Kathryn:

He's back.

I get the news from Blaine, my one-time dealer and still-reliable second set of eyes at Manchester. Blaine whose love for me is the purest there is, the love of a gay man for his female diva idol. He tells me I'd better sit down for this. "Remember your dear beloved stepbrother?"

"I don't remember having a dear beloved anything. I suppose you've called with news about Sebastian. What is it?"

"You'll never guess."

I roll my eyes—Blaine has a penchant to over-dramatize everything. "I don't suppose a new will's surfaced that leaves me the car?"

"Better than that. He's back."

"Back, as in..."

"As in empty coffin, faked medical records, the whole works. You got played, Princess."

"Excuse me for a minute, I have a call on another line." I put the phone on mute because I've only got a few seconds before it happens. I lean against the wall and put my hand over my mouth, because the floodgates are opening and no one but me must hear this, no one but me can ever know. The memories rush in:

Seb standing in the doorway as I get ready for bed, "Hello, Sis," the sibling endearment hitting me with the force of an obscenity, the incest angle just another ingredient in the stew of perversion that was our lives.

The maniacally gleeful look on his face as he moves in on me, stroking my breasts with those oh so practiced hands. Sometimes I'd wrap my legs around his waist all of a sudden, just to give him a thrill. His quick gasp when I did that, priceless.

Sebastian, my ever-present torment. He fucked other women but I owned him, body and soul. Couldn't ever admit how much I got off on it, because then he'd own me. Here, in fucking nowhere Switzerland, just knowing he's alive is almost too much for me to bear. "Come home baby," I whisper into my hand. "Come home and abuse your little whore of a sister."

Okay, enough. Time to get the rest of the story from Blaine. I get my lipstick from my bag, unscrew the bottom compartment and take out a good spoonful—just in case.

"Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Sebastian. Your not-dead brother."

"Right. So what has the little bastard been up to?"

"Well, the first thing he did yesterday morning was to make a huge speech in front of the entire school about how sorry he was. Never meant to hurt you all, prank got out of hand, yadda yadda yadda. Then the headmaster spoke for an hour about how this was a lesson to us all. Almost enough to make yours truly wish he was back in class failing that biology test. I'm glad you weren't there, Princess, it was truly sickening, and you've got enough of a bulimia problem. Rumor is his girlfriend put him up to it. Can you say whipped?"

I hadn't even thought about the blonde. "How is she handling it?"

"Watches him like a hawk in the hallways. Clearly afraid he'll cheat."

"Any moves in my direction?"

"From her or from him?"

Blaine knows me too well. "From either."

"Nope."

"Have you spoken to either of them one-on-one?"

"As much as I'd love to get your stepbrother alone in a dark corner, no. As for Miss Pure as the Driven Snow, I'm surprised at you. I think she'd rather get expelled than get within ten feet of a gay old sinner like me."

"All right. Keep me posted."

Annette probably didn't know where I was. But Sebastian lives in my house, could wheedle the information out of Mother, she might even tell him herself in that gloating way of hers...he has access to my room now. A nightmare vision comes into my head of him and Annette, the two of them making love in my bed, sweet endearments and slow careful caresses. I stare down at the spoon in my hand, then will myself to put it away. I am not an addict. I still have control.