Chapter Eleven

When Katelina opened her eyes she saw only darkness.
Her initial response was panic, but a soothing numbness flowed over
it and left her in a strange vacuum of calm.
She climbed out of bed and turned the lights on.
Once safe in the electric glow, she headed to the bathroom and
examined the puncture marks on her shoulder. They were tightly
closed, but still hurt when she rubbed her hand across them. The
marks on her neck, from Jesslynn’s bite, were tiny dots and could
have passed for disappearing blemishes.
She changed from her nightgown into the pink dress
she’d worn yesterday. Her clothes and the ugly orange quilt were
still missing. Not that she missed the blanket, it was a reminder
of terrible things.
The bedroom door was locked from the outside, but
with the sun gone she wouldn’t have left anyway. Not only had she
promised Jorick she’d stay, but she didn’t want to run into any of
the house’s occupants. She wasn’t even sure she even wanted to see
Jorick, except that he was her only lifeline.
She made the bed and tidied the room, but it only
took a few minutes. With nothing else to do, she flopped on the bed
and picked up the musty book she’d started yesterday. She hoped to
lose herself in the Victorian romance where the hero left the young
virginal heroine flowers in the moonlight. It beat the reality she
was living in. She found that she had a lot more sympathy for the
insane than she used to. When real life was unbearable, why stay
there?
She was just starting to enjoy the book when she
heard the door click. She looked up to see Jorick carrying a wad of
white cloth and something small wrapped in plastic.
“Hello,” he said with no enthusiasm. His face gave
the impression that he was thinking of something unpleasant.
“Hello,” she replied as she swung into a sitting
position. Her first impulse was to ask what was wrong, but she knew
he’d just dismiss her question, or take it to mean something beyond
casual concern.
“Here, they left this for you outside the door.” He
held up the white cloth with one hand. “And I took the liberty of
fetching you something to eat.” He held out a gas station sandwich
wrapped in plastic, two halves of potential food poisoning between
bread.
“Thank you,” she mumbled unenthusiastically. She
took the clothing first. The dress’ cut was similar to the one she
wore, though the skirt was longer and it bore no broach.
“Let me go change,” she said, a nod from him the
only indication he’d heard her. As she crossed the room she was
conscious of his gaze following her. She shut the bathroom door
firmly, though part of her felt as if he could see through it,
anyway.
Changed, she emerged to find Jorick leaning on one
of the bedposts, a grin of approval on his face. “Yes?” She
unconsciously smoothed the skirt and waited for his sarcastic
comment.
“I have to say that I prefer white.” His grin turned
into a full smirk.
“Interesting, since you only wear black.” She
stopped next to him, her eyes narrowed inquiringly. “Do you even
change clothes? Or is there a closet somewhere with no color in
it?”
He shrugged and his eyes danced with mischief. “I
like to wear black, but I always appreciate a woman in a white
dress.” His grin grew, revealing the pointed teeth that made her so
uncomfortable. “Or at least who was wearing a white
dress.”
She brushed aside his innuendo, and took the
sandwich from him. His fingers lingered against her hand for a
moment longer than necessary, but she made herself ignore it.
She willed the sandwich to turn into something
edible, but it refused, so she gave it a try. Jorick stared at her
while she ate, and finally she exploded testily, “What?”
“Nothing,” he answered quickly and crossed his arms
over his chest.
Her eyebrows arched inquiringly. “You’re
staring.”
“So? You forget I haven’t eaten in a long, long
time.” He continued to watch her, a sort of morbid fascination on
his face.
His comment made her wonder how old he really was.
He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties at the most, but if
he was immortal he might be any age.
“How long?”
“Too long.” The words sounded like a sad sigh. He
straightened up and quietly changed the subject, “Oren is getting
ready to go to the meeting. We should know something by the end of
the night.”
“Are you going with him?”
Jorick shifted. “Yes and no. I’ll leave with him,
but…” She waited expectantly and he finished, “Oren’s contact is
not my contact. I won’t be at the actual meeting.”
“Ah. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
He gave her a puzzled expression. “Why wouldn’t it
be?”
Her stare said, “duh!” but he didn’t seem to get it.
“Um, haven’t you ever watched a spy movie? The one with the enemy
contacts has them for a reason.”
