As Darkness Gathers (Dark Betrayals Book 2) (28 page)

“Can you ever forgive me?”

I slipped off my shoes on the bamboo mat by the door, hugged her, and then led her to the white chesterfield. For once, I didn’t hesitate to sit on the pristine sofa, and I drew her down beside me. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I feel so responsible. My own
brother
. I don’t understand how he could have done this. How did I not see it?”

“You couldn’t have known. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Her hair was in its ever-present elaborate braid, but instead of her usual chic, designer attire, she was clad in a wrinkled robe. She managed to look glamorous and gamine at the same time, the tears she scrubbed from her face failing to diminish her beauty.
 

“I didn’t mean to fall apart on you,” she said, sniffling. “Want a glass of wine? I know it’s only midafternoon, but it’s been one of those days.”

“It’s been one of those months. I’ll take a glass.”

She hugged me and then retreated into the kitchen.
 

I slumped further down on the sofa and dropped my head back against the plush cushions with a sigh.
 

It was several long minutes before Sydney returned with two glasses of wine. I accepted the one she held out to me and took a gulp. “I probably shouldn’t drink this. I haven’t had lunch.”

“I have some leftovers from last night,” Sydney said. “Just some eggplant parmesan that I found a recipe for. I’ll reheat two plates.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

She waved. “I’ll feel better doing something. I’ve been cleaning all morning. I can’t sit still.”

“In that case, it sounds delicious.”

“Sit tight. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

I leaned back and sipped more of my wine, closing my eyes and enjoying the taste while listening to the clanking of plates and silverware in the kitchen.

“Did you fall asleep on me?”

I blinked and sat upright, a glance at the clock over the mantle showing ten minutes had passed. I laughed. “I think I almost did.”

Sydney perched on the armchair across from me. “Leftovers are in the oven.”

“It’s a new recipe, you said?” I put a hand to my forehead as the room suddenly spun and dipped. “I must have drunk my wine too quickly.”

“Are you not feeling well?”

I swayed where I was sitting, and wine sloshed over the rim of my glass, splattering on the chesterfield. On the white cushions, it looked as violent as blood. “Oh, my god! I’m so sorry. I’ll pay to have it cleaned.” I thought that’s what I said, but my lips felt numb, my tongue too big for my mouth. The room rotated again, and I squinted at Sydney.

She set her untouched wine glass aside and watched me with no expression on her flawless face. “Perhaps you should lie down, Finch.”

I reached to set the glass on the end table, but it slipped from my fingers. Wine sluiced across the carpet and splattered over my toes. I stared down at the deep red droplets that beaded and rolled from the tops of my bare feet. I had to grasp the padded arm of the sofa to avoid toppling over. “Syd.” My voice was slurred. “I think there was shome . . . something in my drink.”

She stood, and trying to follow the movement made my head whirl. “There was.”

“Wha . . .” I blinked up at her, struggling to form the words. “What? I don’ . . .”

Her hands were cool on my face. “You don’t understand? I know. But I’ll explain it to you, honey.”
 

I tried to resist as she eased me down on the couch, but it was like swimming against a tidal wave. My mind felt muddled, and I couldn’t tell if she had the strength of ten men, or if my bone and muscle were melting away.
 

“Lie down now.”

“Syd? Wha . . .”

“Shh.” She stroked the hair back from my forehead, and her hands were suddenly so cold it felt like ice raking across my skin.
 

“Need . . . hel . . .”

“You’ve made me do this.” Her voice was calm and soothing, and I closed my eyes as she knelt beside the sofa.
 

The whirl of the room made my stomach heave and my thoughts twist. I fought to focus.

“I wanted so very badly to hate you. But then you somehow became my friend, and I was torn. So torn.”

She put something in my drink.
The thought surfaced and almost slipped away before I grabbed and clung to it. She’d drugged me. With something potent. Keeping my thoughts together was like trying to hold water in my hands and mold it into form. I concentrated on what she was saying.

“I think I could have let it go, eventually, but you pushed me into it.”

I blinked up at her, forcing my eyes to focus. “Friends . . . why?”

“Why? Because he was mine first.”

I tried to wet my lips. “Wh . . . oo?”

Her face had been so serene and empty then it twisted with rage. “How easily you put him aside, moving on as if he meant nothing, while he was left devastated.”

Jeremy
.

“I thought he’d come back to me someday. I could handle your being with him, but when I knew you’d hurt him, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I thought he’d come to me for comfort after the crash.”

The crash?
The plane going down
. “Willlll . . .”

“He was easy to manipulate. He always has been. The plane, breaking into your apartment. He really didn’t know any better.”

My teeth were chattering. “People . . . killed . . .” She could have killed so many.

Her shrug set my vision to tilting once more. “If you’d driven a bus, I would have had him cut the break line.”

I closed my eyes, and only when I felt moisture roll down my temple and into my ear did I realize I was crying.
 

“Shh. Shh, now. Don’t do that.” Her icy fingers swept the tears from my skin. “I thought that would be the end of it.”

Swallowing was an effort. “Y . . . ou.”

“I never truly wanted to hurt you, honey. I’ve both loathed and
loved
you.”

My phone rang in my pocket, and I fumbled for it. Sydney grabbed it and tossed it aside.
 

