My vision cleared as I looked at the wall. At the cutout from Teen Vogue I’d hung there all those years ago. The image of a small girl locked in a cage and not allowed to leave a mansion of horrors. Those stars in the frame had been my only escape. As I continued to reminisce about the art I’d felt drawn to, I was reminded of that night when I’d made love beneath the stars.
Of finding a home.
And I knew . . .
We were all wrong about Cassius.
Maybe he had taken the Glassman children from that house, but he would never kill them.
No.
Even when he believed me to be the biological child, he had never hurt me.
Those children were still alive.
Scrambling out of my room, I ran through the door and down the hall. My breathing was heavy and faltering as I took the stairs at breakneck speed, almost tripping. Desperate to get to a phone. When I barged into my father’s office, I was grateful to find it empty.
The landline was the only phone that didn’t require a code, so I lifted the receiver and dialed Cassius’s number with a shaky hand, needing to speak with him.
“Hello,” a familiar lilt answered.
“Cassius?”
“It’s Ridley. Anya?” He sounded confused.
“You have his phone?”
“He wanted to make sure you could speak with one of us. But . . . I thought Cassius would be with you by now?”
“Is he coming here? I’m in the Garden District.” The place you dropped me off.
“No, that wasn’t the plan.”
“I need to speak with him.” Needed to tell Cassius I knew with all my heart he would never hurt the Glassman’s children. I needed to tell him I loved him. That I believed in him.
“He’s not with me.”
“Does he have the children?” I swallowed my dread.
“What children?”
“Can you tell him to call me if I give you this number?” I pleaded.
My emotions were scrambled and then burst like a dam breaking with nothing to hold it back.
The line went silent.
“Are you there? Ridley?”
“I don’t understand.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Aren’t you meeting him? That’s what he told me.”
“Meeting him where?” I whispered, my trepidation heavy.
“The swamp . . . at the other end of the estate.”
“His place? Why does he think that?”
“That’s where you told him you’d meet. He said you texted him from your father’s phone. He gave me his cell just in case, because he wouldn’t have service there. That way if you needed to speak with him . . .” He inhaled sharply. “Anya. You’re the one who texted him, right?”
The phone dropped from my hand.
Cassius
After grabbing the duffel bag from the back of my car, I pulled the door shut.
The gold was heavy to carry.
The thick night air was sticky, sweat causing the back of my shirt to cling.
Leaving the car sheltered by a towering oak tree, I headed for the edge of the swamp.
The only illumination came from my flashlight as I held it out before me to lead the way. The ground scattered with creatures. Now and again, the fake fluorescence reflected their glassy stares.
It wouldn’t be long now.
I’d finally have Anya back.
This was where I’d brought her.
This dense swamp where I’d confessed all I’d done. Lain myself open and cut myself wide to let in the light, making myself vulnerable.
I allowed her to know everything because I’d needed her to grasp the extent of all I had done. More importantly, why.
Even now, I doubted she’d be able to love all those parts of me I couldn’t love myself.
Maybe it was the hour, but the terrain felt jarring this time. Even as I respected the marshland. Even as I knew it well and braved what lurked.
As my shoes crunched over the thick moss, it no longer transported me back to my youth. No, in my mind, I could only see Anya’s face.
Those memories of what had happened before all those years ago, fading. What had once held a visceral revulsion with this stank smell that had made me gag now held no power over me.
Though I still had to fight against the foliage to get to the location I’d agreed to meet her in the text she’d sent:
“Cassius, I need to see you. Where’s the gold?”
“I hid it in the swamp,” I’d answered.
“Meet me there.”
“Where we met before? At the edge where Stephen once took me. The place I showed you?”
“I remember.”
Anya had changed the way I felt about this place.
Now I could see the beauty of the marshland. In turn, I’d hoped to change her mind about it, too. Maybe even lift some of the fear off this place.
She wasn’t here, however. My body didn’t need her here to remember how she’d made me feel.
How she’d comforted me.
How she’d helped me.
She changed me completely that night.
A night much like this—with all the familiarity of a Louisiana aura. The landscape was draping the trees in endless moss. I knew this marshland well because I had played here as a boy. Over there, I’d fished for largemouth bass. Harkening back to the days a teenager had once found adventure here—but all that had been snatched away.
The squawk of a bird drew me back to why I was here. The call of a heron, maybe?
Retracing my steps, I headed toward the boat we’d left that day. The same one we’d promised to come back to soon.
The same place Stephen had brought me all those years ago. I found the small motorboat where we’d tethered it to a cypress tree. The clearing up ahead was a good place to wait.
Unzipping the duffel bag, I revealed what lay within the fabric, then flung it unceremoniously into the base of the boat. It creaked against the weight of the bars.
Checking my watch for the millionth time.
Scanning the swampland with that glare of my torchlight. Over the bracken, over the dark, murky waters, the shine of Spanish moss reflecting. The glint of silver eyes, the sound of scurrying, of hiding away.
Anya, it’s going to be okay.
I needed her to listen while I explained how I had changed. How I would give up this bloodlust for her. I would do anything for Anya.
Time slowed.
The soft melody of the swamp my only company. Insects buzzing and the water rippling, the creaking of the boat. An insect bite on my forearm was easy enough to ignore.
We could live a new life. One in which the past no longer haunted us. It would be an opportunity to carve out a fresh beginning.
Lost in my own thoughts, I was eager for this to be over.
The familiar crunch of the wet grassland breaking beneath steps sounded, emanating from the movement of heavy soles.
His steps.
I turned quickly, and as expected, Stephen stepped out into the opening with his gun drawn. His flashlight in his other hand. I raised my arm to shield my eyes from the glare. Both of us lowering our flashlights in a temporary showdown.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, his voice breaking above the marsh song. “I’m meeting someone.”
“Back there!” He pointed toward where I’d parked. “You were meant to meet her back there.”