“Are you suggesting that Oren…”
“Is planning to betray you? Yeah, I am.” She
finished her sandwich and tossed the wrapper in the trash.
“Why on earth would he do that? It’s his war.”
“I thought you said it was his wife’s. If I had a
wife like that I’d play the enemy camp, too.”
Jorick chuckled. “Jesslynn is… not what I would
choose in a mate, but to suggest that…” He laughed again. “I think
you’ve watched too many movies.”
She shrugged it off, but she wasn’t convinced. There
was something about Oren that put her on guard, and her instincts
were usually right.
Sure they are. That’s how I ended up here with a
vampire.
 
Jorick stayed and talked to her about nothing in
particular; the weather, the book she was reading, whether Jesslynn
would really look good in the white dress. He was just getting
ready to leave for Oren’s meeting, when the door opened and
Jesslynn’s son poked his head in.
“Alexander,” Jorick greeted the child.
He took the acknowledgement as an invitation and
came in, the crazy woman-child right behind him, though Katelina
wasn’t sure if she was a protector or a pet. The pink corduroy
overalls and pastel striped shirt made her look more a child than
ever, as did the vacant smile on her face. Alexander climbed onto
the bed and, as if taking a silent order, she dropped to the floor
at his feet.
“What do you want?” Jorick met the boy’s eyes, but
Alexander refused to look away, his face stubbornly set. Katelina
didn’t know if there was some psychic battle of wills going on
between the two, or if it was just a common stare down, but in the
end the child surrendered.
“I have come to see the human,” he said simply, his
eyes on his lap.
“Why?” Jorick continued to stare at him as if trying
to silently communicate his authority. His spine was straight and
his stance was one of a wary warrior expecting an attack.
“I wish to speak to her,” Alexander replied quietly.
His lack of information made Katelina nervous, especially with the
blonde woman-child seated so close.
“The human belongs to me,” Jorick said sternly,
which drew an incensed look from Katelina. “You must ask my
permission first.”
“Fine. May I have your permission?” His voice was
tight, annoyed, like a whiny child who’s been told he can’t have an
ice cream cone unless he asks nicely. Katelina shuddered, realizing
she’d just compared herself to food. Somehow, given the nature of
the house’s occupants, it was an unsettling thought.
“It depends,” Jorick replied. “Do either of you – ”
he glanced at Bethina for the first time since she’d entered the
room “ – intend to spill any blood?” His glare seemed sufficient to
see through to their souls, let alone what they were thinking.
Alexander looked perturbed by the insinuation. “If
you mean do we intend to bite her the way mother did, then the
answer is no.”
“I suggest that you don’t.” Jorick glanced toward
the door uncomfortably.
Katelina tried to communicate her silent thoughts to
Jorick. She didn’t want to be left alone with them, not
under any circumstances. She fought the urge to cling to Jorick and
beg him to take her with him, despite the fact she knew he was one
of them.
The thought unsettled her further, so she dismissed
it by telling herself that he’d never tried to drink her blood.
That made him safe - a lot safer than these two. Alexander might be
a child, but she was sure that in his nonhuman state he’d be
stronger than she was.
However, she refused to actually throw herself at
Jorick, and his obsession with the door made it clear he didn’t
have time for a discussion. He made Alexander swear oaths against
causing her any harm and, after threatening both the vampires’
lives, he left hurriedly.
Alexander waited, then stole quietly across the room
and peeked out into the hallway. Satisfied, he closed the door and
nodded to Bethina. She stood obediently and took up a guard post in
front of it, which made Katelina all the more uneasy.
Alexander climbed back on the bed and studied
Katelina. His scrutiny made her feel even more uncomfortable, but
he broke it by asking gravely, “Do you want to play with us?”
She stared at his small, pointed face in surprise.
She found it hard to believe that the pale strange vampire child,
who only spoke to certain people, had gone to all that trouble
just to ask her to play?
“What?”
“I asked if you would like to play with Bethina and
me,” he repeated patiently. The woman child smiled at the mention
of her name. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had anyone new to play
with. I like playing with humans. You always have such interesting
ideas.” He smiled so that his miniature fangs gleamed.
“Oh?” Katelina swallowed. She found herself
wondering if Bethina’s position was to guard anyone coming in or to
keep her from getting out, which was what the logical portion of
her brain told her to do.
