"Sabran," she said and Marie cocked her head.
"Sabran?"
The name didn't ring any bells, but obviously they were important to Naomie. Now to find out what she had done against this Sabran person.
"What did I do to him?"
Tears stood out in Naomie's eyes and she dashed her face with one hand, the knife dangling from the other.
"You abandoned him. And now you've forgotten him."
The fierceness returned to her face and her grip on the knife stabilized. "I'll make you pay for that. I'll carve out your heart so he may eat it like an apple."
Naomie was between her and the door which meant she was going to have to find some way to make her move without giving her game plan away. If she could get out the door, she would have the cover of darkness to hide in until Ray came back and then they could do something about Naomie's need to murder her. Hopefully, Ray would be back soon, but that depended on too many what ifs. Better to figure out some way to deal with this on her own.
She couldn't directly overpower her friend. If she believed in anything, Naomie believed in taking care of herself. The woman was in good physical condition, so a one-on-one wrestling match Marie would lose. So far, she had just been lucky. Relying on luck though meant deep trouble. However, whoever this was, Marie couldn't believe any longer that it was Naomie, might not know Naomie's body that well. Even as she considered her options, she tried to think of who Sabran was. The name felt familiar on her tongue, but nothing was immediately coming to mind.
Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of the knife splitting the air in an arc. Naomie had sliced at her while her mind wandered and Marie was only a moment fast enough to keep it from going through her face. A guttural growl issued from Naomie's lips.
"Be still," Naomie commanded. "I would have your life."
There was nothing to say in response to that. Marie simply sidled away, inching her way toward the far side of the table and proximity to the front door.
Was it locked? Would she be trapped there if it didn't yank open at her pull? Those things occurred to her and she took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the hand wielding the knife. Naomie bumped the table in her next rush and Marie took off for the door. It stuck as she tried to pull it free.
Marie turned just in time to see Naomie bearing down on her, one step at a time. With one hand fumbling at the lock, Marie watched her possible doom approach. The door opened inward, she couldn't get it open in time. The knife struck, hit the door as Marie opened it to defend herself, and slid off. Naomie screamed and slammed the knife against the door harder. The banging left a ringing in Marie's ears. Then she heard something amazing.
"Naomie, what are you doing?"
From her place behind the door, trapped in a corner, Marie could hear Ray running toward them. The banging stopped.
"You won't stop me," Naomie cried. Through the crack in the door, Marie could just barely see Naomie turning the knife on Ray who caught her hand while dropping the bag he had in his. The bag hit the ground with a thump and settled on its side. Inarticulate cries of frustration came from Naomie as she tried to drive the knife into Ray's chest while he held her away. A moment later, he'd reversed the hold and spun her around so that Naomie's back was to him and the knife in front of them.
"Naomie, stop it. Stop," Ray said.
Marie emerged from behind the door and grabbed the handle of the knife, wrenching it away from Naomie who hissed and spit at her.
"Naomie, please stop." Ray's arms held her tight, but that didn't keep Naomie from kicking and lashing out with her feet at Marie.
"She deserves to die. She deserves all manners of hell. I will not spare her."
"What's going on?" Ray asked.
"I don't know. Something about abandonment and Sabran," Marie said. "Let's get her back in the house before the neighbors call the cops."
With Naomie still kicking and thrashing, Ray walked her into the house and dumped her on the couch. Her dress was a mess; her hair had fallen out of its pins. Aside from the ash look of her face and the tremendous brightness of her eyes, she looked more like the real Naomie than she had all night, but that meant nothing.
"Now tell it to me again, who is Sabran," Marie said.
Naomie looked around as if she had never seen the living room before in her life, recentered herself on the couch, pressed her hands against the folds of her dress, and fixed a gaze of hate on Marie. Ray stood off to one side, the bag forgotten on the front lawn, his own shirt pulled from its place in his pants.
"You have no right--."
"I have every right; you just tried to stab me with my own kitchen knife."
"You deserve far worse for what you have done and I will not forgive you."
"I don't care if you're going to forgive me. I want my friend back. What have you done with her?"
A smile graced Naomie's lips but her eyes remained distant and cold.
"The dreams are more than that. They are prisons. I have escaped mine, but she will not."
Ray leaned in close and said,
"If you've hurt her, I will kill you."
The woman who was Naomie turned her smiling face on him and said in return,
"If you kill one of us, you will kill both of us."
"Tell me what is going on?" Marie asked.
"I have no reason to tell you anything. You are undeserving of aid."
"Ray, what are we going to do?" What could they do? Naomie was replaced by this imposter.
"If its dreams she wants, its dreams she'll have. Give her some of your sleeping pills."
The answer was so simple; Marie could only be surprised she hadn't thought of it first. Dreams. One had to sleep to dream.
"Okay," Marie got up and went into the bathroom. How were they going to get her to take them? Force them down her throat? That posed a different problem. With the cat already out of the bag, there would be no tricking her to take them. The idea of holding her down and forcing her to take them sat the wrong way with Marie. As she grabbed the bottle from the cabinet though, she steeled herself to what they were going to do. Naomie needed them. She had to find some way to help her best friend.
