She had to tell him right away. Shit, it felt like a fucking semi-instant replay of the night before.
And just as it had the night before, her heart leapt when the sound of the Chevelle’s engine finally drifted into her apartment not long after midnight, leapt higher when it cut off. If he would just understand, not be mad at her … trust her. It was too much to ask, but she didn’t really have a choice, did she?
At least one thing went her way. Her pills started to hit as she watched him walk across the straggly patch of grass gone to seed and cement pebbles by the side of her building up to the front steps. She closed her eyes, let that slow smooth … delight, was the only way to describe it, really … wind its glorious way from her stomach up through her chest, settling soft white peace over the ragged edges of her nerves. Murders and magic and ghosts and above it all the memory of Lex grabbing her, the memory that made her feel like she was going to throw those pills right back up … all of it faded just a bit, just enough to let her take a breath.
She waited, looking out the window, watching a hooker pick up a trick and one of Bump’s corner men make a sale. A typical night, the streets alive with degeneracy. Sometimes she loved Downside.
His key scraped in the lock, and he was there, his heavy footsteps getting closer until finally she did turn, forcing a smile.
He smiled, too. Was it her imagination or was there something … something off, in his eyes? Something that didn’t seem right, like he was pretending to look at her the way he usually did but really he was thinking something else.
Somehow she found her voice. “Hey. How’d your day go?”
He shrugged. “You?”
“Okay.” Were her legs shaking? It felt like they were shaking. Maybe she’d better sit down.
The couch seemed so far away. Funny. Before all of this she’d never even have imagined she could despise herself more than she already did, make herself even sicker over her stupid weaknesses. Especially the stupid weakness that had made her think she could actually handle this whole relationship thing.
Well, fine. Enough with the weakness and the fear and the waiting for the ass-dumping axe to fall. If it was going to happen, let it just fucking happen.
“Hey, I, um, I need to tell you something.”
“Aye?” He sat down next to her. Her fingernails dug into her palms to keep herself from reaching out to touch him.
Instead, she stood up again. Her legs now seemed to be shaking with energy. Too much energy, like she’d just sucked back a dozen lines, like she could walk ten miles and still be ready to race around some more. Her stomach danced from nerves and drugs, floating right below her head.
Fuck this. Fuck Lex, and fuck her guilt and feeling shitty and being scared. She started again. “Okay. I have to tell you something.”
“So tell.” Was that impatience in his voice? He still sat on the couch, watching her pace with his hands on his thighs.
“So, my case. It’s— Well, you know where it is. And I couldn’t get anyone to talk to me. So I mentioned to Lex that I couldn’t get them to talk to me, and he … he kissed me in front of all of them. To help me out. With the case.”
He didn’t move. Fine. She was going to kill Lex for getting her into this, she really was.
“So that’s what happened, and it didn’t mean anything and I didn’t want to do it but it happened. Nobody would talk to me until he did that and then they did, and it’s a big case and I need it. And I’m sorry.”
She paused for a second. Didn’t take a chance looking at him again. Looking at him might break the simmering froth of anger she’d built up, and she wasn’t done talking yet, and if she got the rest of it out fast enough she could probably keep that froth going.
“So if you want to dump me now or whatever, just do it, okay, because it’s—it’s making me feel sick and I don’t want to have to think about it anymore.”
The silence grated on her; it was too loud, like the air was beating against her eardrums. Like her fear was beating against everything else, thrumming in her chest and head. Would he just fucking say something? Her high and her panic were just about equal at the moment, but if it went on too much longer panic would totally win, and once she lost that righteous anger she’d be fucked.
He cleared his throat. “Wondered if you was gonna tell me.”
“What?”
“Wondered on it, dig. Iffen you’d tell me or tryin hide it.”
What the fuck? She’d been panicking and freaking out and he already knew?
Oh, right, except that wasn’t actually good news. Righteous anger at Lex was one thing. Letting that righteous anger convince her that she had nothing to worry about was another. “You knew about it? How did you find out about it, so fast?”
“It matter?”
“No, no, I just wondered, is all.” If he knew, maybe the fact that she’d told him would be a point in her favor. Maybe it would mean he’d believe her, he’d trust her—well, he wasn’t going to trust her, probably, but maybe she’d get some kind of reprieve.
Of course, maybe he’d think that she’d told him hoping that would be his response, so he’d trust her even less, because— Oh, whatever.
He shrugged. “Ain’t important. But aye. Heard on it.”
Of course he knew, though. He might not have heard rumors about Lex sharing his bed—privately—with a Churchwitch on occasion, no, but he certainly would hear about Lex playing hide-the-tongue with a Churchwitch in the middle of the day, in the middle of a crowd of gossipy teenagers.
“So … are you mad at me?”
He shrugged. “Ain’t happy.”
“Yeah, but … do you believe me? I mean, are you … leaving.”
“Don’t know what I should be doin.”
But he hadn’t left. He hadn’t gotten up and left, and he hadn’t raised his voice, and maybe that was a good sign, right? She was just high enough to think maybe it was. Just high enough to think maybe she could change the subject and sweep all of it into the past.
