Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,23

shine?

Or was that just a trick?

But opening my eyes would make it all real. All of it. I can smell him. Not the diesel, although that is faintly in the air. The other thing, the thing I don’t have the words to name. Opening my eyes means facing him, and the last time I did that he killed me.

Or did he save me?

It’s hard to tell what is a nightmare, and what is real anymore.

I think this is real, though. My hair is damp but I’m warm, wrapped up in a thick blanket with hot air blasting in my face. I’m comfortable. No, I think this is definitely real. Which means the last memory I have of him was only a dream. Just my subconscious playing tricks on me.

That should make me feel better than it does.

I open my eyes. The car is dark, save for the neon-colored lights on the console. I’m lying on my side, the seat reclined right back. He’s sitting back in his chair, one hand resting lazily on the wheel while the other elbow rests on the side of the car. He still has the mask on.

He hasn’t noticed I’m awake.

Yet.

I stare at him, my mind unable to disconnect the man sitting in front of me with the man who just had me tied to his bed while he murdered me.

“Did you sleep well?”

He says the words without looking back once, and I shrink away from him on instinct. How did he know I was awak—

“You snore in your sleep,” he says with a chuckle, answering the question before I’ve even asked it.

“Where are we?” I try to sit up to look around, but the seatbelt is over both of my arms. Every time I jerk it away it locks in place.

Baron huffs and reaches his hand over, making me flinch in panic. “Silly girl,” he says, before slowly pulling the seatbelt up. This time, it moves for him.

My heart is still hammering from his sudden movement when he glances over at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I had a nightmare.”

He chuckles. “My favorite. Were you drowning?”

“No.”

“Running from something? Those are the best ones.”

“No.”

He turns around and stares at me for a long minute before dragging his head back toward the road.

“Then what?”

I stare out of the window, wishing it wasn’t so dark so I could make out the surroundings. It has been so long since I’ve seen the outside world, I have no idea if the things I remember are truly memories or just figments of all the magazines I studied growing up.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. Tell me.” His tone turns darker.

Maybe I should just say it. Then I can watch his reaction.

“You were there, and you killed me.”

Baron looks out of the window nearest to him as if he’s uncomfortable.

“Interesting. How?”

“I… I don’t know. You had a wooden bat, and then a knife. But when you stabbed me it felt like… like not how I’d imagine a knife would feel.”

He looks at me and then laughs. “I had a bat? Not my style. Amusing that your subconscious thinks it would be.”

I turn away while my mind works overtime trying to decipher his words. He didn’t say the dream was ridiculous, only that the weapon of choice was.

“Am I going to die?”

He stays silent, and I can’t help the urge to turn around and watch him. His hand—the one leaning on the edge of the window—strokes the back of his hooded neck, almost as if he is deep in thought.

That’s not a question any sane person should have to think about.

“Baron?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. Possibly. Probably. I fear we will be the death of each other.”

We pull off from the road some time later and the car slows down as the ground becomes more uneven. Tall trees rise up on either side, blocking out most of the moonlight. I look around, but I’m unable to see much until the dense forest clears.

Then it appears in front of us, a huge, sprawling building with high turrets and a large dome in the center of the roof. Its features look black against the dark blue of the sky. Where everything else on the journey seemed decaying and crumbling, this place has signs of upkeep. The windows are all intact—the ones I can see at least. There are signs of life. Lights—but only the uppermost levels have them switched on. The lower floors are shrouded in complete darkness.

We’ve been silent for most of the