Page 176 of Twisting Beauty

I kept tearing through the shelves. Every second was a second closer to him being back. “For fuck’s sake, Rua. The key!”

She pointed through the hatch. “His desk. Top drawer.”

I ran to the desk and pulled the top drawer.

Thank God, the key was there.

I returned to the door and slid the key into the lock. The mechanism gave with a heavy click that traveled up into my back teeth.

I pulled the door open.

God. She was right there. No door between us. Her. Rua. My sister. My twin returned from the dead.

Her eyes flicked past me, up the stairs at the back of the basement, fear pulling the corners of her mouth tight and rounding her shoulders.

I held out my hand. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

After a moment, she took it, her cold hand sliding into mine.

For a moment we just stood there.

Emotion clogged up my throat so thick it hurt to breathe around it. My sister.

My twin.

Alive.

Already the feeling inside my chest was too big for my body to hold.

I wanted to say it properly. Wanted to tell her I knew her somehow, that some impossible part of me recognized her even though I barely knew her at all.

The words tangled together and came out wrong.

“You sound like a music box, you know?” I blurted out.

She blinked at me. Once. Twice. Then the corner of her mouth tipped up. “And you’re gray and purple.”

Oh. She was like me. She had synesthesia, too.

She saw smells as color, saw color around people, the way I heard music.

My chest warmed.

She glanced up at the ceiling, her brows knitting together. “He’ll be back. He always comes back.”

“I know. We have to go.” I led, tugging her behind me as we hurried across the basement.

For half a second I considered grabbing something, the vial, an index card, anything to use as proof so Deargán couldn’t gaslight me on this too.

I dismissed it instantly. Rua alive was my proof.

“Come on.”

I grabbed the banister as we reached the foot of the stairs.

And froze.

Rua let out a small fearful whimper and pressed in against my back, her fingers gripping at my sweater.