my back, his dark eyes warm and proud, his smile loving, his grip promising a night of pain for me.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, “you’ll be great.”
I try to say, “I’m going to kill you,” but what comes out instead is, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kisses my cheek, lowering his voice. “You have two weeks to prepare them. Don’t fail me, or I’ll slice their pretty necks and make you mop up the blood.”
I nod. Message received. With a final pat on my shoulder, Darkness leaves the room.
An armed guard stays, his gaze trained on the empty space outside a window. Luckily for these girls, Julep puts the fear of God into his men. If they touch what’s his, they die. Unless they pay a hefty price for it.
Then they can do just about anything their filthy little hearts want.
“Hello, ladies. I’m Deirdre.”
