Skullduggery {sapphic thriller}

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Caustic vapors ripped through my nose, waking me from somewhere between sleep and consciousness. My head felt like it was floating. I could barely look down at my body, but I was upright, no longer in Desirae's shirt and shorts, but in a silky mauve plunging gown, zip tied to some kind of welded steel armature. Creamy white flowers wrapped in protective plastic laid at my feet. The last thing I remembered was Artie's hand against my cheek.

As my peripheral vision unblurred, I found her sitting on the edge of the chaise, her back rigid. Cora's voice entered my head, but I couldn't turn to see her.

"I covered for you, Artie. Every time you screwed up, I was there covering for you. When you got kicked out of school, when your husband caught you with that hooker, when Gabriel died—"

"That was not my fault."

"You paid him. What did you think he was going to do with the money? He was a junkie. And your husband just let him overdose in the courtyard." Cora walked over to her, wearing some kind of work jumpsuit, blonde hair tied back. She pointed at Artie with something slim and metal. "I gave you the idea for the body bank to get rid of Gabriel which conveniently helped your father as well. I helped you set up Landon. I helped you fake your death so you could escape. I did all of this for you. And you left me."

"This—these bodies, they were never part of the plan. We were setting Landon up for my father's bodies, for the body bank." Artie looked down at the sofa, holding up a photograph. "Miles was my friend."

"Did Miles tell you they fucked Kirby right before your visit?"

Artie's eyes met mine. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead looked back down at the photographs that I could only assume were sick trophy images of Cora's work. She shook her head.

"Nothing new there, right?" Cora laughed. Her thumb tapped at the end of whatever was in her hand. "They were always fucking behind your back. But I took care of it for you just like I always did before. This time permanently."

Artie briefly looked my way again before turning back to Cora. "What did it feel like?"

The corner of Cora's lips turned up as she held out the metal instrument to Artie. A scalpel. My heart began to pick up. Its beats lumped and jumped to my throat. I managed to twist my head some, enough to see my right hand. The tips of my fingers wiggled. But I froze as Artie took the scalpel from her and looked my way again.

She walked with Cora over to me where I stood fastened to the welded frame in the middle of our living room. She raised the blade to my chest and I slowed my breathing the best I could. My palms dampened with sweat. I couldn't read her face. As the tip of the scalpel slid down to the dip below my sternum, I sucked in a sharp breath. Cora was too fixed on Artie to notice, but Artie's eyes flicked up to mine again.

She abruptly pulled back. "I need a cigarette."

As she tried to walk away with the blade, Cora took it from her hands, turning away from me. "When did you start smoking again?"

"Right now."

Artie went over to the bookcase to check a carved wooden box that once stashed our party favors, but tossed it back to the shelf. She spotted my tote on top and rifled through it, finding Carl's pack of Luckies he'd pawned off on me.

As discreetly as I could, I tested my range of movement while Cora had her back turned. My arms were coming back. Legs, not so much.

Pressing a cigarette between her lips, Artie flicked the flint of the lighter and took a long drag. She exhaled out the rain streaked window, glancing briefly down to the alley below. Her eyebrow cocked at me and she gave me that disapproving look like when I had moved too much during a painting session.