Dying Light: Urban Fantasy by Bianca Zikkers

Author:Bianca Zikkers [Zikkers, Bianca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bianca Zikkers Publishing
Published: 2024-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

Iwoke, the insistent knock at the door shattering my numb cacoon.

“It’s time to wake Miss Henricks. I have your dress if you’d care to take it.”

I stifled a groan, wondering what she’d do if I told her where she could put the stupid dress.

She knocked again, louder.

“I’m coming,” I said, dragging myself from the bed.

I opened the door and took the dress, amazed that she was able to keep a straight face. I must’ve looked a sight, but she didn’t let her reaction show. She was definitely good at her job.

“The guests will be here in half an hour.”

“Half an hour? How long did I sleep?”

“A little over seven hours.”

It had felt like five minutes. I threw the white garment bag onto my wrinkled and now dirty bed, grabbed an extra towel for my hair, and went to the bathroom. I looked down at my pile of dirty clothes and felt my first wave of grief since waking. It was all I had left of him. Of any of them. Even if I found someone to help me and I was able to free and restrain Nick long enough to escape, I had no idea how to find my way back to the Scorchers.

One thing at a time.

I pulled my hair out of its ponytail, unwound the bandages on my feet, and turned on the water, letting it scald away my tears. I stayed as long as I dared before getting out, towelling off and drying my hair just enough to pass as decent before combing it back.

I unzipped the garment bag, staring at its occupant with a mix of horror and resignation. It was short, red, and sleeveless, its fabric some kind of clingy, expensive satin. It looked like a piece of lingerie instead of a dress fit for dinner, but that was my uncle’s taste and this was his house. I hesitated, noticing the small bag slipped around the neck of the coat hanger.

Molly had bought me a set of clean underwear.

I almost cried at her thoughtfulness as I slipped them on, followed by the matching dress. I ducked back into the bathroom, risking a look at myself. I looked awful. Violet eyes, black hair with an inch of white regrowth, and a fist-sized scar on my left shoulder. At least my flaws would draw attention away from my braless cleavage and naked thighs.

I snorted a laugh, wondering if it was anything like the type of dress Burney had pictured me wearing as his walled-city girlfriend.

I bit down on my bottom lip, wishing I could grieve him like he deserved. But my uncle’s house was filling with voices and Molly was knocking on my door again.

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