“Oh yes!” he enthused, oblivious to her discomfort.
“In fact, our newest game came from a human – it’s called dungeon.
It’s a lot of fun, I promise! We haven’t gotten to play it in a
long time,” he added sadly but then perked up instantly. “Do you
want to play?”
“How do you play this game... dungeon?” she tried to
keep her voice calm, though she wanted to scream. My God, how had
she ended up practically babysitting child vampires?
“Oh, it’s simple. We go down to the dungeon and
torture the prisoner.”
The premise sounded horrible and she could guess
which of them would be the prisoner. “I’m not supposed to leave the
room,” she said quickly. She hoped that would be sufficient, but
she doubted it. The excuse that an adult “wasn’t allowed” to do
something rarely held any water with children.
“Oh. All right,” he sounded disappointed, but the
expected wheedling didn’t come, as if Jorick forbidding her from
something was perfectly normal. “It’s just as well,” he added
morosely. “I saw the dark woman leave the day before yesterday, and
I think she took it with her. They were all talking about moving
it.”
“Moving what?”
“The prisoner,” Alexander mumbled, more to himself
than her. “We need Patrick – ”
He got no further before Katelina gasped,
“Patrick?”
“Yes, he’s the one who made the game up. He had some
other good ones, didn’t he Bethina?” The vampiress nodded and
Alexander asked almost sadly, “I wonder when he’s coming back?”
Words escaped Katelina. He couldn’t possibly mean
her Patrick, could he? What would he have been doing there?
No, she told herself firmly. It couldn’t be the same
Patrick. It had to be a coincidence.
“Blocks,” Bethina said suddenly, and the single word
brought Katelina back to the present.
Alexander looked thoughtful and then nodded his
agreement. As if by silent order, Bethina hurried out of the room,
presumably to fetch the toys.
Left alone with the boy, Katelina fought the urge to
ask him about Patrick. It would do her no good to delve into it,
and she knew it. As a distraction she chose another topic of
conversation. “Who is she?”
Alexander looked confused and then seemed to realize
what she meant. “That’s Bethina,” he answered and shrugged his
small shoulders.
“No, I mean is she related to you? Before she
became...” she still couldn’t say it. She wondered if she had a
mental block?
“Oh. She was my friend.” He sighed sadly. “She used
to make up the cleverest little songs and she was so funny.” He
smiled wanly. “She used to come babysit us sometimes, and then she
got a permanent job here. Mother liked her because she didn’t
‘cause trouble’. Of course, I just thought she was fun.” His voice
dropped to a serious whisper, “I’ll tell you a secret if you
promise not to tell anyone. Especially not Jorick.”
“All right,” Katelina replied slowly. She wasn’t
sure she wanted to hear the secrets of a vampire child.
“It’s my fault. What happened to Bethina.” He sighed
and his small shoulders sagged under the weight of some burden, his
eyes turned sorrowful; eyes far too old for the cherub face they
were set in. “I tried to turn her myself. She agreed, of course. I
thought it would be wonderful to have Bethina and her funny songs
forever and ever, and she was so sick! But I couldn’t do it - I’m
not strong enough.” His voice took a bitter tone. “Mother heard her
screams and came to find me bent over her, crying. She finished it
for me, but she said it was too late and that it ruined her. Mother
said it locked her mind away because she stood on the threshold of
death for too long, and that she will always be the way she is now.
That’s why I try to take care of her, because I know it’s my
fault.”
He looked so sad and, for a moment, in her pity,
Katelina almost forgot he wasn’t a mortal child. She could see the
scene in her mind: the blonde girl laying on the floor, screaming
in her death agony, red blood running down from the puncture wounds
to stain her light hair. The terrified face of Alexander looming
above her like a ghost, tears streaking his face. The dark Jesslynn
coming in, her face filled with terror and then fury when she saw
what was happening...
“I see,” Katelina finally managed to say as she
banished the disturbing pictures from her mind.
“I know it’s my fault. And I’m being punished for
it. I have eternity to be with Bethina but never hear one of her
songs or stories again.” He looked at his lap, his adult eyes
bright with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say to
this confession, or why he’d chosen to share it with her.
