Deeper

No matter how many times I washed my hands, they still felt filthy.

I held them under near-scalding water, using a sponge to scrub under my fingernails. Soap frothed around the drain. The water ran clear – had run clear for at least five minutes – but it wasn’t until someone rapped sharply on the door that I turned off the water.

“I’m coming,” I called, frantically drying my hands as though doing so might erase the raw skin around my cuticles. I smoothed my hair back and stepped out of the bathroom. “Sorry.”

Clancey’s gaze flicked over me. “Jesus Melody, did you take a bath in the sink?”

I curled my fingers to hide the wrinkled pads from his pointed stare. “Just washing my hands.”

Rolling his eyes, Clancey offered me his elbow. “Your hands are clean, you know.”

I stayed silent.

“Mels.”

“Yeah, yeah. Clean hands. Got it.” I took his arm and despite having just spent an unreasonably long time scouring my hands I still expected to leave a smudge on Clancy’s gray suit.

We made our way down the empty hallway, footsteps echoing off marble walls. I kept my gaze straight ahead, trying not to think about how the night would end. So many things could go wrong. So many things could go right.

Voices swelled ahead as we rounded a corner and Clancey must have felt me falter because he rested his free hand over mine. “You’ve got this,” he murmured.

I nodded and forced my feet to keep moving.

A tuxedo-ed man stood in an archway at the end of the hall. He stepped forward to greet us as we approached. “Sir,” he said, holding out his hand, “welcome to Fortings Charity Gala. May I see your invitation, please?”

I glanced at Clancey, hoping I looked expectant instead of terrified. Here we had the first part to play; we belonged here. We had millions to spend on trinkets that would spend the next decade at the back of the closet collected dust. We were here to write off enough taxes to avoid paying our due.

Without missing a beat, Clancey removed his hand from mine and reached into his jacket to retrieve the small navy-blue envelope kept there. He passed it to the host, who flicked it open and withdrew the heavy parchment invitation. Gold ink flashed as he examined it. My heart pounded in my ears as he turned the paper this way and that, then slid it back into its home and tapped it against his palm. His eyes roved over me. “Who is your plus-one?”

I tried to keep my lip from curling at the pure contempt in his voice. It seemed even that simply having the misfortune of working for these leeches infected their blood with poison. How I longed to reach out and cleanse him… but I had a role to play.

I kept quiet, dropped my gaze.

“Tiffany,” Clancey said. “Or was it Talia? Oh whatever, does it really matter?” he waved his hand as if warding off a fly. “She’s something pretty on my arm tonight.”

The host’s mouth twitched. “Very well, Mr. Baulder. Please follow me.”

I tried not to let out a relieved sigh.

The host led us toward another man in a crisp tuxedo standing by a large set of wooden double doors. He handed our invitation to him. “Harvey, please introduce Mr. Baulder,” he said before dipping a shallow bow to Clancey and returning the way we’d come.

Harvey glanced at the envelope in his hand but didn’t open it. “Right this way, sir and ma’am.”

Before they could step up to the door, Clancey reached out and grasped Harvey’s hand. Leaning in he said, “Let’s skip the announcement today. I find auctions much more entertaining when my competition doesn’t expect my money.”

Harvey raised a brow, but acquiesced. I saw a flash of green as he tucked his hand into his pocket and opened the door.

Instantly the murmur of conversation swelled. My fingers tightened on Clancey’s arm as we swept into the ballroom. The crowd instantly crushed me, faceless figures swirling around me with no regard to personal space. Bodies pressed against me forcing me back, dragging me down, down, down-

“Easy,” Clancey murmured, pulling me out of the throng to rest in a small alcove. He held my hand over his chest. “Deep breaths. Slow. With me.”

I focused on that point of contact, the rise and fall of his chest, and matched him. Inhale, hold – one, two, three, exhale. Inhale, hold – one, two, three, exhale. And again.

