Clara
Clawed branches twist into a dark in my painting. It doesn't resemble the bonsai in front of me at all, but the shadowy forest in my mind had refused to let go.
I peek at Alister's. As expected, it's the same. We were supposed to paint how it makes us feel.
"You're not good at this, huh?" I tease as he stands up.
"I don't need to be." he says, walking after Zach and Steph, but pauses midway. "Yours...was excellent."
I chuckle softly and follow.
Since last night, he's been… different. Sweet, almost. Showering me with compliments. No backhanded remarks. It's unsettling. I ended up electrocuting him, thinking Leora had taken over, trying to trick me. But all he did as his body twitched violently while I apologized, was tell me how I'm doing a good job of keeping my guard up.
I'd splash water on his face, fake a stumble so he'd catch me. Even pour salt into his meticulously made tea, just to see if he'd crack. But he never did. It feels like he's sprinkling sugar over everything, when I'd rather have the bitter honesty he used to give me.
Our footsteps crunch on the gravel as we head to the lodge for dinner. Some people linger by the entrance. Others drift in pairs. I note the instructor's gazes, making sure we blend in. Just another part of the crowd.
I spot a group of girls by the path, their hushed giggles rising and darting eyes fixed on Alister. One nudges another, a whisper sparking fresh laughter as their gazes cling to him like moths to a flame.
"Damn vultures." I mumble.
Muttering a quiet curse, I stride up to Alister and loop my arm through his before he can react. His body stiffens, eyes glancing at me in confusion. Heat seeps through the fabric of my sleeve and I refuse to let go.
"What's wrong?" he asks, searching for an answer on my face, while I stubbornly look ahead.
"I can't stand the staring." I reply. The giggling behind us stutters, then fades, and I bite back a satisfied smirk.
His expression hardens. "Someone's staring at you?" I feel the shift instantly. His shoulders squaring, footsteps steadying as if he's bracing for a fight.
I part my lips to clarify, but a brilliant thought stops me in my tracks. "Why, yes," I say, tightening my grip on his arm. I aim for distressed, but it comes out dramatic. "It's terrible! I say we stay close to keep them away."
His eyebrow raises, eyes glinting with amusement behind his glasses. He sees through me, but instead of calling me out, he lets out a tired sigh. "Of course," he says smoothly, mock-serious. "It's safer, right?"
I smile, biting my tongue before I say something that might better sell this illusion we're creating.
This feels nice.
I don't want this stolen closeness to end. This dangerous, beautiful tether between us, making me wonder if maybe, just maybe, there's something real in the silence.
There's a safety in him I never expected. Not gentle, but fierce. The kind that snarls at the world yet stands by you, that pretends not to care but remembers every small word. The kind that makes the fire in your chest feel like it has a place to burn without shame.
I don't want this feeling to ever fade.
"You should've come with me for that massage and acupuncture when I asked. Seeing how stiff you are." I smirk.
It's only after he declined that I remembered the scars across his chest. No way he'd even consider it. And so I was left with the disappointment of not seeing him out of his clothes… and in a very easily removable robe.
He glances at me, unimpressed. "The creepy look on your face when you asked, told me exactly what—" He stops abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean… I just didn't feel like it. Though, thoughtful of you to ask."
This is too entertaining.
"You do like it when I'm thoughtful, don't you?" I remark. He groans, looking away, but I catch the faint pink warming his ears. Got him.
Among the scattered guests, a lone figure loiters at the garden's edge. The silver rings and barbells in his ears and brow glints under the light. His gaze drifts from the lodge to me, before he looks away. He's one of the men Simon warned us about.
That little genius was one step ahead this time. Sending me out to use my invisibility to plant hidden cameras during the tour, while secretly stashing a second phone? Exactly what we needed. Plus, Simon's excuse of feeling sick, anything to avoid participating, turned out perfect. It let him keep an eye on suspicious people from inside the cabin. Aside from a few interruptions from staff and even Everley, it's going well.