“This used to be her room,” he added. “When she was
still human. That’s why it has a bathroom.” He gazed around it
sadly. “Purple is Bethina’s favorite color.”
“It is pretty,” she said for lack of anything else.
An uncomfortable silence fell and she tried to think of something
to say. He was just a kid, but children usually knew things, and it
wasn’t like she had anyone else to ask. “Jorick’s very grim?”
Alexander nodded his agreement. “He seems that way.
I don’t know him very well. He used to come around all of the time,
but then he moved away. He still came now and then until one day he
stopped altogether. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”
“Was he always so serious and closed lipped?”
The boy looked thoughtful. “I think so,” he answered
thoughtfully and then he smirked. “Last night Father told Mother
that Jorick comes from a different time, one where men handled
everything and that he forgets that other people don’t do that. He
also said that Jorick is trying too hard to protect you by keeping
you ignorant and that he thinks if he really wanted to do that then
he should have left you alone altogether instead of telling you
some of it. Mother said she can’t figure out what he’s thinking
anyway, and that he’s only interested because he likes to take care
of the weak–” He stopped midsentence and looked suddenly
uncomfortable.
Katelina sighed heavily. “It’s all right.”
Alexander relaxed. “She said you remind her of
‘her’.”
A strange look crossed Katelina’s face. “Who?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But whoever ‘her’ is,
she’s someone mother disapproved of.”
Katelina started to ask why he thought that, but, as
if on cue, Bethina reappeared. She lugged a large box of
multi-colored blocks - the same ones Katelina had seen them playing
with in front of the fire the first night.
Though she wasn’t sure she wanted to let the
conversation end, Alexander considered it over. They dumped the
blocks out on the floor. As time moved past, Katelina’s discomfort
slowly diminished. The pair reminded her of her cousin’s kids, and
she almost enjoyed herself. It had been years since she’d sat on
the floor to play silly games. She nearly forgot that Alexander
wasn’t a normal child, that he and his companion were really
immortal monsters.
Jorick returned hours later. He was clearly
surprised by what he found but, like Father coming home after a day
at work, he made them dismantle their latest creation. Then he
shooed Alexander and Bethina out of the room, blocks in tow. As
soon as the door was shut, he dropped onto the bed and lay back
with his hands beneath his head and his ankles crossed. His
expression was decidedly grim.
Katelina stood next to the bed and waited for him to
explain his mood. Apparently the meeting hadn’t gone as he’d hoped,
or maybe Oren really had betrayed them. When he didn’t speak, she
prompted, “Well?”
He stared at the underside of the canopy. His voice
was flat, emotionless, “Michael is dead. As I suspected, he made it
out of the basement. He was kept alive until he could tell Claudius
what he wanted to know, and then he was slaughtered – burned to
death.” Jorick shuddered involuntarily.
“Oh.” Given what Jorick had said of Claudius she
wasn’t really surprised, and she didn’t feel any sympathy for the
thing she’d seen hanging in the basement. It wasn’t just the memory
of his threats, but what he’d done to Patrick. Her chest tightened
as a vision of Patrick came to her; his smile broad, his blue eyes
twinkling as he asked her if she was planning to stay the
night.
She shook the memories away as Jorick went on.
“Michael told them about my involvement, but they already knew
that. Then he told them you were there.” He hesitated as though he
had a hard time finding words. “They went to your house, seeking
you, but you weren’t there. While they tore things apart for clues,
someone else came; a dark haired woman with pale eyes.”
“Who?” She tried to figure out who would have been
at her house and mused over the description; a woman with dark hair
and pale eyes… A name popped up, but she tried to ignore it. Not
Sarah. No. She refused to even think it. They couldn’t have done
anything to Sarah. She was like a rock, old reliable Sarah who
nagged her about quitting smoking. Sarah, who had been willing to
cancel her date with Brad to make sure she was all right, possibly
the last date she ever had.
Her voice was barely a whisper and, though she
didn’t want to, she had to ask. “Sarah?”
“They took her with them,” he explained without
really answering. “They thought they’d found you. Once they brought
her before Claudius, of course, they found out that it wasn’t
you.”
Katelina’s breath stuck in her throat and her hands
trembled. “Was it Sarah? Is she all right?”
“They aren’t torturing her anymore.”
