Corrupted Queen - Nicole Fox Page 0,49
bed with my laptop to call Clara. She should be finished with dinner now and back in her room at the rehab center—the last one of Gabriel’s that is still open. I am grateful to him for making sure she is taken care of, but the knowledge that in order to get her a spot in the center amidst all the closures, he would have had to have tossed someone to the street, sits heavy in my stomach. If he closes this center, too, I know Gabriel will find a place for Clara, that he won’t leave her out in the cold, but what of all the other recovering addicts?
Clara answers my Skype call, and she looks remarkably better than she did the last time I saw her, which was at her apartment just after she’d defenestrated her boyfriend. Her green eyes are a little brighter, her springy golden curls a little bouncier. There is warmth in her cheeks again, though her skin is still a bit sallow and bags still sink below her eyes.
“Hey, Clara,” I greet, waving. “You look great!”
She smiles, though it is a strange, weak smile, and shifts back against the pillows of her bed. “Thank you. It feels like all I do all day is eat and meditate.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
She shrugs. “It could be worse.”
“Hang on.” I lean over, plucking Harry from the floor and bringing him to my lap. “Someone wants to say hello to you.”
Clara brightens, and for a second she looks like her old self again. “Hey, little guy,” she coos, waving into the camera.
“Awny Clara!” Harry reaches for her, not understanding the concept of a video chat. His fingers smudge the screen and Clara and I both laugh as I wrangle him away.
“You can’t touch Auntie Clara,” I say, kissing his head. “But you can talk to her. Or you can blow her some kisses.”
I lift my palm to my lips and Harry mimics the motion. We blow kisses to Clara, who pretends to catch them and hug them to her chest. Harry reaches for the screen again, mumbling some nonsense that both Clara and I pretend to understand. Over time I watch Clara’s smile slip, and she gets a glassy look in her eyes that worries me.
“Clara? You okay?”
She blinks, nodding. “Yeah. Sorry. I could just really use a drink.”
“I know,” I say sadly. “But remember how good you’ll feel once you’re back to normal.”
She presses her lips together uncertainly. “I don’t know if I will, Alexis. I pushed a guy out a window. Is there really a way for me to feel normal again after that?”
“Yes,” I assure her, thinking back to my own traumatic experience of being kidnapped.
Then again, am I qualified to give that advice? I may not have nightmares about Andrew Walsh anymore, but I spent weeks with my back pressed to a wall and a knife strapped somewhere to me at all times. I probably would still be acting like that if I didn’t feel so safe in Gabriel’s mansion.
I hadn’t given much thought to it before now, but being in the mansion has allowed me to relax in a way I wasn’t able to do at all in the motels that came before.
“I don’t feel like I’ll ever be normal,” she says with a sigh. “I’m so sorry for getting you involved in all this, whatever this even is. I should have been more suspicious of Killian from the start. I had no idea about any of this until it was too late.”
A twinge of guilt pricks my ribs. Clara has no idea that it was I who got her involved in this, and not the other way around. Killian would have never targeted her if not for me and my connection to the Italian mob. I want to tell her, but she needs stability right now and that kind of revelation could send her spiraling again.
“Clara, you couldn’t have known,” I say. “Please don’t blame yourself. I’m fine. Totally fine. I love you, and I’m just happy that you’re getting help. Believe me when I say that things will go back to normal.”
She smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Alexis. That means a lot.”
Warm. Soft. Cozy.
I stretch, taking a deep breath as I lift from the depths of the sleep I was in until a moment ago. The room is black and quiet, but I already know what woke me.
The mattress sinks down on the other side with