Her tongue was too big for her mouth; she could feel it hitting her teeth when she talked, feel the words forming before they wandered out. She wished she had something else to do with that tongue. “And it feels like stealing. Whatever they’re doing, they’re stealing. Stealing power from the earth. That’s bad.”
She quickly gave him the same explanation she’d given Beulah, waited in silence while he digested it. “Thinkin that why it bein done? Like maybe them Lamaru, or Maguinness?”
“No. It felt too, too clean. Maguinness was so dirty, his magic felt like, like bugs or something, but this one is bad but feels kind of, well, clean. Like the caster’s not right in the head but learned magic from someone who is, if that makes sense. I guess it could be to cause another Haunted Week or something but it doesn’t feel like that.”
Oh, right. Speaking of which. “The energy can be other things, too. It’s pure, you know? Not formed. So, it can turn into anything. Any sort of power. Does that make sense?”
“Be just power? An they holdin it just that way, till they use it an turn it into what they needing it for.”
“Right. Exactly.”
He shifted in his seat, but left his arm where it was. Maybe he did want her to curl up next to him? Maybe he was waiting for her to do it?
But why would he do that, especially after she’d just been spending time with Lex? She was the one who’d lied and betrayed; she was the one who’d had to beg. She was the one who’d kissed his worst enemy that very afternoon. She couldn’t take his forgiveness—or forgetfulness, whichever of the two she’d been blessed with—for granted and just assume it was okay to crawl all over him like some sort of parasitic nymphomaniac. If he turned her away …
“Been thinkin,” he said. “Got the wonder why they done it there, dig, outside the school an all. They know you inside? Or they tryna make a point, let the body get seen? Got any thoughts?”
“I didn’t even think of that.” She twirled a lock of her hair in her fingers, enjoying the cool slide of it over her skin. Hoped she looked alluring doing it, because she was starting to get tired—heart-pounding horror and Oozers tended to wear a person out—and she wanted to make sure they didn’t miss out again. Her body heated and squirmed below the false Oozer soothe, wanting to be touched, kissed; wanting to be pressed against his. “Yeah, it’s a really good thought. Why would they do it there, and with Jia? She’s a student. Was a student. The dead girl, she was a student.”
“Damn. Why her, wondering.”
“Oh!” She jumped in her seat. “She had the book! Jia did, earlier. She’s the one I took the book from. Did I tell you about that? The book? She had the—a ghost-summoning book. I took it from her. And they summoned a ghost, Lucy McShane, right?”
“So she weren’t just some dame them grabbed theyselves. Took her on purpose.”
“Right. Maybe, maybe she knew them or something. Maybe, oh, shit, yeah, maybe we can find out who she knew, and that’ll help, d’you think?”
He smiled and touched her hair, gentle fingers brushing it out of her face. “Aye, got a good sound to me.”
That was it. She couldn’t take it anymore. It was probably the wrong thing to do, yeah, but she had to try anyway, because sitting there so far apart was a slow torture she couldn’t endure.
The banked fire inside her burst back into ravenous flame when her lips touched his, when her arms wound around his neck. She’d practically jumped into his lap, his thighs beneath hers; when he responded she shifted position so she straddled him, reveling in the feel of him so close to her.
Not close enough, though. His shirt buttons stumped her numb fingers, but she managed to get one, then another, all the while keeping contact, deepening the kiss. She wanted to kiss his neck, his chest, but she couldn’t bear to leave him, not even for a second. She’d been so desperate for this for so long, and the rush of getting it was so fucking sweet.
His hands rested on her thighs, squeezed them gently. She waited for him to slide them up under her shirts or in her hair or her face, the back of her neck … all those places he usually touched her at first, the places that made her feel special and safe.
But he didn’t.
Okay, something was wrong. She shifted her hips, found no physical reason why he’d have a problem—on the contrary—but he didn’t touch her, or kiss her throat or ears or collarbones.