Not that she’d ever forget, or he would. She knew better than anybody that some things could never be forgotten. Some wounds never stopped hurting. But maybe in a relationship it was different? People in relationships forgave each other, right?
She sucked in a breath and sat down next to him. Her throat felt like plaster; a drink would probably be a good idea. If she could manage to swallow anything, anyway. “Don’t let him do this. Please.”
He looked at her. Waiting.
“Lex. Don’t let him do this. I mean, I don’t know if he knows about you and me, but I know he kissed me just to fuck with me. Not in that way, you know what I mean. Just because he thinks it’s funny.”
“Chess—”
“No. He just grabbed me and I didn’t know what to do. I needed to get them to talk to me and I didn’t feel like I could shove him away or something and alienate them more, and I hate that. But I really hate that he’s managing to—to make you mad, or whatever, even though he’s not even here, and he has nothing to do with us.”
He shook his head. “Trustin you … Ain’t makin it easy, aye?”
“I know. I’m sorry. But I’m trying to be honest. I’m not hiding things from you. I don’t want to hide things from you again.” She reached out a tentative hand, took it as a good sign when he didn’t yank his arm away.
He turned his face to her, opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t let him. Couldn’t let him. She needed to kiss him; she’d never thought she’d need something like that, but she did. Especially at that moment, when she felt like one wrong step would sever the thin cord of their relationship forever.
So she leaned forward and took his face in her hands. His muttonchops tickled her palms as she pressed her lips against his, willing him to respond. Please let him respond. She couldn’t speak above a whisper; all her hopes and fears had clogged her throat, and it was still so hard, so scary, to say the words anyway. Like sticking her hand into a trap. “I love you, okay? I love
you.”
His hand reached up to touch her hair; relief washed down her body.
“Aye.” He pulled back. It hadn’t gone on for very long, no, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d completely forgotten or forgiven or whatever it was people did in that situation. But he was there, and he wasn’t looking at her with anger or contempt. So that was a good thing, right?
She waited to see if he’d say anything else. He didn’t. Should she explain again, apologize again? What the hell was she supposed to do? Something told her grabbing him and taking him to bed, or ripping off her clothes, or something along those lines, was not the thing to do at that moment.
So. From the kiss to the murder. “Um, I have some other stuff I have to tell you about, too. I did some research today, on death spells. Spells like that one, to create energy from death? Those sometimes catch fire.”
He nodded, looked at her. The first time he’d looked her in the eyes since she’d told him. “So Slobag’s witch maybe does the job, already got the knowledge the pipe room’s gonna burn? Starts up the fire that way, dig.”
“Right. Um, you’re sure it was Slobag’s witch?”
“Know Slobag’s got heself a witch, dig, for a certain. Don’t know iffen he witch the one killed Eddie.” He shook his head. “Ain’t can see how some other witch might have got the knowledge on the room bein empty, though, aye? Only were shut down that day.”
Right. And didn’t she look better and better as a suspect. She got up and grabbed herself a bottle of water from the fridge. It was hard sitting there next to him and not touching him. Hard not climbing into his lap or pulling him on top of her; even if she hadn’t been thirsty she would have gotten up just to distract herself. “Any luck finding the spy? You sounded like you might have some news, on the phone.”
“Naw, not much.” Was that true?
When she turned around, he’d stood up. “Why we ain’t head over yon school now, aye? Thinkin be good getting out of here.”
“And you ain’t had a chance ask Lex on this witch.”
“No,” Chess said. They were in her new car, the engine purring under the hood and the Vibrators drifting at low volume from the speakers. The streetlights had that curious vivid brightness they seemed to take on when the weather warmed up; no longer tiny pinpoints like sparks shrunken by cold, but fuzzy halos.
And the streets teemed with people, even at this hour. One in the morning was practically midafternoon in Downside, especially on a night as warm as this one. It almost made Chess wish they could stop the car, get out, go for a walk.
Or even better, sit up on her roof with a twelve of cold beer and her portable disc player on low.
Instead they were on their way back to what she was rapidly coming to think of as her prison. Funny, that was just how she’d felt about school the first time. Except then, of course, she could get out of it.
“When I was talking to that girl at school someone mentioned Slobag’s witch, they thought it was me because—because they thought I was with Lex.” Fuck fuck fuck, she had to say that, didn’t she. “So whoever it is, it’s not really public information. At least I don’t think so.”
“Kinda fucked up, him keeping it secret. Ain’t can see why him would.”
Unfortunately, she could think of a few reasons why Lex would keep that secret, from the obvious one sitting next to her to the possibility that Slobag planned to use magic to help him take over Downside, which would put her right up against the wall, wouldn’t it? If someone started using magic against Bump, she knew exactly where he’d turn. And if someone started using magic against Terrible nobody would have to turn to her at all, because no way was she going to stand back if that happened.
And she knew from the tone of his voice that he knew those reasons just as well as she did.
What other reasons was he thinking of, though? Other reasons why Slobag—why Lex—might keep the identity of his witch hidden? Like because Slobag’s witch and Bump’s witch were one and the same?
The silence sat heavy between them.
“I’ll keep trying to find out,” she said finally, before asking again, “Um, did you find out anything? Anything more, I mean.”