We pull away once we reach the lodge. The floors creak softly as we make our way through to the dining hall. As we enter, the room unfolds. A grand yet intimate space with two long wooden tables stretching its length. White linen runners, simple ceramic plates, and polished silverware adorn each table, while small glass lanterns glow softly among sprigs of lavender and rosemary.
Guests and staff are already settling in, some murmuring quietly, others laughing softly. Cushioned chairs sit close together, fostering the sense of community Everley cultivates. At the far end, near the head of a table, she stands composed, watching the gathering like a silent observer.
"Welcome, do sit down, everyone," she says, voice smooth and inviting, gesturing for guests and staff to take their seats. Her dark hair is loosely braided, stray strands framing her sharp features.
We hesitate before settling down. I can feel my friends glancing at me from the corner of their eyes, even Stephanie as she's stuffing her face with rice.
According to Simon, Miss Everley leaves her office only at mealtimes or for classes. She may seem absent, but someone is always nearby. Either guarding the office or helping anyone trying to reach her. Our first plan was to take the dagger after everyone slept—until we realized her bedroom adjoins the office. The office door is locked with suspicious extra bolts, and the barred windows make sneaking in impossible. Picking the keyhole won't help.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself before rising. Warmth seeps through the plates as I lift them, carefully balanced to keep the food intact. The aroma of roasted vegetables, herbed rice, and spiced sauce drifts up.
"I see your friend couldn't join us. Is he still not feeling well?"
Everley.
I hadn't heard her approach, yet she stands just behind us. I swallow, forcing a neutral expression, and turn to face her. Offering a polite smile. "He's feeling a bit weak right now. I thought I'd eat with him so he doesn't get lonely."
"How unfortunate," she says with a soft sigh, her sad smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I've always believed that when one of us is unwell, it's best they remain surrounded by care. Are you sure it wouldn't be better to send someone trained to check on him?"
"That's kind of you, but he just needs rest. Julia will keep him company and make sure he eats." Stepha says, tilting her head back at Everley. "You shouldn't worry about us. Please, enjoy your own meal."
"I'm just concerned about my new guests, that's all." Everley replies sweetly.
I notice Zach tugging at Steph's sleeve, signaling her to stop.
"How noble." she continues, lips curling into a smile. "But by 'new,' you don't mean we were born yesterday and don't know how to take care of ourselves, right?" She laughs lightly. "Because that would be ridiculous."
They hold a silent stare-down, forced smiles in place, each engaged in a battle whose words I can't decipher. And my hands are growing tired.
Everley drifts to the table, assessing the spread, and lifts two glasses glowing deep amber. "You forgot the drinks." she says, looking over her shoulder. "Kelly, help her carry these, please."
A young woman—Kelly—looks up from across the table. Dressed in a cream tunic with blonde hair pinned at the nape, she walks over obediently.
"No, I can manage," I say quickly, shifting the plates to make room for the glasses.
"Nonsense. It would be a shame if something spilled. Kelly will assist you."
Kelly reaches out and takes the drinks. There's no room for argument now.
Everley's smile widens ever so slightly. "I'll have her bring over some medicines later."
Sh*t. Is she trying to keep an eye on us?
Kelly and I begin to walk away from the dining hall. I can feel Everley's gaze still lingering, like an invisible thread pulling at my back.
My pulse quickens. If Kelly checks the cabin and finds me gone, she'll report back to Everley, and our plan will be ruined. I need to act fast.
The walk back to the cabin feels endless. Each step heavier than the last. The single porch light flickers faintly as I reach for the door, pushing it open.
Inside, Simon sprawls on the bed, covers pulled up to his nose. With his hair pushed back, his mismatched eyes follow us as we set the plates and glasses on the rickety wooden table.
Once Kelly leaves, Simon quickly gets up. "I think she's still out." He says, pulling his phone from under his pillow.
