Poison Promise
Page 28
“Here we go,” Bria said, her voice lost in the continued cracks of gunfire, as she eyed the rippling water below us. “One . . . two . . . three!”
She yanked me off the bridge with her.
22
For a moment, the sensation was the same as the Burn drug—that airy feeling of flying, flying high. I laughed at how good it felt to just be . . . free. My head snapped back, and all I could see was the blue, blue sky, dotted here and there with marshmallow clouds, just like in my hallucinations.
But then gravity took over, the way it always did, sucking me back down to earth and reality. My head dropped, along with my body, and the rush of air tore away the rest of my crazy, cackling laughter. Instead of a pit of imaginary fire, the dark and very real surface of the Aneirin River thirty feet below zoomed up to meet me, the water ready to close over me in its cold, deadly embrace.
And then the boat popped into view.
It was the same speedboat I’d seen before, and it slowed down so that it was in sync with Bria and me and our downward plummet. This time, I didn’t have to worry about falling, because someone was there to catch me—Owen.
He was standing at the back of the boat, along with Xavier. Bria’s feet hit the ledge at the very rear of the vessel, her arms windmilling as she tried to find her balance, but Xavier reached out and grabbed her before she tumbled backward into the water. I actually landed square in the center of the boat, almost right on top of Owen, who reached out and took hold of me, keeping me from slamming face-first into one of the leather seats. The impact jarred me from my bare feet all the way up to my knees, before shooting up my legs and through my h*ps and back. Bones crunched together in my right ankle, making me yelp, and the bag of knives hanging off my wrist slammed into my side hard enough to bruise my ribs.
“We’ve got them!” Xavier yelled. “Go! Go! Go! Go!”
The engine roared, and the boat started picking up speed again, racing away from the bridge. But the vamps who’d been chasing Bria and me weren’t ready to give up. They skidded to a stop on the span, took aim with their weapons, and started firing at us. The bullets plop-plop-plopped into the water all around us. Xavier pulled the gun from the holster on his belt and returned their fire. So did Bria.
But one vamp was a little quicker and braver than all the others. He hopped up onto the bridge railing, then leaped off, trying to launch himself far enough out to land in the boat with the rest of us. His legs pumped, like he was riding a bicycle in midair, and he reached out with one hand . . .
And landed in the river three feet behind us.
The resulting splash sprayed us all with water. I laughed again as the cool, wet drops trickled down my face.
“Get us out of here!” Owen yelled. “Now!”
The engine whined, louder and harder this time, and the boat picked up more and more speed as it zoomed away from the bridge.
The sounds of gunfire faded away, drowned out by the powerful motor, and I knew that we were finally safe. I laughed at that too.
Owen helped me sit up against the side of the boat, his hands stroking my sweaty, tangled mess of hair back away from my face. Worry darkened his violet gaze. “Gin! Are you okay?”
I finally managed to get my crazy chuckles under control enough to smile at him, although the expression was more of a grimace, given the shooting pains in my ankle. “Never better.”
Owen smiled back at me, but the relieved expression quickly melted into a concerned frown. “What happened? What did Benson do to you?”
And just like that, the rest of my laughter dried up, and tears pricked my eyes instead. I told myself it was because of my broken ankle. Nothing else.
“Gin?” he asked again.
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it. Not now, not yet. Maybe not ever. Because I could still remember all too clearly the horrible, horrible thoughts I’d had about Owen, Finn, and especially Bria while I’d been riding high on Burn. How I’d thought that I was better than them. How I didn’t need them. How they were weak. How Bria was a burden.
Guilt and shame surged through me, burning even worse than the drug.
Owen opened his mouth to ask me another question, but I leaned to one side, looking past him at the person driving the speedboat—a tall, muscular man with blue eyes and golden hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“And here I thought that you only had the one really big boat,” I said, trying to make my voice light and teasing, despite the pain that rasped through my words.
Phillip Kincaid looked over his shoulder and grinned at me, a few strands of hair flying around his face. “What can I say? I like to diversify.”
I laughed again, even as the rest of my strength evaporated and my body slumped against the side of the boat. My arms and legs felt cold, numb, and nerveless, except for the throbbing pain in my ankle.
“Call Jo-Jo,” Bria said, somewhere far over my head. “Benson really did a number on her.”
Fear and panic pulsed through my body, sharper and more painful than all my injuries. Jo-Jo couldn’t heal me. I was hanging on to my sanity by a thread. The feel of any more magic right now would snap that slender strand.
I clutched at Owen, panting for breath. “No healing. No magic. Too much . . . of it . . . in Burn.”
He frowned. “Burn has magic in it?”