She slowed for the red light, didn’t stop. Too many kids on the street corner with their hats pulled down and their collars pulled up, hiding their faces. Red lights in Downside were always a gamble, but playing odds like those was just stupid. They’d back off when they saw Terrible, sure, but why bother?
Pause. “Got some people work both sides, if you dig. Gave me the tell on—on what happen with you. Gave me the tell on Slobag getting heself some plans, big ones. Only don’t got any knowledge what them are. An nobody hear more on he witch.”
She wanted to ask if that meant maybe the rumors about Slobag having a witch were exaggerated, then. Or if maybe Slobag’s plans and Slobag’s witch weren’t quite as related as they could be.
But to ask … it might make it look like she was trying to cover something up, to obscure her own guilt. Damn it. Something just didn’t feel right, she couldn’t help it. “How did Eddie end up in the pipe room?”
His head tilted, his eyebrow rose. Right.
“I mean, why him? Do you know why he ended up being the one?”
He paused, a slow heavy pause she didn’t like. Was he trying to decide how much to tell her? How much he trusted her to know? “Lived on the border streets, he did. Figured him got snatched offen em.”
“So just random, then.” Right. Bullshit ran down her spine, down into her chest to squeeze her heart.
His mouth opened, then shut as she turned the wheel again. The dark hulk of the Mercy Lewis school loomed before them, a dead beast abandoned to the elements. She switched off the headlights and half drove, half coasted around to the back, merging into the shadows like being sucked into a pool of thick dark water. And about as comfortable.
Being there with Terrible helped. At least she wouldn’t be all alone in the building if something decided to lock her in a janitor’s closet or slam her over the head with whatever.
But much as she hated to admit it, Terrible brought along his own set of problems. Like the fact that if anybody saw him they might very well try to kill him. Or someone could call Slobag and then Slobag would try to kill him. And that would be her fault.
Which made it kind of selfish and shitty of her to bring him with her, but she couldn’t help it. She was nervous—the empty school at night wasn’t like someone’s house while they slept—and she felt like she hadn’t seen him in days, which frankly sucked, and after everything that had happened … she just wanted him there. Even feeling his caution slick on her skin, she wanted him there.
Her car rattled and bumped its way over every rock and patch of uneven ground, banging Terrible’s head on the ceiling once. “Shoulda brung my car.”
“No, we shouldn’t have, and you know why we didn’t.”
He sighed. Heavily. ” ‘Stoo small.”
“Every car is too small for you.” Her smile felt good.
“Mine ain’t.”
She slid the car up to the theater door and shoved it into gear, set the brake. “Come on.”
She’d already turned the interior light off—she did that as soon as she bought the thing; when the light came on inside the car at night it made her too visible, made whatever lurked outside it too invisible—and the moon was just a blur in the cloud-covered sky. The air smelled like rain. Shit. That pitiful field of dirt next to the school would turn into a mudpit, and she’d be stuck right in the middle of it.
With a man who probably had an awfully generous price on his head. Not even counting what he was worth to her.
It wasn’t raining yet, though. And what was she going to do, take him home and then come back? No. So she should shut up about it.
To aid that, she grabbed a couple of Cepts along with her flashlight, lube syringe, and pick kit. Her water bottle was almost empty; she used the last of it to chase the pills, then set to wo
rk on the lock.
Set to work on the cheap, barely effective lock. Interesting. Security at Mercy Lewis didn’t appear to be too tight, which opened up a shitload of other possibilities for her case.
“Anybody get in here, aye?” Terrible pulled the door back for her, waited for her to walk in before following. “All them locks so shitty?”
“I don’t know about all of the locks, but that one sure was.”
“Somebody faking a ghost in here, could be just tryin give them kids the scare.”
“Let’s hope not. It’s hard enough to find out who’s responsible inside the school, much less outside.”
She took his hand as they started through the maze of scenery flats, past the destroyed top of the trunk that had almost been her coffin. She shuddered, started to speed her pace, then stopped.
When she’d escaped that thing she’d broken the lock off, sent pieces of wood everywhere. Now the floor was clear: no lock, no wood, not even a few scattered splinters.
So somebody had been in there since she escaped, and tidied up. So what?
So nobody was supposed to be in there.
“Chess? You right?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, right up. Sorry. Just … thinking about something.”
Darkness hid his expression from her, but she knew what it would be. That half-patient, half-curious look, waiting to see if she’d tell him more and not wanting to ask.
She didn’t want to tell him. He already knew enough of her stupid problems and weaknesses; he didn’t need to hear about The Time Chess Got Trapped in the Trunk, too.
But he also didn’t trust her, did he? So she settled for “I was here earlier and it was messy. There was stuff all over. Now it’s cleaned up.”
“Somebody been in here.”
“Right.”
Together they walked up the aisle to the lighting booth in the back, where Terrible boosted her up so she could attach a camera above it to face the stage. Just in case. “Okay, done.”
He turned her so she slid down him rather than being set down, so her chest pressed against his when her feet hit the floor. His hands stayed on her hips. A shiver of excitement bloomed in her stomach, and lower, when their eyes met.