Her mind whirled as it tried to deny what she knew
to be true. He couldn’t really mean that Sarah was... she couldn’t
be…. “Dead? She is, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s dead.” He sighed heavily and made the
sign of the cross.
“Oh, God,” she muttered numbly. She dropped to the
floor and stared up at Jorick’s face – at the light reflecting from
his perfect hair and his pale skin, so smooth and flawless – and
all she could feel was pain. First Patrick and now Sarah. How much
more did she have to lose because of something she’d never been
involved in? How many people had to die so Claudius could recover
someone he considered nothing more than a possession?
Jorick rolled his head to the side and his dark eyes
fell to her folded form. “I’m sorry, but at least it wasn’t you.”
Though he meant his words to be comforting, they fell short.
Tears slipped from her eyes as the full impact
crushed her. “I should have been there!” She violently slammed her
fists into her legs. “I could have stopped it!”
“How? Can you defeat vampires now?”
“I could have at least warned her! If only you’d let
me use the phone at the gas station!” Her shoulders shook with
silent sobs.
He swung into a sitting position, his hands in his
lap. “I didn’t stop you. In fact, I told you to use it. But even if
you had, what would you have said?” His voice rose an octave as he
imitated her, “‘Oh, hey, there are some vampires after me, so watch
out’?” He ran a frustrated hand through his long, dark tresses “Did
it occur to you to warn her?”
“Well... no, but...” She stopped mid-sentence, still
angry. He was right, what could she have done? She couldn’t have
fought them and she wouldn’t have warned Sarah if she’d gotten to
call. She dug her fingernails into her palms. “I’m glad he’s
dead.”
“Who?” Jorick’s head came up in surprise.
“Michael,” her voice was venomous. “If he weren’t
already dead, I’d kill him myself! This is all his fault! He killed
Patrick. He got me dragged into this. Now Sarah’s dead, I can’t go
home...” Sobs choked out the rest of her sentence. Tears of rage
and pain spilled out of her eyes and fell down her pale cheeks.
Jorick’s hesitation was palpable, as if he was
afraid to touch her, but he finally laid an uneasy hand on her
shoulder. “It’s all right.”
“Is it?” she demanded between tears. She was
waiting, begging, for that sanitizing numbness to come and swallow
the pain. It had been doing so ever since she’d walked into
Patrick’s apartment and found his mangled body, torn and bleeding
on the living room carpet, and it didn’t fail her now.
“How did they know it wasn’t me?” Her voice sounded
hollow and foreign to her own ears. “How did they know what they
were looking for?”
“Troy said it wasn’t you,” he answered carefully. He
let his hand drop back into his lap.
“Who’s Troy? And how did he know what I look like?”
Goose bumps crawled up her spine as she thought about the
implications.
“He’s one of the few Claudius still trusts.”
Jorick’s refusal to meet her eyes set alarm bells
off in her head. “How does he know what I look like? How did they
know where I lived?”
“I already told you once, if Patrick knew then they
knew.” He let out an unhappy breath. “Besides, Troy has been
there.” He closed his eyes and absently massaged his forehead.
“He’s seen you.”
“What? How could he... He was at my house?” She
didn’t like where this was going. The thought made her feel sick
and violated. She took a steadying breath, and then she remembered
Jorick mentioning Troy last night. Something to do with an
“unfortunate incident” where they discovered Jorick’s involvement.
No.
“And how do you know?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pressed his
fingers silently between his closed eyes. When he did speak, his
voice was slow and resigned, “Because, I was there, too.”
“What? You were at my house? When? What were you
doing there?”
“I was keeping an eye on you.” He finally met her
gaze.
“You mean you were spying on me? Why?”
“Patrick asked me to. He suspected something was up
even before Michael admitted that Claudius knew about you, so I
spent a couple months keeping an eye on things.” He shrugged, but
his fidgeting hands belied the nonchalant attitude. “Troy showed up
one night and we had a bit of a tussle... he never came back
again.”
“That was the unfortunate incident you mentioned
last night? That Troy caught you spying on me? God! You spied on
me! For ‘a couple of months’?” She couldn’t believe the
conversation. How could he think she’d trust him when he’d spied on
her? “When were you planning on telling me?”
“I wasn’t, particularly.” His eyes flicked to her
and then away again. “I didn’t think it pertained to our current
situation.”