I nodded, trying not to hyperventilate.
“It’s okay, Gin,” Owen said, gently cradling me in his arms. “Calm down. Just breathe. You’re safe now.”
I turned my head so that my face was buried in his neck and did as he said, drawing his rich, metallic scent deep down into my lungs, trying to clear the lemony stench of the lab from my mouth and throat, if not my mind and heart.
“Safe,” I replied, although my voice was so soft I doubted he heard me.
Then my eyes closed, and I let the blackness take me.
•
Coral’s laughter echoed in my ears as I followed her into the Southtown apartment building. The door banged shut behind me, making me jump and yelp.
Coral laughed again, her voice sly with amusement. “Relax. It’s just a door. It won’t bite you. This way, kid.”
Her heels clattered on the floor ahead of me, and I hurried to follow the noise. The inside of the building was almost pitch black, and I ran my hand along the wall so I wouldn’t bump into anything. The smell of burnt popcorn, scorched coffee, and Chinese food filled my nose, while my shoes scuffed through old newspapers, empty cans, and wet, squishy blobs on the floor—some of which squeaked and skittered away at my touch. Most likely trash, vomit, and rats, all of which I was better off not seeing. I shuddered and walked on.
Coral pushed through a door at the end of the hallway, and we stepped outside into a large square courtyard surrounded by buildings on all sides. I blinked against the bright, sudden glare. The buildings were all four stories tall, each with a set of stairs climbing from one level to the next. Doors lined all of the levels, from the ground floor to the top story. No one stood on the balconies or perched on the stairs, but music drifted out from behind some of the doors, while TVs blared behind others.
“This courtyard connects all of these buildings,” Coral said. “Here, I’ll show you.”
My stomach grumbled again, wondering when we were going to get to the food she’d promised me, but I kept quiet as she strolled around the square, opening some of the doors on the other buildings, leading me down hallways and back out again.
Several minutes later, we ended up back where we’d started in the center of the courtyard.
“Um, why are you showing me all of this?”
“Because it’s always good to have an escape route,” Coral said in a wise, knowing voice. “Trust me on that.”
I sighed, and my stomach gurgled, the grinding noise rising to a plaintive wail.
She laughed again, then gave me a dazzling smile. “But enough with the grand tour. C’mon. Let’s go to my place.”
She looped her arm through mine and led me over to a set of stairs in the first building we’d walked through. We climbed all the way up to the fourth floor and went over to a door in the corner.
“Home, sweet home,” Coral said, opening the door and stepping inside.
I followed her, and she closed the door behind us, throwing a series of locks.
Click. Click. Click.
The sounds seemed even louder than the banging door downstairs earlier, and I had to curl my hands into fists to keep from jumping in surprise again. To take my mind off the fact that I was locked in an apartment with a complete stranger, I focused on the scene before me.
The apartment was tiny, with the main area only about twenty-five feet square. A door to the right led to a small bedroom, with an even smaller bathroom attached to it. A stove splattered with grease stains stood along one wall, next to an old pea-green refrigerator with rusty dents in the sides. An orange plastic table with two mismatched lawn chairs was squeezed in between the fridge and a blue plaid couch covered with threadbare blankets and flat pancake pillows.
“So what do you think?” Coral asked.
“It’s nice.”
She snorted. “It’s a dump is what it is. But it’s mostly mine, and that’s all that matters, right?”
“Why just mostly?”
She waved her hand. “I have a . . . landlord who drops by sometimes. But I can handle him.”
I knew that she really meant her pimp, but I didn’t say anything.
Coral bumped her skinny leg into the rickety coffee table, rattling several open, empty pill bottles sitting there and causing a bit of white powder to puff up from the wooden surface. She saw me staring at the bottles, and she stepped toward me, her eyes narrowing, her lips twisting into an angry snarl, her hands clenching into fists. It almost seemed like she thought I was going to try to steal something off the table, even though it was just junk.
“What’s with all the bottles?” I asked, trying not to shrink away in fear. “Have you been sick?”
“Yeah. Something like that.” She stepped back, her face smoothed out, and her fists loosened. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
Coral circled around me. I tried not to fidget as her hazel eyes swept over my body from head to toe.
“You’re in pretty good shape, all things considered.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, except for how you smell. So what do you want first, kid? Food or a hot shower?”
The choice was easy. “Food.”
“Smart girl.”
She went over to the fridge, pulled open the door, and drew out a white paper bag. The top of the bag had been rolled down, but a pink figure was printed on the side. I squinted. Was that a . . . pig?
“You like barbecue?” Coral asked. “It’s day-old leftovers, but they warm up good.”
My stomach rumbled again, answering her.