When she came back into the living room, Ray was sitting on the coffee table with his arms folded over his chest staring at their prisoner. For what it was worth, the prisoner stared right back. Marie shoved the bottle at him.
"You're going to have to get her to take them."
"With pleasure."
"You would poison me?"
"No, just put you to sleep. Then Naomie has a chance of getting out, doesn't she?"
The calm sureness slipped from the woman's face as true understanding dawned.
"No, she'll never escape. Not while I live."
"Don't make me reconsider my stance," Ray said shaking out a couple of pills. "What's the standard dosage on these?"
"I take two and I'm out like a light," Marie said.
"Then we'll give her three and wait for them to kick in."
"I won't let you give me anything." Then she clamped her lips shut, curling them into her mouth. Marie couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. Naomie looked like a petulant child told she had to eat her vegetables. Funny and not funny at the same time.
Cupping the pills in one hand, Ray moved to sit next to her. Naomie put her hands on his chest to hold him at arms' reach. He crushed in toward her, until they were close enough to kiss. Then he maneuvered one hand over her nose. Try as she might, she couldn't get him to let go. Finally, her mouth popped open. Ray gave her a few moments of breathing through her mouth before he clapped the hand with the pills over her lips.
Naomie gagged, but with her mouth and nose now covered she had little choice but to swallow. With that he let her go.
"There, now we wait."
"Where'd you learn to do that?"
"I didn't, just figured it out."
The woman on the couch fixed them with a hateful glare, but made no attempt to rise. Marie wat
ched her close for signs she might be falling asleep.
"Tell me more about these dream prisons?" Marie asked.
"I told you, I will not help you. You are unworthy of aid."
"Then help yourself," Marie said. "I can give you the antidote to those pills, but only if you'll tell me what's happened to Naomie."
Marie had no antidote for the sleeping pills, but she made the gamble willingly. Anything she could learn could be valuable.
Ray looked at her with an incredulous eye, but said nothing. He just crossed his arms over his chest again and looked grumpy, which played into Marie's hand just fine. The woman considered what she heard and opened her mouth once with nothing coming out, then the second time, she said,
"I only know that the dreams are meant to keep us apart. Anything to keep us from returning the master to his rightful place as lord."
"Who and lord of what?"
"Sabran, Lord of Kelvan. My love. The murdered prince." As she spoke, her eyelids drooped. On an empty stomach, the pills would not take long to work. "You murdered him and imprisoned his spirit."
"I know nothing of that."
"It makes you no less guilty of your crime. He shall feast on your heart when he is free and I will see to it he is." Though her eyelids flickered, Marie could see the determination in the woman's eyes. She meant what she said. If Marie could not stop her, she would feed her to this Sabran person. "Give me the antidote. I have answered your questions."
"No, you haven't."
But the woman no longer looked at Marie. Instead she fixated on Ray, going as far as reaching out to try and take his hand. He recoiled away.
"You have the skull," she said.
"What?" Marie said.
"The Skull. The receptacle of his knowledge. You have met the Gravekeeper and come away triumphant."
Ray looked between the two women without saying anything. He gave the barest nod of his head. The woman crowed with delight.
"One has escaped their bonds." Her head moved drunkenly now, swaying from one person to the next. "You will lose all you hold dear."
Her eyes closed once then opened again. Twice and stayed a little longer. Finally, the third time, she didn't have the strength to open them, but she said,
"All you hold dear will be laid to waste." Then she collapsed sideways on the couch, hair falling in her face. Marie reached out to check her pulse and breathing uncertain of how much a woman Naomie's size should actually be taking. With a steady pulse and even breathing though, Marie relaxed. Naomie wasn't dead.
"What did she mean by all of that, Marie?"
Ray's question didn't catch her off guard as much as she had no answer for him. If she took it literally, then someone would come into her life and take everything she had. If she looked at it metaphorically, then it could mean many things. However, she had an inkling that the imposter spoke in literal terms, which meant something terrible would be coming soon.
Her mind went a turn back and she asked,
"The skull, what about it?"
Ray showed her his right hand, printed on the back was the image of a skull faint but there. How she had seen it in the light, Marie wasn't sure, but it was there.
"I had a dream that I was in Rosewood Cemetery again. This time the tree was still alive and the Gravekeeper was there. I wrestled him for the skull and was lucky to come out with a few injuries. The funniest thing was, I called for you when I had it. As if I knew you could help me."
The slight color of embarrassment touched Marie's cheeks. That might have been awkward if Naomie heard Ray calling Marie's name. Thankfully, that hadn't happened.
"I wonder what she meant by 'one has escaped their bonds'?"
"Hell if I know. All I know is I want Naomie back where she belongs, not stuck wherever she is and kept there by some weird magic."
The woman on the couch coughed and, right at her throat, a light appeared. The rose glow twined around Naomie's neck and down the front of her dress culminating in a stylized heart between her breasts. She didn't sit up immediately, but her eyes opened and she shook her head.