“Well, it does!” She pointed to the door. “Out!”
Horrific thoughts of what he might have witnessed during those
months flashed through her mind. Had he watched her dress? Watched
her sleep, shower? Watched her and Patrick together?
“Look, what I’m trying to say – ”
“I said get out!” she roared. “I don’t want to talk
to you right now!”
He stood up, surprised and angry. “I only did it
because Patrick asked me to!” he shouted back. “Don’t you think I
would have rather been somewhere more exciting than the damned
apartment across the street?”
“You were across the street?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I had to sleep somewhere
nearby, after all. There was little risk in the daytime of them
harming you, but-”
She cut him off. “But what? Were you sitting over
there with binoculars like a regular stalker?” She shivered as she
thought of all the times her eyes had been drawn to that apartment
opposite hers, all the times she’d wondered who lived there and
what they were doing; the lonely nights when she’d taken comfort in
the light burning in the windows just across the street.
“Of course not,” he replied impatiently. “I had to
be closer than that in case something happened.”
“How close? Were you sitting perched outside my
window like a vulture?”
“Sometimes,” he conceded reluctantly and she
gaped.
“My God! And what about when I wasn’t home?”
He didn’t sound especially apologetic, “Some of the
time I followed you.”
“Some of the time? Holy – and what did you do when
you didn’t? Hang out in my living room? Try on my clothes?”
He rolled his eyes and snapped, “No! Why would I do
that?” He took a deep breath and calmed himself quickly. “I didn’t
like invading your privacy any more than you like having it
invaded. I only needed phone numbers and – ”
Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Phone numbers? So
you were in my house to get – Is that how you got my work
number?”
“Yes,” he said dismissively. “I – ”
“You were in my fucking house, watching me through
my fucking windows, following me around! My God! It’s like
something from the Lifetime Channel! You’re like a professional
stalker!”
He muttered something unintelligible before adding
loudly, “I am not a professional stalker.”
“No, of course not,” she sneered. “You’d have to be
up in the daytime for that – ” she broke off. “You were! You called
me in the daytime!”
“Yes,” he said tightly, fighting for patience. “We
can be awake in the daytime, but it drains a lot of energy, not to
mention it can be dangerous. We have to compensate – ”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means that it takes a good deal of blood to make
up for it, especially if we don’t sleep at all.”
Her voice was high and hysterical. “And how much is
that? A whole colony maybe?”
“No.” He scowled darkly. “One or two people’s worth
for the entire day, less for a few hours…”
Her lip curled in disgust. “And what did you do?
Turn into a bat and fly out there to meet me?”
“You’re being obstreperous,” he said impatiently. “I
can’t turn into a bat. I had to get a ride like everyone else.”
“With who? Huh?”
“Anthony,” Jorick answered coldly. “I doubt you know
him.”
“Patrick’s friend?” she gaped. “He knew?”
Jorick hesitated. “No. He thought I was
luggage.”
“Luggage?” she repeated angrily. “Luggage?”
Jorick took another deep breath. “Yes, I was in a
rather large trunk. I called him and asked him to take it to the
house on Farm Mill Road. He and some of his friends showed up and
did as I requested.”
“I can’t believe this,” she muttered. “All of this
just to spy on me!”
Jorick lost his patience. “I wasn’t spying! Don’t
you think I had better things to do with my time?”
“Evidently not,” she said coldly. She pulled her
knees up and hugged them to her chest, refusing to look at him.
“You obviously had a pretty free schedule – or else you thought it
would be amusing.”
He knelt down in front of her, trying to control the
anger dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t find it amusing.”
“Oh really?” She pulled away from him. “Then what?
Thrilling? A bit of a voyeur are you?”
With a growl he jerked to his feet. He started for
the door and stopped to turn back and shout, “Fine, you know what –
fine! Just sit in here and starve for all I care!” He stormed out
and slammed the door. The lock clicked loudly and then she heard
his angry footsteps pound away.
Alone, grief clutched her and refused to let go. She
buried her face against her knees. She couldn’t believe how
terribly wrong everything had gone. Sarah was dead and the only
person she had at the moment had spied on her and then lied many
times over. As sobs shook her, she was pretty sure she’d found the
limit that a person could take.