Coral unwrapped half of a barbecued beef sandwich, slapped it on a paper plate, and shoved the whole thing into a microwave that perched precariously on top of the fridge. A minute later, she set the sandwich in front of me at the table.
“Enjoy.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I picked up the sandwich and started taking big bites out of it, chewing and swallowing as fast as I could, just in case she changed her mind and tried to take it away from me. The sandwich was hot, too hot to eat, really, but the sweet-and-spicy sauce and the smoky flavor of the meat were so good that I didn’t care that it burned my tongue. I ate that sandwich, then used my fingers to scoop up the stray bits of meat and sauce that had soaked into the paper plate and sucked them up too.
When I was done, I looked at Coral, a silent question in my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve got another sandwich you can eat—later. First, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I made a noise of protest, wanting the food right now, since I was still so hungry, but Coral grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom. She opened the closet and started rifling through the clothes inside.
“Here,” she said. “You can put these on when you get done.”
She held up a tank top and a pair of short-shorts, both in black satin. I didn’t want to wear the clothes, since I would freeze in them, but they were clean, and she’d been so nice to me so far, so I just nodded and took them from her.
Coral jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “The bathroom’s right there. Try not to use up all the hot water, okay?”
“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the skimpy clothes to my chest. “For everything.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. Coral frowned, and a shadow passed over her face, but the dark expression quickly melted into her usual sunny smile.
“No problem, kid.”
She winked at me again, then stepped back out into the main room, pulling the door to the bedroom up behind her.
I went into the bathroom, stripped off my filthy clothes, and got into the shower. I moaned at how good the hot water felt cascading over my skin, and I used up the better part of a bar of soap scrubbing myself from head to toe, along with half a bottle of shampoo washing my nasty rat’s nest of hair.
By the time I finished, I felt more like myself than I had in, well, since the night my family had been murdered. Sure, this apartment wasn’t much, not nearly as fancy as my bedroom had been, but the thought of leaving it behind and going back out onto the streets filled me with dread. Maybe Coral would be nice enough to let me stay with her for a few days. I could help her. Cook and clean and do whatever she wanted me to.
I’d do just about anything to keep from being cold and hungry and tired and scared again.
I wrapped a towel around my body and grabbed the black satin tank top and short-shorts from where I’d put them on the closed toilet lid. But instead of putting them on, I hesitated. Maybe Coral would let me stay if I didn’t use so many of her things, including her clothes. It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
She yanked me off the bridge with her.
22
For a moment, the sensation was the same as the Burn drug—that airy feeling of flying, flying high. I laughed at how good it felt to just be . . . free. My head snapped back, and all I could see was the blue, blue sky, dotted here and there with marshmallow clouds, just like in my hallucinations.
But then gravity took over, the way it always did, sucking me back down to earth and reality. My head dropped, along with my body, and the rush of air tore away the rest of my crazy, cackling laughter. Instead of a pit of imaginary fire, the dark and very real surface of the Aneirin River thirty feet below zoomed up to meet me, the water ready to close over me in its cold, deadly embrace.
And then the boat popped into view.
It was the same speedboat I’d seen before, and it slowed down so that it was in sync with Bria and me and our downward plummet. This time, I didn’t have to worry about falling, because someone was there to catch me—Owen.
He was standing at the back of the boat, along with Xavier. Bria’s feet hit the ledge at the very rear of the vessel, her arms windmilling as she tried to find her balance, but Xavier reached out and grabbed her before she tumbled backward into the water. I actually landed square in the center of the boat, almost right on top of Owen, who reached out and took hold of me, keeping me from slamming face-first into one of the leather seats. The impact jarred me from my bare feet all the way up to my knees, before shooting up my legs and through my h*ps and back. Bones crunched together in my right ankle, making me yelp, and the bag of knives hanging off my wrist slammed into my side hard enough to bruise my ribs.
“We’ve got them!” Xavier yelled. “Go! Go! Go! Go!”
The engine roared, and the boat started picking up speed again, racing away from the bridge. But the vamps who’d been chasing Bria and me weren’t ready to give up. They skidded to a stop on the span, took aim with their weapons, and started firing at us. The bullets plop-plop-plopped into the water all around us. Xavier pulled the gun from the holster on his belt and returned their fire. So did Bria.
But one vamp was a little quicker and braver than all the others. He hopped up onto the bridge railing, then leaped off, trying to launch himself far enough out to land in the boat with the rest of us. His legs pumped, like he was riding a bicycle in midair, and he reached out with one hand . . .
And landed in the river three feet behind us.
The resulting splash sprayed us all with water. I laughed again as the cool, wet drops trickled down my face.