An anguished moan tore from my chest. “Nooo.”

“Hush, hush. It’ll be painless, I promise. That’s why I drugged you first. You’ll just go to sleep. An unfortunate accident. Okay?”

“Shyd . . . Syd . . . ney. Friends!”

“I know. The very best.” She smiled down at me as she stood. “Just lie there a moment. I have a few things I need to do.”
 

My phone rang again, and she stooped to pick it up, sneering as she read the caller ID. “Clay.” Her hand cracked across my cheek, but the slap was a distant sting. “You whore.” She pocketed my ringing phone and left the room.

WHORE, WHORE. Red paint on glass
. My thoughts whirled through my head too quickly to assimilate, but one word pounded in tempo with the thud of my heart.
Run, run, run, run.
 

I couldn’t find the coordination to push myself upright, so I rolled and fell to the carpet in a boneless sprawl. I landed on my stomach and choked against the bile that rose in the back of my throat. Dragging my fist over my eyes did nothing to settle my roiling vision. I couldn’t get my arms and legs under me. It was an effort to hold my head up and glance around, but my eyes locked on a closed door. Back, front, or closet door, I couldn’t remember, but I dug my elbows into the carpet and dragged myself toward it.

Back door, front door, closet
. I repeated it like a singsong melody. Inching across the floor felt as if it took hours, and my movements became frantic when my forehead lolled against the carpet at close intervals.

“Jeremy!” Sydney exclaimed as I bumped into the door.
 

I strained to hear a response above the uneven wheeze of my breath, but there was only the murmur of her voice in another room. She must have been on the phone.

I raised myself on an elbow and fumbled for the doorknob. My hand slipped over the metal several times before I managed to grasp it. I used the handle as leverage and pulled myself, shaking, to my knees. The knob turned under my grip and the door swung open, spilling me across the threshold leading out to her small deck. I braced myself against the doorjamb and struggled to make my legs hold me up.

“What do you mean,
where’s Finch
?” Sydney’s laugh was high and brittle.

My feet finally gained purchase, but I couldn’t feel my legs, and I wove drunkenly as I stumbled across the deck. The dusting of snow wet my feet and the hem of my jeans, but I couldn’t feel the cold.

There was a startled exclamation from inside as I lurched against the railing.
Run, run, run, run
.

I staggered down the first step, but my legs gave out and I pitched forward. The snow cushioned my fall but offered no traction when I tried to rise. It took the remnants of my strength and energy to roll onto my back.

Sydney appeared at the top of the stairs, a svelte figure set against the cold, gray sky, and then my vision went dark.

When I came to, I was being dragged. My limbs felt as pliant as pulled taffy as I focused my hazy gaze on the façade of a familiar house. Memories siphoned through the fog enshrouding my brain.

Sydney. The dock at the lake behind her townhouse
.
 

Her footsteps echoed hollowly on the wood, and splinters stabbed into the backs of my heels as they were raked across the rough planks.
 

I tried to wrench away from her grip, but it was a useless flail.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” she said, stopping to lay me down at the end of the dock. Her hand cupped the back of my head so it wouldn’t thud against the wood, and then she crouched beside me. “You have no idea how hard this is.”

My lips moved but no sound escaped. I stared up at her, this woman who had been my friend and confidante for the last two years. Whom I had thought of as a sister.

She leaned over me and pressed her lips to my cheek.
 

The cheek she struck
, I remembered when the pressure against my skin made me flinch. Her long, dark braid fell over her shoulder and across my face, enveloping me in the scent of her perfume.

“I’m going to miss you so much, honey,” she whispered as she slid one hand under my hip, the other under my shoulder.

My cry for help escaped as a muted sob. With what felt like a Herculean effort, I flung out my hand and twisted my fingers into the hem of her bathrobe as she pushed me off the dock.

My fingers and shoulder wrenched as I rolled over the edge, but I held on. She yelped in surprise as she lost her balance, and her head struck the side of the dock with a hollow
thunk
as we fell.

She landed on top of me, and our weight shattered the thin layer of ice as we hit the surface. My indrawn breath filled my lungs with frigid water, and Sydney’s weight drove me further into the murky depths.
 

I kicked away from her and floundered, disoriented. The wintry water threatened to leech away the last vestiges of consciousness. I couldn’t tell which way was up or down, but in one direction the water was opalescent, and I clawed my way toward it.

My lungs burned, and the weakness in my legs and arms was turning to heaviness by the time my head broke the surface. I choked and spluttered, frantic for air, but my slow, disjointed treading barely kept my face above the water.

The dock pile was only a few feet away, but it felt like miles as I tried to stroke through the water but only achieved disorganized jerks.
 

When my hand finally struck slick wood, a raw sob grated against my throat. I wrapped both arms around it and pressed my cheek to the roughness.
 

My shivering was violent, and my teeth chattered so forcefully my jaw ached. I didn’t realize I was fading until my face sagged into the water. I jerked my head up with a whimper. I couldn’t reach the edge of the dock. Even if I could, I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up. The water wasn’t deep there, but I knew if I let go and attempted to swim the short distance to shore, I would drown. Whatever had been in my wine was tightening its grip on me. I wouldn’t last long, and when I lost consciousness, I would lose my grip and go under.