" Annabelle sat up, pulled down her torn shift and looked at me. I opened my eyes and she scrambled to my side."You're not dead," she whispered, a trickle of blood pulsing from her torn lip. "We've got to help Cissy."I just stared at her, and she felt around under the bed, found my big bayonet and cut me loose. I sat up and shook my head and then wished I had not done that. I touched my cheek and felt the swelling alongside my eye."Help her," Annabelle pleaded, kneeling before me. I found my musket, checked the priming and clamped on my blade, a bit unsteady but upright, all my weight on one foot and not seeing very clearly."How many?" I asked, leaning beside the open door."Three or four," she whispered, arming herself with her carving knife."Get the girl back in here if you can," I said. "Ready?"She nodded, and I wondered if I was. I swung my leg, stepped outside and saw the girl kneeling at the well, nearly naked and down on all fours, blood on her white thighs. The man who had been. ”Eric rolled his eyes and slipped his hands into his blue jeans pockets. A t-shirt and jeans for him and Art and Matthew; the fashion was timeless and immortal. At least Sándor wore a dark button shirt, and dark jeans. Only Natasha wore an ensemble that cost more than a hundred dollars: a proper suit, black. Invictus habits died hard.“Surprised to hear you say that,” Art said, looking down at her.“W-What? Why?”The man squirmed and looked around, but no one else said anything, and he sighed.“After everything that’s happened, I figured you’d be against Avery in most things.”Natasha frowned up at Arturo with an urge to yell at him. She didn’t used to get that urge, not over stuff like this.“Just b-because ... she ... Just because she t-told you two to ... Just ... b-b-because she...” Natasha grit her teeth, looked down, and took a deep, useless breath. It was so damn hard to find the words, when every time she remembered what Arturo and Matthew did to her, she got upset. She hated not.
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