Page 69 of Our Crooked Hearts
“Wake him up, Marion.”
“No,” she said, affronted. “I need his house.”
I stalked out to face her. “This is vile. How am I supposed to trust you after you show me this?”
She ran her tongue tip between her teeth. “If I didn’t show you these things, youshouldn’ttrust me.”
“Are there other people in the house?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to them!”
“I’m asking if it matters toyou.They’re not dead. While they’re sleeping, theywon’tdie, or age, or thirst. They’re as safe as it’s possible to be in this world. Their house fulfills a need, and I’ll give it back when I’m through. So. Does it matter?”
“Of course it does,” I said stubbornly. “They’re human beings.”
“And there are just so many of them.”
And god, her voice was solight.She laughed at the look on my face and said, “Ivy, they’re inside a dream. Okay? A gooddream, all of them together—a mom and a dad and a kid. There’s a photo in the bathroom, the three of them in one of those boats, those fancy Italian boats.” She waited.
“Gondola,” I said curtly.
“Gondola. Yeah. They’re dreaming of the day they rode in the gondola.”
I wiped a hand over my mouth. “So this is what witches do, huh? They just fuck with people’s brains to get what they want?”
“I’m an occultist,” she snapped, “andnobodycan do what I can do. Well.” She shifted her jaw, forward and back. “Almost nobody.”
I swallowed, tasting the tease in her words. I had to help these people, and I would. But a few more minutes of sleep wouldn’t kill anyone.
“Who else?” I said. “My mom?”
She made a dismissive noise.
“Who, then?”
“Now that is a really big question.”
She reached behind herself. With a magician’s flourish, she revealed the golden box.
The back of my tongue sparked like I’d just bitten into a lemon. Seeing it in someone else’s hands made my brain hiss,Mine.But when I reached for it, she pulled it away.
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean, not yet? What are you waiting for? Why did you take this?”
“Ask the question you’re not asking. Ask me: What does it hold?”
I swallowed. “Well?”
She slid off the counter. “Come with me.”
I followed her outside, across the patio, to the jeweled lip of the pool. She set the box on the concrete and unbuttoned her jeans.
“Take off your clothes,” she said.
“Why?”
