Pretty Little Dead Girls by Mercedes M. Yardley

such a lackluster place. Syrina was wiping a tear from her eye with the back of a soapy hand when she heard a strange sound from behind her. It was a furtive sound, a menacingly sneaky and surreptitious sound, a terrifyingly recognizable sound that announced, “Hello, I am everything you have ever feared and I have arrived.”
    It was the sound of a knife being quietly unsheathed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    A Delicate Guillotine
    Bryony sobbed all of the way to the hospital, the note crumpled in her hand. Not Syrina. Not her dear, brave and true friend. It would be too cruel. It would be too much.
    She ran through the hospital doors and up to the front desk.
    “I am looking for my friend Syrina. Rikki-Tikki said she was here, and I’m so afraid! Is she alive? Is she hurt? Oh, won’t you help me find her?”
    The receptionist stared at this otherworldly woman whose soul was mixing with tears and spilling out of her ephemeral eyes. She wanted to grab the girl’s mitten-covered hands and tell her stories about faeries and trolls and great green monsters born from gardens. She wanted to ask her if she thought it would hurt terribly when death came to take her, as it most certainly would. Why, perhaps even this very minute! Time is of the essence! The receptionist opened her mouth to speak.
    “Bryony!”
    Bryony spun around at the sound of Rikki-Tikki’s voice and grabbed onto his sleeve.
    “Is she dead? Did fate steal Syrina away? It was supposed to be me. It was supposed to be me!”
    Rikki-Tikki smiled, and the tumultuous storm inside of Bryony’s heart gave way to the clearing sky.
    “She’s all right. We’ve been in talking to a detective. Let’s go see her, my girl.”
    He put his hand on the top of Bryony’s head and steered her down the hall. Bryony chattered nervously the whole time, speaking with her hands and her voice and, most especially, her heart.
    “Oh, you don’t know how frightened I was. I saw your note saying that Syrina was in the hospital, and when I stepped into the kitchen and saw the blood on the walls . . . ” Here her voice gave out, and Rikki-Tikki gave her hair a soft pat before leaning against an open door.
    “She’s here, Bryony. See?”
    Bryony peeked inside the room. Syrina looked enraged and exhausted and very much alive.
    Bryony threw her arms around her friend.
    Syrina hugged her back. “You’re okay! Thank goodness! I was so worried when you didn’t come home on time, but now I’m so glad.”
    Bryony didn’t realize she was crying again until Rikki-Tikki handed her a tissue. “I thought I had lost you. There was so much blood in the kitchen. Where did he hurt you?”
    Syrina’s eyes flashed. “Here. And here,” she said, pointing out two small wounds in her hairline. “And he broke two of my nails. Not to mention here,” she said, and revealed three long scratches on her wrist. “This is where he clawed me when he was trying to get away.”
    “When he was trying to . . . I don’t understand. The blood!”
    “It was the other guy’s,” Rikki-Tikki said. “I heard Syrina scream and I can’t tell you how that felt, Bryony. Like I was sitting outside watching the moon and it just exploded in front of me. By the time I got there, she already had him backed into the corner.”
    “I threw some bowls at him,” Syrina said. “I tried to find our kitchen knives but they must have been in the dishwasher, so I beat on him with a saucepan instead.”
    “You beat him pretty ruthlessly,” Rikki-Tikki said. “I had to jump in to protect him. He seemed relieved to see me.”
    Bryony blinked at Syrina.
    “But why?” she asked. “Why would you do something so dangerous? What if he had hurt you? Surely you understand the risk of just being my friend.” Bryony stood tall, her fury hissed and mewed and wrapped itself brilliantly around her. “This is my burden to bear, not yours. I should never have asked this of you. I will go home and pack my things.” She took Syrina’s