She pulled back far enough for their eyes to meet so she could let him see how much she wanted him, once she managed to focus. Damn, she was really high.
“Let’s go to bed, okay?” She ducked her head to kiss him again, but missed his mouth and had to slide over to hit it properly. “Take me to bed.”
Shit, she should have known. She had known. Making the first move like that was a mistake. He smiled, but she didn’t see anything in his eyes, or not what she wanted—needed—to see. His fingertips brushed her cheek. “Thinkin you oughta get you some sleep. Lookin worn up, aye?”
Sleep? Was he joking? “I can sleep after, I can sleep late tomorrow. We finally have a chance, I mean, it’s been a week …”
The words died in her throat. No. He wasn’t looking at her. Wasn’t picking her up to carry her to the big gray bed, or grabbing the hems of her shirts to peel them off.
“Always the morrow, aye? Got plenty of time. C’mon, tired myself, too. Let’s us get you resting.”
Her eyes stung. “I don’t want to rest, I want to—”
“Awful late, an you havin that magic you had to handle … Just got the thought might be better if—”
“It wouldn’t be. It won’t be.” Panic lurked around the edges of her voice, struggling to break through; she swallowed it, hard, so he wouldn’t hear it. “I don’t want to sleep, I want you.”
“I got a fuckload to do on wakin, an so do you, ain’t want you up so—”
Holy shit. As she leaned back and looked at him, really looked at him, it hit her. Like seeing pictures in her head, all the things she’d let slip past her because she was fucked up. “You don’t trust me.”
“What?”
“That’s it, right?” She scooted off him; her feet hit the floor and she struggled for a minute to get her balance, grasped the low arm of the couch to do it. “I told you Bag-end Eddie was working for Slobag and you didn’t even look surprised. You knew. Didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “Aye, but—”
“You didn’t tell me.” Yeah, she was fucking high, but she still had a brain, and it still had memories in it. Memories from earlier, in her car. “I fucking asked you why it was Eddie, if you had any idea, and you didn’t tell me. Was he a spy, or was he working for Slobag all along?”
He hesitated. Hesitated just long enough for her heart to smash itself on his cement floor. “Workin for us, dig, only spendin time on Slobag’s side.”
“You told me he was one of Bump’s corner men. You told me that two fucking nights ago.”
“An he were, only sometimes—”
“You—you lied to me. I asked and you didn’t tell me, in my car, you didn’t say a word.”
“Aw, naw, started to say, only we got to—”
An ugly thought crawled into her mind, burrowed down deep where all the other ugliness lurked, and dug its horrible claws into her.
“This is because of Lex, right? Because he kissed me this afternoon. This is because of, of fucking Beulah or Blue or whatever the fuck, because you don’t believe I didn’t know who she was. You think I told them the pipe room was closed, I’m spying, and you, you’re just keeping me around to watch me now—”
She couldn’t see his expression clearly, but she sure as hell saw him stand up. “The fuck are you talkin? You think I—”
“Don’t— I get it, I see now, okay? Just, I just want to leave, just please let me leave, let me go home. I get it, it’s over, you and me, but—”
“What?”
“Fine, that’s fine, whatever, we’re done, just— I can’t, I wasn’t lying, I wasn’t. I—just
let me go.”
Silence for a second while he took a deep breath, silence broken only by the sound of her polluted blood rushing in her ears, the silent screams in her head. Her throat ached from holding back sobs, a horrible straining cold pain that radiated into her head, down into her chest.
“Chessie. Listen, aye? Ain’t pullin some—”
“Would you just fuck off? Just take me home, I want to go home.”
“Chess—”
Her feet were too big; she stumbled over them as she backed up, making sure to get out of his reach. The tears, the pain, they were all still there, she didn’t think they would ever leave, but anger started to sidle up to them as well and she welcomed it.
Anger at him, anger at herself for being so stupid that she believed. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll call Lex. He’ll come for me.”
