and all she could do was flail helplessly just as the bluebird had done.
On the floor in a puddle of blood, the now silent wingless creature stared, its eye cloudy, chest still rising and falling, but slowly now. So very slowly. Oh God, oh God. Kandace’s soul shuddered, though she refused to cry in front of this evil bitch and her bloodhound. She refused.
Ms. Wykes stepped into her line of sight, blocking the bird and bending down so that her face was level with Kandace’s. I will not cry. I will not cry. Kandace stared icily back at Ms. Wykes, and Ms. Wykes regarded her for a moment. “Mm,” she hummed. “I can see you’re more defiant than some, more difficult to break.” She brought the still-bloody scissors up. “But mark my words, Ms. Thompson. You will break. You will break in ways you never imagined. And when you leave Lilith House, you will return to your parents the obedient little girl they’ve been promised.”
Terror pooled in Kandace’s stomach as Ms. Wykes raised the scissors and then brought them down toward the back of her head. Kandace let out a shocked cry as they snapped shut with the same loud metallic snip that had sounded when she’d used them to clip the bird’s wings.
The pressure lifted on her head and she realized that the man was no longer holding her by her hair. Ms. Wykes tossed something on the desk next to her as Kandace struggled to rise. She blinked, reality crashing in around her when she realized what it was: her long blonde ponytail.
The man yanked her by the back of her shirt and she stumbled upright, taking a step backward, her hand going to the empty spot at the back of her head. She gasped out a breath. “You cut my hair.” The words sounded breathy, disbelieving.
“Vanity will not be tolerated here, Ms. Thompson, nor will sinful behavior of any sort.”
Kandace stared at her. She couldn’t remember the last time anything had shocked her. Ms. Wykes was right about one thing: Kandace had become desensitized to sinful behavior, hers or anyone else’s, but she could honestly say she was shocked now. Stunned and deeply frightened. Her eyes darted to the large man, a glint in his eyes that told her he’d be only too happy to exert whatever physical force was necessary to ensure she was cooperative.
But Kandace was seldom obedient. She let out a slow, controlled breath. They didn’t know who they were dealing with. Not yet. But they would. She swore it. They would.
“I’ll report this,” she said. “I’ll tell them what you did today. Everyone will know. They’ll shut you down.”
Ms. Wykes smiled and for the first time it met her eyes, her expression one of genuine amusement. But as quickly as that, it vanished. “You will? Oh dear,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure your mother will believe you. I’m quite certain you’ve never lied. I imagine her trust in you is veritably unshakeable.” She tapped a bony finger against her thin, blanched lips. “You, a disappointment who showed up here at Lilith House high and practically hallucinating”—she nodded to the baggie of marijuana and pills—“when the court has made it clear that should you be caught with drugs, the chance you’ve been given here at Lilith House will be rescinded in exchange for jail time. In exchange for a permanent record.”
Kandace stared at her, wondering if jail time would be better . . . or worse. She knew what her mother would say. God, you’re such an embarrassment. The words came back to her now, cutting, the same way they had when her mother had hissed them at her.
“Now,” Ms. Wykes said, brushing her hands together as though what had happened was no more than a casual, though slightly unpleasant, welcome that should be brushed aside. “You are in the attic with two other young women. Jasper will show you to your room.”
Kandace’s mind raced. She had to find a way out of here . . . she needed to talk to the other young women and find out more about this place, find out if this was the regular welcome wagon, find out . . . everything she could. “My suitcase is still in the foyer,” she said.
“Your things have been burned,” Ms. Wykes responded. “You will be given a uniform, and a modest sleep outfit, no more.” She grabbed something off her desk—a silver crucifix—raising it high in