I walk over to him, and sure enough, on the screen, she sits on the porch of the main lodge, rocking slowly in a chair as she watches our cabin.
"She isn't the only one. Look, the bearded guy by the gardens is watching us." he says anxiously. "I have a bad feeling, Clara. Maybe we should postpone. They know we're up to something, and if the dagger goes missing tonight, they'll know it's us."
I sigh, sitting beside him. "You're right. But we need to be quick. The curse is worsening, and I'm honestly afraid of falling asleep alone. I feel weaker now." I admit, staring at my hands. "And Alister's hallucinations are spiraling, not to mention his sudden… outbursts. He can't be left alone either."
I remember our nature walk. How he suddenly stopped, and when I looked back, I had to rush to stop him from bashing someone's head with a rock. Her influence is growing.
"At this point, I don't even care if we get caught, we're already in disguises. Leora taking over Alister is exhausting to deal with. She goes straight to murdering people. The more time we spend, the more frequent this possession thing is going to happen." I say, staring at the ground. Simon doesn't say anything, but I can feel his anxious energy swirling around us.
"Thanks, by the way." I say, nudging him with my elbow. "You're still helping us even when you'd rather be anywhere else." I offer him my best reassuring smile.
He huffs out an awkward laugh, getting up and walking toward the window and opening it. "Well, it's the least I can do, even if I am pretty useless at everything. Plus, it's not like this whole thing doesn't concern me since the ritual will help erase my curse too."
I do my best not to let my smile waver, but it does. A pang of guilt enters my heart as I remember how Alister lied and manipulated Simon into joining us. And how I stayed silent about it because I knew it was beneficial.
"Now, hurry. Once you're back, we're leaving before anyone suspects anything." he says, fingers tightening on the windowsill.
I scoff, rolling my shoulders. "They'll know it's us the moment they see the knife gone and us leaving so suddenly. Why do you think we're in disguises?"
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on activating my ability. I grip the windowsill, hoisting myself up and slipping over the edge until I land softly on the ground. The bearded man in the gardens catches my eye. From his angle, he has a clear line of sight to the cabin's side window and front door.
The moment I step forward, my breath comes in short, uneven gasps. As if the air itself has thickened, pressing against my chest and making each inhale a struggle.
Not now.
My pace quickens almost automatically, driven by an urgent need to finish this. The closer I get to the main lodge, the more the walls seem to close in around me. As I slip past the entrance, I pass by Kelly and a few others.
The hallway to the left, lined with green wallpaper patterned with peace symbols, stretches toward Everley's office. My heart pounds with each step until I kneel by the door. Carefully, I pull a bobby pin from my wig. The disguise is uncomfortable, but it's served its purpose.
I bite my lip, trying to hear the click of the lock as I move the pin. Once unlocked, I slip inside, shutting the door behind me. I make sure the lock is secure before checking to make sure the curtains are pulled over the windows. I let go of my ability. My muscles ache with exhaustion, and I clench my fists, trying to shake off the heaviness creeping into my limbs.
It's getting worse.
There's a soft glow of two scented candles in the corner. Their floral scent filling the air. I switch on a lamp on the desk and stare up at the dagger.
Why the hell is it so high?
I groan inwardly, eyes landing on the chair behind the desk. I stride over and grip its backrest. The legs scrape the floor as I lift it, adjusting before setting it on the desk.
Climbing on top of the table and then the chair makes it creak under me while I reach out to the dagger.
Still high up.
Of course it is.
I rise onto my toes, ignoring the sudden reminder of my ballet days as my fingertips brush against the handle. They fumble against the edge of the frame, searching for a latch or some way to pry it loose.
But... the moment I hear the door lock click, my entire body goes rigid.
Damn it.
My fingers leave the knife instantly. Unzipping the side of my skirt and reaching for the dart gun strapped to my thigh. Cold metal meets my palm as I pull it free.
Then I see her.
Everley stands in the doorway. Relaxed, almost casual, but my eyes are drawn to the black pistol in her hand, aimed straight at me.