"Naomie?" Ray called her name and reached out to her. She gave no immediate answer. Instead, she stared without seeing. When she came back to herself, she reached out to Ray.
"Ray."
"Oh thank god."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
When a sudden cry interrupted her thoughts, Naomie was pacing the sumptuous room not precisely looking for a way out but trying to keep warm. Around her, covered by what seemed a sea of black velvet, were hundreds of mirrors. They all came together to create the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room, even the door which kept her imprisoned. She could see out of the small hole in the door to another mirrored wall which reflected her face. She looked haggard. It could have been lack of sleep or worry, but whatever it was, she had bags under her eyes and her mouth had pulled into a thin grimace. After becoming aware she would not be leaving soon, she had yanked down one of the velvet curtains and wrapped it around herself. It dragged behind her with a muffled sliding sound as she moved around the room.
The cry brought her attention back to the door. Outside of it, her doppelganger stood. She looked the worse for wear herself.
"Let me out," Naomie said. The Princess favored her with a glance before straightening the folds of her dress. The shadows under her eyes sat mascara deep.
"No. I have nearly achieved my objective. I will make that harlot pay." The Princess curled her hands together into claws and struck at the air.
"Who are you talking about?"
"It means nothing to you. You are as lost as she is."
Caught as she was, Naomie knew she needed to talk her way out of this. Weaponless and not even clothed for a fight, she didn't have much choice.
"I am not lost. You are the one who is lost."
From the way the Princess turned to the door, Naomie knew she had her attention. Now to keep it and maybe work it in the right direction.
"What do you know?"
"I know that everything you value is in here with me," Naomie said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have locked the door when you left. Which means all I have to do is find the right thing in here and I can destroy you."
"Good luck, my dear. My cell will tell you nothing."
"Oh, but your cell has already told me so much."
"What do you think you know?" Stalking up to the door, they were face to face with three inches of steel between them.
"Oh nothing, except there's a safe in the floor. Obviously you've hidden something important in there. Otherwise, you wouldn't mind if I opened it."
In her explorations, Naomie found the safe by tripping over it. It seemed like nothing more than a bump in the floor, but she put her hands on it and they had started to sink there until she touched something cold and metal. The key wasn't in it, but she had no doubt it was somewhere in that room. Now if the Princess would give her some clue as to its whereabouts, she might have something to bargain with.
The Princess reacted to the news with a growl.
"It matters not. You'll never find the key. You were lucky to find the one to my cell." The Princess shuffled away and picked up the key from the floor where it landed when it fell out of the lock. "But I suppose I could let you out. There's nowhere for you to go. Sleep has trapped you here."
One thing Naomie knew from years of practice was lying. The Princess might have fooled others into thinking she was nonchalant about letting her out, but Naomie saw the signs of fear. Whatever the Princess hid in the floor weighed heavy on her thoughts. It sat wordless in the set of the woman's shoulders as she came to unlock the door once again.
The key turned in the lock just as it did for Naomie and the door popped open. This time, Naomie was ready for it. She stepped back and let the door almost whack the Princess for her trouble. Then they were face to face. Naomie had to admit, the Princess was a faithful reproduction of her, if she were wearing Halloween makeup to look like a zombie. Her skin was too g
ray, her lips too red, and her eyes so bright they seemed to pop from her skull. Wrapped in her velvet covering, Naomie seemed regal as she allowed the woman back into the room she had spent untold hours in.
"Now, what have you?" asked the Princess looking at the poorly dressed Naomie. "I am here with you and you are no closer to your objective of escaping."
The Princess swept into the room, compact key in her palm. "You will never escape the maze again."
"I found my way through it to get here, so it should be no harder to find my way out."
"The maze wanted you to find me. It has no such want for your escape."
As if to punctuate her words, the world shifted. At least for Naomie it did. The Princess stood stock still as the room tilted to one side and dumped Naomie to the floor.
"What?" Naomie dragged herself back to her feet and tried to make sense of what had just happened. The room moved but the Princess did not. Something was missing and it was probably obvious. If she could only figure out what it was.
"You no longer matter. You will never leave here."
The Princess moved to one of the two pieces of furniture in the room, a vanity with various pots on it. From its drawer, she drew a pair of ornate silver shears. They were slightly curved like a bird's beak and decorated with feathers. One handed she opened them and tested the edge with her opposite thumb.
Naomie saw exactly what she didn't want to see in the Princess's eyes: murder. After spending years working with those who existed in various states of desperation, Naomie knew it when she saw it, resignation to a messy course of action. Things were about to turn ugly. Throwing off her cover, Naomie prepared as best she could in her pajamas for what could be a life or death fight. The Princess watched her move and brought the shears together with a slithering click.
They circled each other, much like the Princess and Marie had not so long ago. Naomie let her eyes slid away from the shears just long enough to check her footing. She didn't want to step on one of the curtains or bump into the divan. Either one could spell disaster. Bringing her hands up in a classic defense, she waited for the Princess to make the first move. Then she came at her, leading with the shears. Naomie stepped to one side and jabbed her opponent in the face. With a cry, the Princess fell back. Her eyes were even wider than they had been, if that were possible.
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