The rough edges of his voice scratched her skin; the anger in it, in him, beat against her head like a fucking slab of iron. “One fuckin time more, Chess, I—”
Her phone sat right in its little pocket, right where it was supposed to be. She snatched it, held it up. “I’m calling Lex. He’ll come for me, he’ll take me home. He’ll spend the night, too, if I ask him. Maybe I will. You already think I’m still fucking him, right? You already blame me for it, you don’t trust me anyway. So why not.”
That did it, just like she’d known it would. Even through drugs and tears she saw his face darken, that flush that always gave him away covering his neck, his face. “Bettin he will. Never cared who he fucks, ‘slong as it moves. Ain’t give a shit you too fuckin high to see straight, just—”
“You— What, are you, are you judging me? You? You— Who the fuck are you to— You’re judging me, and you beat people up and kill them for money.”
“Fuckin stop it, that ain’t—”
“What, Terrible? Ain’t what? Yeah, you know, I take drugs. But you sell them. You work for a guy who fucking sells them, so who the fuck are you to say anything.”
His eyes narrowed further by the second; the air around them started practically vibrating against her skin. Oh, he was pissed, getting more so with every word she said, and somewhere in the deep ugly parts of her soul—which was most of it—she was glad. “The fuck did I say? Ain’t—”
“You did, you did, you—you think you’re fucking better than me? Is that—”
“You even know what you sayin? You got—”
“Do I? No, Terrible, I guess I don’t. I guess I’m too fucking high to know, right, just some dumb fucking junkie slut, right?”
“Fucking crazy shit you—”
“Oh, I’m crazy? Crazy dumb junkie slut and her crazy—”
“You need to quit—”
“I don’t need to do shit, not for you.” A chain saw revved in her head, louder and louder, clouding her thoughts and her vision. This couldn’t be happening, this could not fucking be happening, he still didn’t trust her and she wanted to die. “I don’t need to stand here while you act like you’re so much fucking better than me, you asshole. Lex doesn’t judge me, doesn’t pretend he cares—”
“Then why you here, you could be off fuckin Lex? Go on, Chess, give him a ring up. Want me to get gone, you can fuck him right here if you’re wanting, don’t gotta wait, aye?”
“Oh, no, I’m sure I can wait until I get into his car. I know it’ll be worth it.”
“You sure? You don’t wanna go stand on the fuckin street, get ready? Maybe some other else come along first, get a warm-up in?”
“Fuck off! Just— I—you asshole, you fucking asshole, I hate you. I never want to see you again, never.”
“Aye? True thing, you little bitch?”
“Yeah, it is. You think you’re so fucking special, oh big Terrible, so tough, and you’re just a petty fucking thug who thinks he’s better than he is, you beat people up because you can’t do anything else, you—”
His fist came at her so fast she almost didn’t see it; some instinct threw her to the floor. When she looked up his hand was buried in the wall, a good foot and a half or so from where she’d stood. Either he’d deliberately missed her or his aim was off; she didn’t think she wanted to know which.
His chest heaved, his breath like a steam engine in the cool quiet air. His apartment was so still around them, impassive, indifferent to what had just happened; she felt like she was going to die and couldn’t bring herself to care, either. His apartment wasn’t bothered that the silence choked her when it invaded her throat and nose, her lungs; it was a mist over her eyes.
“Thinkin you oughta go,” he said finally. He pulled his hand out of the wall; she caught a glimpse of his knuckles red with blood before he shoved it into his pocket. His other hand covered his face, his mouth, then slid to the back of his neck. “Do whatany you wanting, dig. Just get gone.”
“Fine. I can’t wait to get out of here.”
Her bag sat on the floor in front of the couch, so she had to duck around him to get it, conscious the whole time of him standing there staring at his feet. When she bent over to pick up the strap, she gagged. Fuck, she had to get out of there immediately, faster than that. Had to keep some kind of dignity, at least the kind she’d get from not throwing up on his carpet.