“Get us out of here!” Owen yelled. “Now!”
The engine whined, louder and harder this time, and the boat picked up more and more speed as it zoomed away from the bridge.
The sounds of gunfire faded away, drowned out by the powerful motor, and I knew that we were finally safe. I laughed at that too.
Owen helped me sit up against the side of the boat, his hands stroking my sweaty, tangled mess of hair back away from my face. Worry darkened his violet gaze. “Gin! Are you okay?”
I finally managed to get my crazy chuckles under control enough to smile at him, although the expression was more of a grimace, given the shooting pains in my ankle. “Never better.”
Owen smiled back at me, but the relieved expression quickly melted into a concerned frown. “What happened? What did Benson do to you?”
And just like that, the rest of my laughter dried up, and tears pricked my eyes instead. I told myself it was because of my broken ankle. Nothing else.
“Gin?” he asked again.
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it. Not now, not yet. Maybe not ever. Because I could still remember all too clearly the horrible, horrible thoughts I’d had about Owen, Finn, and especially Bria while I’d been riding high on Burn. How I’d thought that I was better than them. How I didn’t need them. How they were weak. How Bria was a burden.
Guilt and shame surged through me, burning even worse than the drug.
Owen opened his mouth to ask me another question, but I leaned to one side, looking past him at the person driving the speedboat—a tall, muscular man with blue eyes and golden hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“And here I thought that you only had the one really big boat,” I said, trying to make my voice light and teasing, despite the pain that rasped through my words.
Phillip Kincaid looked over his shoulder and grinned at me, a few strands of hair flying around his face. “What can I say? I like to diversify.”
I laughed again, even as the rest of my strength evaporated and my body slumped against the side of the boat. My arms and legs felt cold, numb, and nerveless, except for the throbbing pain in my ankle.
“Call Jo-Jo,” Bria said, somewhere far over my head. “Benson really did a number on her.”
Fear and panic pulsed through my body, sharper and more painful than all my injuries. Jo-Jo couldn’t heal me. I was hanging on to my sanity by a thread. The feel of any more magic right now would snap that slender strand.
I clutched at Owen, panting for breath. “No healing. No magic. Too much . . . of it . . . in Burn.”
He frowned. “Burn has magic in it?”
I nodded, trying not to hyperventilate.
“It’s okay, Gin,” Owen said, gently cradling me in his arms. “Calm down. Just breathe. You’re safe now.”
I turned my head so that my face was buried in his neck and did as he said, drawing his rich, metallic scent deep down into my lungs, trying to clear the lemony stench of the lab from my mouth and throat, if not my mind and heart.
“Safe,” I replied, although my voice was so soft I doubted he heard me.
Then my eyes closed, and I let the blackness take me.
•
Coral’s laughter echoed in my ears as I followed her into the Southtown apartment building. The door banged shut behind me, making me jump and yelp.
Coral laughed again, her voice sly with amusement. “Relax. It’s just a door. It won’t bite you. This way, kid.”
Her heels clattered on the floor ahead of me, and I hurried to follow the noise. The inside of the building was almost pitch black, and I ran my hand along the wall so I wouldn’t bump into anything. The smell of burnt popcorn, scorched coffee, and Chinese food filled my nose, while my shoes scuffed through old newspapers, empty cans, and wet, squishy blobs on the floor—some of which squeaked and skittered away at my touch. Most likely trash, vomit, and rats, all of which I was better off not seeing. I shuddered and walked on.
Coral pushed through a door at the end of the hallway, and we stepped outside into a large square courtyard surrounded by buildings on all sides. I blinked against the bright, sudden glare. The buildings were all four stories tall, each with a set of stairs climbing from one level to the next. Doors lined all of the levels, from the ground floor to the top story. No one stood on the balconies or perched on the stairs, but music drifted out from behind some of the doors, while TVs blared behind others.
“This courtyard connects all of these buildings,” Coral said. “Here, I’ll show you.”
My stomach grumbled again, wondering when we were going to get to the food she’d promised me, but I kept quiet as she strolled around the square, opening some of the doors on the other buildings, leading me down hallways and back out again.
Several minutes later, we ended up back where we’d started in the center of the courtyard.
“Um, why are you showing me all of this?”
“Because it’s always good to have an escape route,” Coral said in a wise, knowing voice. “Trust me on that.”
I sighed, and my stomach gurgled, the grinding noise rising to a plaintive wail.
She laughed again, then gave me a dazzling smile. “But enough with the grand tour. C’mon. Let’s go to my place.”
She looped her arm through mine and led me over to a set of stairs in the first building we’d walked through. We climbed all the way up to the fourth floor and went over to a door in the corner.
