Helen’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “We were all on the roof. We were trying to stop her,” she said, her voice thick. “But she wouldn’t come down. She turned to look at us—her eyes were so unfocused, so blank. Then, right before she fell, she said, as clear as day . . . she said—”
Helen paused, touching her fingertips to her lips as they quivered.
“What? What did she say?” Theresa demanded.
Helen drew in a ragged breath. “She said, ‘I don’t belong.’”
The Other Woman
Eliza walked into her room that night and fell directly into bed, glad that she was already wearing her nightgown, since she never would have been able to muster the energy to change. She curled into a ball facing the center of the room, but at the sight of Catherine’s empty bed, she flung herself around to face the wall.
“It’s going to be all right,” she whispered to herself. “Helen is clearly a powerful witch. With her on our side, we can’t fail.”
A sudden scratching noise sounded at her window. Eliza’s heart vaulted into her throat and she sat straight up in bed. A long, silent moment passed. Then the scratch sounded again. Eliza whirled around. A pale face hovered outside her window, staring in at her.
Eliza screamed. Catherine? Had her roommate come back
of her own volition to punish Eliza for letting her fall to her death? But then her eyes focused on the panicked visage.
“Harrison?” she whispered.
He gestured frantically for her to let him in. Eliza jumped out of bed, realizing with a start that she was on the fourth floor, and whipped open the window. Harrison was perched precariously on the one-foot-wide stone lip that ran around the periphery of the building. He clutched both sides of the window and jumped to the floor, crouching for a moment to catch his breath.
“Harrison Knox, what are you doing!?” Eliza demanded, closing the windows with a bang. “You could have killed yourself.”
Harrison stood, blew out a breath, and smiled. “It would have been worth it to see you.” He looked her up and down, and the smile transformed into a grin. “And in your nightgown, no less.”
Eliza blushed furiously. She reached for the fringed shawl on the back of her desk chair and drew it tightly around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Harrison said, stepping toward her. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she automatically tilted her face into his palm. “But even though you refused my invitation, I simply couldn’t stay away any longer.”
All Eliza wanted to do was fall into Harrison’s arms. To let him hold her and comfort her and chase away all the awful things she’d seen and done. But he didn’t belong to her. He was Theresa’s. Right or wrong, whether they were in love or not, he had proposed and she had accepted. They were going to be husband and wife.
“Eliza,” Harrison said, stepping still closer. That one word was like a plea.
And then he tipped her chin up with his finger and brought his lips down to brush hers. Eliza’s skin was on fire, and her mind seemed to experience complete weightlessness. Every one of her reservations was obliterated by that one touch. She moved into him, and Harrison wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss. Eliza had never felt so completely loved in her life. So secure, so excited, so absolutely sure. Harrison was the man she was meant to be with. No other person would ever make her feel this way.
And yet—
She pulled away.
“What is it?” Harrison asked, his eyelids heavy. “Eliza, what’s wrong?”
“You shouldn’t have come,” Eliza said, summoning all her strength just to utter that one sentence. She touched her still-tingling lips with her fingertips.
Harrison hesitated. He looked behind him as if someone might be watching. “But I thought—”
“Theresa and I . . . we’re friends now, Harrison.” Eliza’s heart twisted excruciatingly, and she found she couldn’t look him in the eye. “And I can’t do this to her. I won’t be the other woman.”
“But Eliza, you know how I feel about you,” Harrison begged, his blue eyes entreating. “How I feel about her. Can’t we just—”
“No.” Eliza forced herself to look at him, and her heart broke, shattering into a million tiny pieces all over her insides. “Go, Harrison. Please.”
Harrison opened his mouth to protest but seemed to think the better of it. He stepped past her toward the window, but Eliza grasped his sleeve between her thumb and forefinger. “Out the door, please. I don’t think I could manage having your death on my conscience as well.”
Harrison nodded, though he had no idea how much meaning her words held. He paused with his hand on her doorknob and looked back at her. “If I’m caught, I won’t tell them who I’d come to see,” he said, his expression pained.
“Tell them whatever you wish,” Eliza replied, turning away from him. She felt exhausted, suddenly, as if she’d run out of fight. As she heard the door click quietly closed, she would have welcomed expulsion. Anything to get away from here. To put this place and all the people she’d hurt behind her.