Most times, I’d show such hypocritical ‘friends’ the door, tossing them out like spent makeup. But Sandra? She’s different. We’ve come too far, seen our lowest lows, and still stuck by each other. The idea of losing her... it makes my chest tighten. Although I only recently met the woman, she hasn’t abandoned me, unlike everyone else—my so-called friends, boyfriends, even my mother, and my prick of a father.
“Please, Sandra, I’m sorry!” I call out again.
Don’t abandon me like all the others!
The thought is on the tip of my tongue, but it’s too raw, too desperate. She doesn’t stop, instead disappearing into Dracoth’s chambers. It’s the largest room I’ve seen down here. Dark and eerie, with glowing orange and yellow veins pulsing along the walls. Sandra collapses onto a pile of furs, burying her face in them, and lets out a muffled scream.
This is bad.
I carefully sit beside her, listening to her muffled breathing, and place a comforting hand on her back.
“I’m sorry I called you Greg. It was—”
“You ruin everything!” she snaps, whipping her head around to face me, her eyes red and brimming with anger. Her face is flushed, and sweat is dripping from her forehead. “We could’ve had a fun night with Dracoth, but you had to start acting like a mental bitch!”
I barely register the insult. I’m too distracted by the sight of her. “You don’t look so good, Sandra.” I frown, pressing my hand to her flushed, clammy forehead. “You’re boiling.”
“Of course I’m boiling!” she shouts, swatting my hand away. “We’re in a bloody volcano, Lexie.” She waves a hand at the molten seams glowing along the walls.
She has a point.
“Here,” I offer Sandra the slab of stone. “Want some giant snail monster? Demon Egg-Head’s little brother gave me it.”After he gassed me with psychotic murder drugs.“It’s actually nice. Tastes a bit like moist scallops.”
“Moist?” Sandra’s eyes light up as she snatches the stone plate from my hands. “I’m dying of thirst,” she mutters, tearing strips from the generous chunk of meat. She chews noisily, moaning with satisfaction. The tension in my shoulders lessens now that I know she’s just a little annoyed, not furious.
“How are you not roasting?” she asks between bites, wiping sweat from her brow.
Images of the bubbling pools of lava flash in my mind, and I find myself wishing I could bathe in them. Feel its molten heat scorch the grime and darkness from me... But it’s probably just the murder gas messing with my head again.
“I’m not sure,” I shrug. “Maybe because I’ve spent summers in the Caribbean and Mediterranean?” I frown, feeling a little homesick. God, I miss lounging on yachts, with only my choice of meal and bikini to worry about.
“I went to Ibiza, and it was nowhere near this hot,” Sandra replies, her face glistening with even more sweat.
Maybe it’s because she’s a ginger?I force the thought down, already in enough hot water.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” she says, her eyes locking onto mine, a tremble in her voice. “Living here with Dracoth... in this... heat.” She shakes her head like someone just ruined her favorite dress—ugh, I miss my Chanel too.
“You’ll be fine. He probably doesn’t stay here that often anyway,” I offer, gesturing to the sparse, oversized stonefurniture scattered around the chamber. “No piles of dirty clothes, no nude posters on the walls, and definitely no used tissues by a crusty computer desk.” I say with a smile, trying to suppress the revolting image of Michael’s bedroom flashing through my mind. God, the number of times I urged him—nicely—to clean that disgusting pigsty. You’d think with his family’s money, he could’ve hired some help. Some people, I swear...
Sandra chuckles, fanning her flushed face. “Thanks, Lexie,” she says, snapping me out of my disturbing memories—worlds away now.
My eyes catch on something tall and stone-like in the corner, its height making it hard to spot at first.
“Oh!” I gasp, my heart fluttering with eager anticipation. I tiptoe to peer over the edge of a tall stone container. It’s a basin, complete with a drain and a black metal faucet. “Jackpot,” I mutter, turning the handle. Crystal-clear water rushes out, and I grin.
“Is that water?” Sandra blurts out, her excitement greater than mine. “Oh, thank God!” She rushes over to stand beside me. “I swear, if I could, I’d sit in that thing and never leave.”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand, a sudden concern dawning on me. “Knowing the ‘hole-in-the-ground’ clan, it might be lava,” I suggest, running my hand under the stream, half expecting to scald myself. Instead, it’s cool and soothing. “It’s actually cold,” I say, turning to Sandra, raising an eyebrow. Her face lights up like my ex-boyfriend’s red flags.
“Gimme a hand,” Sandra pleads, lifting her leg as if I’m some kind of donkey she wants to mount. I stare at her foot like it’s a bargain-bin reject. “Please,” she adds with wide eyes, looking as sweet as honey.
I shake my head in disbelief. If it weren’t for the teeny-tiny bit of guilt gnawing at the back of my mind, I’d tell her to go jump.But instead, I sigh—loudly—offering her a hand as she clambers on top of me like I’m the world’s most beautiful ladder.
“Stop wriggling!” I grunt through gritted teeth, her awkward squirming somehow making the whole ordeal more difficult.
A bizarre moaning noise—like a cross between a cow and a banshee—mingles with the sound of rushing water. I manage to glance past her flailing legs and spot Sandra bent over the edge of the basin, her entire head dunked into the water.
“Oh my God, this is amazing!” she exclaims, splashing water everywhere as she thrashes around excitedly.
