“Your little stunt with Lourdes is going to get him punished. You knew he would try to save her. How could you put him in danger?”
“Elias?” I ask, suddenly terrified that something’s happened to him. That Kenneth has happened to him. “Is he all right?”
“He won’t be for long,” Catherine says. Her face twists in disgust; her hatred devours me. “At the very least Kenneth is going to kick him out of the party, and then he’ll be stuck with the fucking help.”
Joshua’s lips tighten, and Catherine looks sideways at him without apology. She crosses her thin arms over her chest, turning back to me. “You don’t understand,” she says. “He can be locked away for a long time, just like that goddamn housekeeper.” She stops, slitting her eyes. “Did Lourdes put you up to it?” she asks suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“Did she ask you to get Eli? I swear”—Catherine shakes her head—“that maid has been trying to steal him for as long as I can remember. She’s obsessed with him. She doesn’t care who his family is. She doesn’t even care about what Kenneth will do to him.”
“You’re being paranoid,” Joshua says, watching the door like he’s waiting for Kenneth to walk in at any moment. “Maybe you’re the one who’s obsessed.”
“Go to hell,” Catherine says, barely acknowledging him. Joshua shifts his eyes to her.
“I think I’m already there,” he mutters.
The first hint of a smile crosses Catherine’s lips, and she quickly tries to hide it before speaking to me again. “Have you seen him?” she asks, less hostile. “Since Kenneth returned, have you seen Elias?” Her voice is heavy with concern.
“No.”
Catherine’s reaction is immediate and she looks pleadingly at Joshua. He’s quick to console her.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Cathy,” he says. “Kenneth will still want him at the party. He’s too important.”
“He won’t let this go,” she says, her beautiful face pulled in agony. “And if he knows I’m talking to her right now—”
“Yeah, about that,” I snap. “You brought me up here. You know Kenneth is . . .” It’s too crazy to say out loud, but I do it anyway. “Kenneth is a ghost or something. And Joshua is talking about the Ruby letting people leave.” Catherine appears bored while I’m trying to put together the pieces in any sort of coherent explanation. Helplessness sinks my stomach. “But I couldn’t get out the front door,” I say. “Can you?”
Catherine’s posture dips, caught off guard by the question. “No,” she responds quietly. “None of us can leave. If you go out through the garden, you can get as far as the back wall. Joshua can make it to the driveway—but guests stop at the door. Unless you’re one of the other ones. They come and go as they please.”
“Other ones?” My heart leaps.
“The ones who don’t notice us. They’re on their own plane, kept separate. I’m sure you’ve seen them: stuck up and rude? The Ruby doesn’t touch them. But to us”—she looks over to Joshua, despair tainting her features—“she can be a real bitch sometimes. We don’t try to leave anymore. We’re all trapped here together, Audrey, so quit causing a stir. Play your part and you may even get to go home.”
“And what is my part? How long have you all been here?” I ask. “How long will I be here?”
“Forever,” Joshua says.
I gasp. “Forever? I . . . I can’t stay here. I’m not staying here!”
Catherine shakes her head. “Audrey’s on the thirteenth floor,” she points out. Joshua raises his eyebrows in surprise and then mutters something under his breath. Catherine turns back to me. “Kenneth can’t hurt you so long as the Ruby protects you. Follow the rules, eat dinner and swim in the pool, run around with Eli all you want. But you don’t belong here, Audrey,” she tells me coldly. “Hopefully, you’ll be gone by morning.”
“I’m not waiting until morning,” I tell her. “Listen, I don’t know what my floor or any of you have to do with this, but I’m getting my family and I’m getting out of here. Tonight.”
Catherine groans like I’ve just said the most annoying thing possible. “Yeah, well, good luck with that. But if you’re going to be reckless, keep Elias out of it. You have no idea what Kenneth is capable of.”
“I saw him choking Lourdes!”
Catherine laughs. “That’s a slap on the wrist. You haven’t seen the pain he can inflict. You’d better hope you never see it. Now,” she continues, “you look horrid. I hope you didn’t get blood on any of my things. Wash up and I’ll give you something to wear.” She puts her hand on her hip and surveys her room like a curtain might be a good choice. “I’m embarrassed for you,” she adds.