And righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
"I'll do what you asked," I said, my voice thick with tears as I pressed her fingers. "I don't know how, but I will right the wrong done to you. You can rest easy on that account."
It didn't take long for me to mop the tears from my face and hurry into my clothing. I was next to Anniki, unsure of whether or not I should cover her with a blanket before calling the police, when a knock sounded at my door.
I froze for a second, terrified the killer had come back, but realized after a moment of incoherent thought that it must be the breakfast I'd ordered.
"Pia, can I borrow some ibuprofen? I've got the world's worst head - "
A familiar voice had me spinning around.
Denise stood in the doorway of the bathroom, her eyes and mouth making little Os of horror as she stared at the body on the floor.
"I didn't kill her," I blurted out, seeing the accusation in her eyes. I made a gesture of innocence, but Denise's eyes bugged out a bit more as she stared at my hand. It was red with blood. "Oh, that. That came from the stone she gave me. I really didn't kill her," I repeated. "I found her like that. Well, she was alive, but she died right away."
Denise started to back away slowly.
"Do I look like I'm the sort of person to stab another person in the heart?" I asked, following her out of the bathroom.
She paused for a moment, then flung back her head and screamed in the most unearthly way. "Murder!"
"Hell's bells, Denise, I just told you - "
"Murderer!" she screamed again, raising her hand to point at me.
It's an old adage that your life passes before your eyes when you're about to die. I'm living proof that such an idea is completely false. Not only did a speedy vision of all my life's high and low points zip through my mind at that moment, but a vision of the immediate future followed, one in which I tried to explain to the police about such things as Zoryas, handsome men who apparently indulged in one-night stands before disappearing into the blue, a group devoted to ridding the world of evil, and just how a dead woman I'd seen a few hours before happened to be murdered literally right next to me.
In my bathroom.
With my fingerprints on the murder weapon.
And a precious gem belonging to her now in my possession. All that zipped through my brain in the time it took for Denise to scream out one word. By the time she sucked in the air needed to fuel another scream, I'd come to a decision - there was no way I was going to be able to explain any of the happenings of the previous day. I'd have to seek help from people who wouldn't think I was crazy.
I didn't say anything more to Denise; I simply grabbed the moonstone, flung open the French doors that led to a small balcony, and climbed over the railing, praying I wouldn't break a leg in the fall to the grassy lawn one floor below.
I hit the ground hard, but not so hard that I injured myself. Denise's scream wafted out of the opened doors, which set me to running out of the tiny garden at the back of the hotel. I raced around to the front of the building, pausing for a moment to get my bearings. In front of the hotel sat a familiar-looking car, the passenger door of which opened almost immediately.
"Alec," I cried gratefully, and ran for the haven he offered.
The startled look in Kristoff's blues eyes told me he wasn't waiting outside the hotel for me.
"Where's Alec?" he asked, frowning as he peered over my shoulder.
Behind me, a woman screamed. I hesitated, unwilling to trust him, but equally unsure whether I would stand a better chance with the authorities.
The memory of the glow of pleasure in Denise's eyes as she screamed at me was the deciding point.
"I don't know," I answered, hopping into the car, slamming closed the door, and slumping down in the seat. "But we're about to have company, so unless you want to explain to the police why your buddy disappeared leaving a murdered woman in my bathroom, I'd suggest you get moving."
I'll say this for the harsh Kristoff - he didn't need to be told twice. He just slammed his foot on the accelerator and peeled off.
"Stay down," he commanded, using one hand to shove me onto the floor.
I wasn't about to argue the point. I curled up in as small a ball as I could and tried to keep from banging my head on the door or dashboard as he zoomed through the streets.
"We're out of the town. You can get up now. Who's been killed?" he asked after a few minutes.
"The Zorya." I winced when he took a corner too quickly, slamming me back against the car door. "Are we being followed?"