And she was going to throw up, no doubt about that. If only she could puke everything up, all the pain, her stupid hopes, the bullshit of his she’d swallowed whole. How could she have been so fucking stupid?
She’d been so stupid because she loved him so much, and that last thought broke her. She’d never loved anyone like that, not in her whole life—had never loved anyone at all, for that matter—and it was useless and stupid and she’d lost.
She sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep it smooth, but it didn’t work; all she managed was a series of pathetic gulping gasps, the kind that would be sobs with just a little more volume.
She ran for the door, fumbled with the locks. She was going to be sick, she knew it, she swallowed hard over and over to try to stop it.
He appeared at her side. The heat from his skin, the way he smelled, the feel of him so close to her … it had all been a lie, and she’d bought it, and she could never forgive herself.
Yeah, she could add it to the list, right?
He flipped the locks for her, yanked the door open. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see him, hated having to be so close to him as she ducked out the doorway.
His door slammed shut behind her. She ran down the hall on unsteady feet, almost fell on the stairs. Wished she had fallen, and broken her stupid fucking neck on the way. Even the City would be better than this, this ache that enveloped her whole body, clouded her head.
Cool, damp night air hit her face when she stepped onto the dark empty street. It didn’t help. Nothing would help, but at least she was alone. Her head hit the brick wall and she was sick, messily, shamefully sick there on the street like a fucking animal. No wonder he hated her, no wonder she disgusted him. She was disgusting.
And she couldn’t breathe. Between her sob-choked throat and her stiff painful lungs, every intake of air feeling like a million tiny knives and her body trying to get rid of everything she’d eaten or drunk, every pill she’d ever taken—fat chance of that one—she couldn’t get any air in at all.
At least the wall was cool against her feverish head. Her phone was still in her hand; she checked it, saw that Lex had responded and was on his way, and thought she’d never felt so grateful to him. Well, maybe when he saved her life, but— No. No, she was definitely more grateful now.
Too bad she couldn’t enjoy it. The sobs kept coming, burbling up out of her throat, ragged, broken sobs that hurt. Fuck, fuck … how had that happened, how could she have been so stupid, she knew how stupid it was, knew she’d end up hurt, and for what.
What the fuck had she taken that chance for, gambled her fucking heart and soul for? A chance to see Terrible naked? To spend long delirious nights in bed, shivering when he touched her, when he whispered her name in the
darkness? To wake up in the morning with him beside her, to have him look at her like she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen? She’d given up everything just for a chance to feel whole, to feel like she was valuable to somebody, mattered to somebody. And she wasn’t, and she didn’t.
No wonder he hadn’t wanted anyone to know about them. It wasn’t to keep her safe, it was because he was lying. Because he was using her to find out whatever he could about Lex and Slobag.
She managed to stumble along, hugging the wall, to the corner where she’d told Lex to pick her up, and huddled shivering on the cold pavement. She couldn’t stop shaking. Fuck, she was a mess. Tears pouring from her eyes, her supply of tissues barely enough to keep her nose from dripping all over everything else, her throat killing her, her chest aching, her head—well, the less said about that the better.
In the distance a scream, some breaking glass. Typical night sounds. Maybe she should walk that way, maybe she could get someone to finish the job Terrible had started.
Lex could take her to the pipe room. Yes. She’d have him drop her at the pipe room, and lay down in the thick sweet honey-smoke haze until she forgot it all, forgot everything. It sounded so good she would have given her life for it.
And maybe she had.
Headlights in the distance, getting larger. Lex. Her shoulders dropped, a tiny bit of her tension easing. He was there, he’d come for her. She owed him for that, big time. She managed to make it to his car and open the door, managed to plunk herself down on the seat and get her legs inside.
“What the fuck, Tulip? Lookin like you ain’t slept in a month, an you got somebody hittin you— Terrible ain’t hit you, aye? Did he—”
“No,” she managed. “No, he didn’t hit me. Can we not talk about it, please? Can you just take me to the pipe room by my house?”