“Good.” He gently lifted my chin, waiting until my eyes flicked up to meet his before speaking again. “What was it?”

I studied him for a moment, grounding myself in the way his face softened. Chocolate eyes, creased at the corners. Light skin, tanned enough to say he spent most of his time in the sun. Neat blond hair cut close. Perfect posture that spoke of duty. Familiar, strong, safe. I was safe.

Clancey waited until I was ready to speak. He may not always understand the things I do, but when it came to moments like these he was always so patient.

“There are too many, all around me.” I glanced back out to the room, people pressed tightly together in a ring around the dance floor. “Suffocating me. Trapping me.”

“Ah.” Clancey followed my glance. His hand fell away from my chin. “You can stay here while I look around, if you’d like. I remember what it was like my first time in a crowd after…” He looked back at the room.

I hadn’t thought about it until that moment, and when I did, I had to bite my lip. The smell…

I dug my nails into my palms. Soon enough. I nodded.

Clancey pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I won’t be long.” He melted into the crowd, and I was alone in my small pocket of privacy.

I looked at my hands. Half-moons marred each palm. I made a face and turned my attention to my fingernails. Still clean, still shiny from the lacquer I’d applied the day before. The longer I stared at them, the more I could feel the soil that must still be hiding somewhere. The lacquer itself felt like mud caking my fingers.

A bathroom. I needed a bathroom. I needed to wash my hands.

No longer paying the crowd any heed, I stepped from my alcove and kept to the small walkway around the edge of the room. People still jostled back occasionally, but they weren’t pressing in on me anymore. All the better for everyone.

That is, until someone stepped directly into my path. I nearly collided with him, barely stopping on time. Our toes bumped.

“My, my,” a deep voice said. “Who left a beauty like you all alone?”

Adrenaline, fear like a bolt of lightning, went through me. That voice – for a moment I was back in the dark, roots jabbing deep under my nails, soil filling my mouth as I clawed my way up, up, up-

Large fingers gripped my chin in a mockery of how Clancey had lifted my gaze to his. Where Clancey guided, this man demanded, forcing my face up until I looked at him. The fear vanished. Rage boiled through my blood. Just like last time, a coy smile split the man’s face. Just like last time, a second man appeared behind me to pen me in.

Just like last time, I was completely alone in a room full of people.

“Let me get you a drink,” he said.

“No thank you.”

“I didn’t see you come in.” He stroked the back of his hand down my temple and tucked an invisible strand of hair behind my ear.

Unlike last time, I did not twitch away from his touch. I expected the firm grip on the back of my neck pulling me close to his face. I allowed it, though I turned my face enough to avoid our lips colliding. His eyes narrowed, but he gave an ill laugh.

His breath puffed against my cheek. “Who are you with? I would love to meet the man who snuck into my home unannounced.”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” I sneered. My fingers prickled.

“I do believe it is.” His hand tightened painfully at my nape.

My eyes watered, but I made no attempt to pull away. I wanted my face here, close to his. “You didn’t seem to care much last time; why now?”

He blinked, but quickly hid his confusion. “Lat time? I don’t think I’d forget a beauty like you.”

“Do you need a hint?” I whispered, the fury in my chest coiling tighter.

I didn’t give him time to respond before screaming. “No! Let me go! Please, don’t! No!”

He reeled back, releasing me, but I followed, shrieking wordlessly. The room fell silent as people turned to watch the commotion.

Mr. Fortings stumbled and fell, landing hard and scrambling back until he realized we had an audience. His accomplice vanished the moment I began screaming; this time, he was the one all alone.

Clancey appeared in the corner of my vision, but I didn’t turn to him. I didn’t need him now; all my fear was gone. This was why we were here. I was ready.

Mr. Fortings stared up at me, mouth slightly agape as recognition dawned in his eyes. He paled. “We- we buried you,” he gasped.

I smiled, something sweet and sharp and deadly – like me. “You should have buried me deeper.”