"Get down, dear. Let's talk."
A quiet authority laces her tone, as if this is nothing more than a minor inconvenience in her evening. "You've got a nice gun," she continues, stepping inside and locking the door behind her. "But it isn't as assertive as mine."
The air in the room feels heavier now, and I'm starting to feel weird. My grip tightens on my gun, but I don't lower it as I carefully climb down the chair.
"I'm very disappointed in you. I knew you were planning something, but stealing? And that of all things?" She shakes her head.
She doesn't know...good.
"I'm...sorry. we just couldn't stop thinking about it." I say carefully.
"Oh?" She looks surprised, not sure if it's fake or real. "Then you should have just asked." She chuckles as she lowers her gun.
I look at her, confused. I can't believe we didn't listen to Zach. Was the solution this simple?
"Let's talk." She says as she walks over to the shelf. "Place your gun here. I rather not have things like this in my harmonious office."
She says that, keeping her gun trained on me, eyes locked on my dart gun. She wants me to put mine down first. A show of surrender.
But if she lowers hers and I shoot, she won't go down instantly. My etorphine darts usually take 30 seconds to a minute on an average person, and carfentanil, the one I rarely use, can take one to two minutes. Either way, it'll only take a second for Everly to shoot hers.
I walk over and place my gun on the shelf. She smiles, setting her pistol beside mine, then gestures for me to sit at the table.
I obey silently, forcing myself to stay calm. Backup darts are strapped to my legs, and a pistol rests on the other. I did NOT give up comfort for resources for nothing. She moves to a glass cabinet filled with bottles. "How old are you?"
"19." I answer as my head starts to throb.
"Still so young." she smiles, pulling a green bottle and two glasses toward me.
"Now, why did you want to steal my son's dagger?" she asks, filling the glasses with a reddish-brown liquid.
I watch her round the table, placing the chair from the desk onto the floor. "It… seemed like it could be quietly profitable if we sold it."
Where are the others? Did they not see her come into the office?
"It's fine. I'll just give it to you." She laughs. "It's just a simple decoration piece. We have better ones waiting to be hung." She smiles as she takes a sip of her drink.
"...really?" I look down at my untouched glass, the liquid lying still inside it. Even if it's not poisoned, I'm still not drinking it. Something is off. She came with a gun, and now she's just being so dismissive about it.
She waves dismissively. "He won't notice a few missing things," she says, sipping her drink, while I struggle to focus through the throbbing headache.
"By the way," she says as she points at me. "What's that?"
I gulp, trying to look calm while instincts scream at me to run. "What do you mean?"
"That gemstone in your chest."
My eyes widen, and I feel my jaw drop to the ground as I take in her words. She can see it. But...only the owner could see it.
My hand slides through the slit in my skirt, inching toward the pistol's handle.
"You haven't touched your drink." She says as her eyes stare at the full glass.
"I'm...not thirsty." I answer, gripping the handle, using a finger to undo the button holding it in place. Is it me, or are the mandalas on the wallpaper actually moving?
"I didn't mix anything in the drink if that's what you were worried about." She says, swirling the last drops in her glass. "My own creation. Hibiscus and beetroot with lemon. Simply delicious."
The throbbing makes me lightheaded, and the gun slips from my hand, clattering to the floor. The sound echoes, yet Everley doesn't flinch.
"I like making alot of things." she continues as I lean down to pick it back up, not even being subtle at this point while colors flash infront of my eyes.
"Like juices, remedies, dishes, natural cosmetics, creams...candles." she continues, and I stumble to the ground as my hand finds the gun.
The candles...
My gaze drifts towards the two vanilla-scented candles before shifting to Everley as she takes the last sip, head tilted back.
How is she not affected?
Lifting the gun feels like hoisting a shot-put with one finger. I press the trigger and fire. Her blurred figure remains in the chair, looking down at me as darkness creeps in.
I missed.