Darling Belle

Twelve

Midnight.

Curtains billowed, starlight slithered and crawled out the open window like a pale viper, curling over the clutter-ridden floor-in between the folds of misplaced tees, linens and woolen cardigans-stretching beyond the platform bed and the ivory, floral quilt that enveloped it. A thin layer of moon-blue bathed the room in its entirety, encompassing, cozy, and almost romantic.

Maisie laid beneath warm sheets, legs tangled, eyes heavy.

The breeze playfully whispered across her cheek, reminiscent of a tender breath, only colder. It would be so easy to use the coverlet as a rope, to tie it to a weighted surface and hurl it past the ledge. To throw herself over, and to climb down the fabric, knuckles white from the grip, biting autumn wind teasing her skin before folding itself around her as she slowly eased down the cord, friction burn rushing blood to the very tips of her fingers, the points of stirring grass needling the bottom of her feet as she neared the touch of earth, of soul and soil.

But the fable-vision ended there.

In her heart, she knew she mustn't try to escape. Not tonight. Maryjane was clever. Too shrewd to forget about a window.

This was a test.

She wouldn't fail it. Not without Mallory.

The heaviness in her gaze grew, grew, grew...

When she was little, she looked forward to sleeping. Everything was always better in her dreams.

Then: there was a creak, the pitter-patter of feet.

Her eyes shot open. Alert.

A tall shadow that stretched to the ceiling passed over the walls.

She sat upright. Heart beating erratically.

He severed the silence faster than she could scream. Blink. Breathe. 'Don't be afraid, it's only the devil,' his voice was low, and husky. Taunting.

Maisie recognized the unholy credence in his tone, she glanced to the spot the voice had materialized. And sure enough, he wore the face of Noah, Nico, and Nereus and the shadows.

She calmed down slightly. 'You don't look like a goat-headed monster with horns.' It's the only thing that came to her mind, half-asleep, his purpose was lost on her. Her own-stranded on an island.

He stepped out of the dark, sharpening into Noah, Nico, Nereus... 'Looks can be rather deceiving, aye?' His blue eye glowed. Nereus. Clothed in all-black. He lightly leaned against the headboard of her bed, looking down at her now. His scent-sickly sweet like licorice root-foxy. Without conscious thought, she leaned in closer. And she doesn't know why it's taken her this long to notice, but he had no pupil.

Is he blind?

He tilted his head, tsked. Reading her mind. 'I can see you perfectly well with one eye, love.'

Her pulse lurched, chin lifting, coming to her senses. 'You,' she gasped, an accusatory layer peeling the word. Flipping its message. You. Not him.

He quirked a brow, picking up on it. 'Were you expecting someone else?' Tease.

Her tongue stuck to her palate, then. Wordlessly, she stared up at him.

He lowered his head so their eyes were nearly level, whispering. 'Maybe you were waiting for Noah?' He smiled between a bout of silence. 'Nico?' A laugh in his voice.

'No,' she lied, eyes narrowed. Remembering that she was angry with him. He'd brought her here in the first place. Good did come out of it, slightly, she had weaved together a plan to save Mallory. But he didn't know that, he didn't bring her back here so she could play hero, that wasn't his purpose.