Skullduggery {sapphic thriller}

CHAPTER THIRTY

As Cora's body went limp against my back and slid to the floor, my desperate survival instinct succumbed to a rage I hadn't felt since childhood. My fingers tightened around the bloodied broken sculpture and I crashed it against her skull again.

And again.

Until soft hands pulled me back and away from the pulpy crimson pool that spread across the light oak floorboards.

"It's done, Kirby," Desirae whispered. "It's over."

Her arms wrapped my body, holding me back. My chest heaved for breaths. The warmth of Cora's blood on my hands, down my neck, the spray of it on my face chilled me to the bone. I watched as the red spread across the floor, blending in with the crushed ladybug dye in our hand knotted rug from Kuşadasi.

Desirae's hand slid down my arm and took the steel sculpture from me. It clattered to the floor behind us. She slid around to face me, lifting my chin to look at the cut on my neck, pulling my eyes away from the mess I'd made.

My jaw trembled, throat tight and dry and raw. "I'm fine."

"Amuri..." Artie had managed to get herself sitting upright again, still attached to the metal frame. Specks of blood dotted her cheek. Blue eyes wide and wild. And in awe.

"Kirby, listen to me." Desirae turned me back to face her. "I know your head is probably spinning right now, but I can only give you five minutes to get out of here, out of Bay City. Do you understand?"

Adrenaline rattled my body. I tried to absorb Desirae's words as the shock wore off and I came to my senses. "It—it was self-defense."

"I know, I know." She brushed the hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. "I should've known it was her—the funeral home receipts at the greenhouse, the connections to the body bank and the museum—I have proof now and can handle this mess for you. For both of you. But Greg and the team know Artie is still alive and they assume you've been helping her. They want to see her behind bars for the stolen artwork, for the money laundering, anything they can, but they will settle for you again if they have to."

"I've done nothing wrong," Artie insisted. The fear on her face, if it had even been that, had vanished, replaced with petulance instead. She had freed one of her hands and was cupping her forearm where it continued to bleed. "Desi, tell them I've been good. I'm trying."

The way Artie spoke to her with a tone of old familiarity made my body cringe. Before I could ask, Desirae answered for me. "We were roommates. Before she got kicked out of VCU and ended up back home here."

"Roommates?" But I knew what that meant. I could feel the tension between them. "You've actually been after her the whole time, haven't you?"

"It's a lot more complicated than that. But yes." She nodded, rubbing her thumb over my knee. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth, Kirby."

"Wait, what about your husband?"

"She knows where he is." Desirae looked past me at Artemisia. "I'm hoping with me letting you both go, she'll reciprocate my compassion."

But Artie only sharpened her eyes, lips pursed.

"Kirby, I doubt I was the only one nearby who heard the fireworks. I have to call this in."

Legs still weak, I pushed to my feet and managed to stay upright. The heavy metallic smell of blood clung to my nostrils. Already, it had begun to dry on my hands. I stumbled to the sink and twisted the handle of the faucet, scrubbing the red away beneath scalding water, rinsing my face til it was raw. Blood still saturated the mauve dress, but I could change once we got to Pitruzza. Grabbing my phone from the island and a knife from the block, I hurried to Artie's side to cut her free, but my eyes fell to the floor where the dark pool had crept to her feet. I'd never seen blood so black before.