Layla had a hard time pulling her attention from Rose’s lizard arm up to the devil’s sweet twinkling smile. The flecks of blood on the woman’s chin were distracting, too.
How did she get down here? How did she get past Segue’s front gate?
Those poor soldiers.
“Can you please open the door?” Rose had a slight Southern accent.
“Sure,” Layla said, blinking against a sudden dizzy spell. “Hold on a sec.” She looked up at the ceiling to address the security system. “Override code three, eight . . .”
Wait. What the hell was she doing?
“That’s right,” Rose prompted. “Just open the door. I’ve so looked forward to meeting you.”
Layla wasn’t as enthusiastic, but in a dizzy swim, the next number in the code, two, slipped out regardless. She bit her lips. She’d been warned that Rose would have extraordinary abilities. Angels could read minds; obviously devils could manipulate them. How . . . devilish.
Okay. Steady . . . Think.
Layla took a deep breath and shouted, “One, two, three!” Any numbers would do, as long as they were incorrect. One incorrect entry and the system would default to locked. Thank you, Adam.
“Open the door, honey.”
“I can’t. I just tripped the lock.” Layla grabbed the counter to stop the room from spinning.
I’m in a wraith examination cell. It’s designed to hold an impossibly strong and supernatural creature captive. It can hold out a devil. Maybe.
“Well, that’s inconvenient. Mr. Thorne’s security has been difficult before,” Rose said. “And here I just painted my nails.”
Layla focused on the claw. The nails were in fact a saccharine pink. “Sorry.”
Rose’s voice turned cold. “You don’t sound sincere.”
The room hazed. “I’m not.”
Rose’s eyes glittered and her lizard arm drew back and smacked the transparent wall. Hard.
Layla stumbled back against the counter in surprise, but the wall held. Didn’t even shudder with the impact. Thorne security was the best.
The monster claw hit the wall again.
Heart in her throat, Layla fumbled through the drawer for a weapon. She had to be ready. She pulled out some kind of surgical cleaver. That would do.
Rose sweetly tilted her head, as if to acknowledge the necessity of the knife, but hit the wall still harder. Nothing.
She turned, wrenched a seat from the theater, and threw it at the wall.
Nothing.
The transparent partition seemed impenetrable. Layla loved the room. She could even get used to the smell.
“I have a suggestion,” Rose drawled, all sugar. “You obviously want to stay in there alone, with the door locked. I understand completely and would love to compromise. How about I stay out here, like you want, and you draw that there blade across your throat.”
Again the dizziness, but Layla knew that the wall would hold. She was safe. And Rose’s solution sounded so reasonable. Everyone got what they wanted. Layla in, Rose out. Layla dead.
Wait a second. . . .
“Don’t worry, honey,” Rose said. “You won’t even feel it.”
Layla threw the knife on the counter. Flexed her hand to get rid of the cold of the handle.
“Look at me, darlin’.”
Layla’s gaze was forced to Rose’s blue eyes. An oily shiver went down Layla’s spine. How could someone so nice be so awful?
Rose’s voice lowered with compassion. “Honey, it’s better this way. I think you know that.”
No.
“Besides, you’re supposed to already be dead. It’s like you’re stealin’ time, and that isn’t good.” Rose smiled, then gently said, “Go on now, slit your throat.”
No . . . The light of the room warped in Layla’s vision.
“I can see that you’re strong-willed, and I like that about you.” Rose’s pretty cheeks dimpled. “In any other circumstances, I know we’d be friends. But right now, you’re alone. Just as alone as alone can be.”
Layla shuddered.
“Why is that, honey? I think you know.”
Because no one wanted her. She’d always been alone.
Rose lowered her head in a confirmatory nod. “That’s right. I’m sorry to have to say it, but no one loves you.”
So it was true.
They wanted Kathleen back, that’s all.
“And no one wants you. Why else would you be stuck down here, when everyone else has left the area to the wraiths? Do you even have food? No toilet, I see.”
“They were protecting me.”
“Oh, honey.” Rose tsk-tsk-tsked her pity. “Couldn’t you just die? Why don’t you just die?”
“Stop it,” Layla said. “Why are you doing this? I never hurt you.”
“You are, though,” Rose said. “I have a man who loves me, who’s waiting for me to come home. Twelve years he’s been waiting, since my untimely passing. But I can’t until I deal with you. You’ve got nobody, and your life is already over. Holding on is just, well . . . it’s just sad. Pick up the knife and cut your gosh-darn throat.”
Stars filled Layla’s vision. No.