“Home, sweet home,” Coral said, opening the door and stepping inside.
I followed her, and she closed the door behind us, throwing a series of locks.
Click. Click. Click.
The sounds seemed even louder than the banging door downstairs earlier, and I had to curl my hands into fists to keep from jumping in surprise again. To take my mind off the fact that I was locked in an apartment with a complete stranger, I focused on the scene before me.
The apartment was tiny, with the main area only about twenty-five feet square. A door to the right led to a small bedroom, with an even smaller bathroom attached to it. A stove splattered with grease stains stood along one wall, next to an old pea-green refrigerator with rusty dents in the sides. An orange plastic table with two mismatched lawn chairs was squeezed in between the fridge and a blue plaid couch covered with threadbare blankets and flat pancake pillows.
“So what do you think?” Coral asked.
“It’s nice.”
She snorted. “It’s a dump is what it is. But it’s mostly mine, and that’s all that matters, right?”
“Why just mostly?”
She waved her hand. “I have a . . . landlord who drops by sometimes. But I can handle him.”
I knew that she really meant her pimp, but I didn’t say anything.
Coral bumped her skinny leg into the rickety coffee table, rattling several open, empty pill bottles sitting there and causing a bit of white powder to puff up from the wooden surface. She saw me staring at the bottles, and she stepped toward me, her eyes narrowing, her lips twisting into an angry snarl, her hands clenching into fists. It almost seemed like she thought I was going to try to steal something off the table, even though it was just junk.
“What’s with all the bottles?” I asked, trying not to shrink away in fear. “Have you been sick?”
“Yeah. Something like that.” She stepped back, her face smoothed out, and her fists loosened. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
Coral circled around me. I tried not to fidget as her hazel eyes swept over my body from head to toe.
“You’re in pretty good shape, all things considered.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, except for how you smell. So what do you want first, kid? Food or a hot shower?”
The choice was easy. “Food.”
“Smart girl.”
She went over to the fridge, pulled open the door, and drew out a white paper bag. The top of the bag had been rolled down, but a pink figure was printed on the side. I squinted. Was that a . . . pig?
“You like barbecue?” Coral asked. “It’s day-old leftovers, but they warm up good.”
My stomach rumbled again, answering her.
Coral unwrapped half of a barbecued beef sandwich, slapped it on a paper plate, and shoved the whole thing into a microwave that perched precariously on top of the fridge. A minute later, she set the sandwich in front of me at the table.
“Enjoy.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I picked up the sandwich and started taking big bites out of it, chewing and swallowing as fast as I could, just in case she changed her mind and tried to take it away from me. The sandwich was hot, too hot to eat, really, but the sweet-and-spicy sauce and the smoky flavor of the meat were so good that I didn’t care that it burned my tongue. I ate that sandwich, then used my fingers to scoop up the stray bits of meat and sauce that had soaked into the paper plate and sucked them up too.
When I was done, I looked at Coral, a silent question in my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve got another sandwich you can eat—later. First, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I made a noise of protest, wanting the food right now, since I was still so hungry, but Coral grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom. She opened the closet and started rifling through the clothes inside.
“Here,” she said. “You can put these on when you get done.”
She held up a tank top and a pair of short-shorts, both in black satin. I didn’t want to wear the clothes, since I would freeze in them, but they were clean, and she’d been so nice to me so far, so I just nodded and took them from her.
Coral jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “The bathroom’s right there. Try not to use up all the hot water, okay?”
“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the skimpy clothes to my chest. “For everything.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. Coral frowned, and a shadow passed over her face, but the dark expression quickly melted into her usual sunny smile.
“No problem, kid.”
She winked at me again, then stepped back out into the main room, pulling the door to the bedroom up behind her.
I went into the bathroom, stripped off my filthy clothes, and got into the shower. I moaned at how good the hot water felt cascading over my skin, and I used up the better part of a bar of soap scrubbing myself from head to toe, along with half a bottle of shampoo washing my nasty rat’s nest of hair.
By the time I finished, I felt more like myself than I had in, well, since the night my family had been murdered. Sure, this apartment wasn’t much, not nearly as fancy as my bedroom had been, but the thought of leaving it behind and going back out onto the streets filled me with dread. Maybe Coral would be nice enough to let me stay with her for a few days. I could help her. Cook and clean and do whatever she wanted me to.
I’d do just about anything to keep from being cold and hungry and tired and scared again.
I wrapped a towel around my body and grabbed the black satin tank top and short-shorts from where I’d put them on the closed toilet lid. But instead of putting them on, I hesitated. Maybe Coral would let me stay if I didn’t use so many of her things, including her clothes. It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?
