Song for the Dead: An Ada Palomino Novel

by Karina Halle

  “So they really didn’t bother with us.”

  “Guess not.”

  I pause, sucking on my lip. “Are you going to have to kiss me every time they’re near?”

  A beat passes. “I think it’s a good idea, don’t you?”

  I’m so glad it’s dark right now so he can’t see the absolutely stupid grin I have on my face.

  Fourteen

  “Like keys and dreams and old tattoos, with one quick twist,

  love turns to scar.”

  – Hideaway

  Fortunately, we don’t come across any more demons on the way to the Airbnb in Yucca Valley.

  Unfortunately, that means Max has had no excuse to kiss me. I’m starting to think that this whole thing is one big joke to him, that whatever demon lady said about his feelings for me aren’t what I think they are. Or hope they are. Just has me on a wild-goose chase, looking at Max in a new light, trying to figure him out, figure us out.

  I mean, yeah, I know he’s fond of me. He likes me as a person. I asked him that, as one does. Even if he just thinks of me as his friend’s little sister, maybe that’s enough to complicate things. Maybe he’s not supposed to have any attachments to people at all.

  But the thing is, we’re bound together, so that pushes our relationship to the next level. As casual as things between us seem to be, it’s also not. I’m always aware, even if just in the back of my brain, that there’s a lot riding on the two of us being together. It’s a life-or-death situation here, and I’m the one in control.

  Which has put a lot of pressure on me, even if it doesn’t feel like it at times. I’m in charge of his life and that’s…a lot. It’s a lot to handle and come to terms with. Maybe that’s what’s twisting my own feelings for Max, making them more than they should be. Maybe I have a misplaced sense of duty to him. Maybe I’m as dependent on him as he is on me.

  Or maybe it’s just fucking nice to be needed for once.

  Honestly, there’s only one way to settle this.

  I need to sleep with him.

  Literally need to have sex with him.

  If he can fuck as good as he kisses, then that’s all I need to know where I stand and where he stands too.

  Don’t you think that will complicate things? the voice in my head pipes up.

  But it’s already fucking complicated, no matter what I do.

  Sigh.

  I feel his eyes on me in the dark of the car as we pull down a quiet street with bungalows, the moon lower on the horizon. I dare to meet them, wondering if he picked up on what I was thinking. There’s heat in his eyes, this dark intensity that I don’t see too often, the kind of look that makes my stomach flip.

  I could crawl across the console and climb on top of him. We don’t even need to go inside the house. Just straddle him, kiss him, reach down and unzip his jeans…

  That heat in his eyes flares, turning a supersaturated green that gleams in the car and he licks his lips, swallows, and I swear the tension between us is straining under the weight of his gaze. It’s ready to snap.

  “Are you still high?”

  His question catches me off-guard. I have to blink a few times, like I’ve been stuck in a cloud, like I can’t see straight.

  “What?” I whisper, my voice coming out husky.

  “The Vicodin,” he says.

  Why is he asking me if I’m still high?

  Oh my god. Maybe he is reading my thoughts, trying to look for an excuse for them. But I guarantee what I’m feeling isn’t the drugs.

  Least I don’t think.

  “No, it’s wearing off,” I tell him, my breath returning.

  “You got to be careful with that stuff,” he says to me, parking the car. “Might make you feel things that aren’t real. Make you want to do things you shouldn’t.” Then he dips his head and looks out my window. “This seems to be the place.”

  Before I can find my words, he’s opening the door and heading to the trunk, leaving me in the passenger seat. Was that his subtle way of telling me to back off? Can’t he be man enough to just tell it to me straight? I’m tired of drowning in all this murky uncertainty. He’s the one who just kissed me back there!

  I unbuckle my seat belt and scamper out of the car, storming toward him.

  “Hey!” I tell him sharply as he brings out my suitcase and closes the trunk.

  “Hey what?” he says, his tone matching mine, letting the suitcase clatter to the ground.

  I step right up to him, jab my finger in his chest. “You’re supposed to be the straight shooter here. That’s what you always say, no secrets, no lies, no bullshit. But you’re keeping me in the dark on purpose now.”

  “No one is keeping you in the dark,” he says, glaring at me, but he’s lying, I know it, I can tell.

  “You are. You’re hiding things from me.”

  “Oh am I?” he asks sharply, eyes glinting. “Is that why you decided to poke around inside my head? Did you find what you’re looking for?”

  “No, I didn’t,” I tell him. “I wanted to know how you felt about me.”

  He’s taken aback. “How I felt about you?”

  “The demon told me you have feelings for me,” I tell him, feeling a little stupid, like maybe I shouldn’t have just admitted that.

  “Oh yeah?” he says, brows coming together, stepping closer to me until my finger bends and I’m pressing my hand against his chest, no distance between us. “What else did she tell you that you’ve happened to keep to yourself?”

  “Nothing.”

  His eyes narrow as he stares at me. “And you have the nerve to say I’m hiding things.”

  “Then tell me. Tell me you have no feelings for me! Tell me you don’t want me and then I’ll just…back off.”

  His eyes search mine with frantic energy, a kaleidoscope of emotions running through them, the heat from his chest short-circuiting against my palm.

  “Who said I don’t want you?” he asks gruffly, gaze dropping to my lips. He places a hand at my chin, holding my face still. “Huh? Who said that? You?”

  I stare at his mouth, feeling intoxicated by the weight of his stare. I swallow, finding it hard to breathe. “You kissed me back there and then acted like it didn’t matter to you. Like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to me. And no, it’s not the drugs talking.”

  “Ada,” he says, clearing his throat, his hand letting go of my chin and moving back into my hair, his eyes following, roaming over my face. “There’s a very thin line that I don’t want to cross.”

  “Because it’s against the rules,” I say, keeping my voice low, my eyes closing briefly as he holds the back of my neck.

  “The rules?” He lets out a soft laugh, his fingers pressing into my scalp, gliding up into my hair until my entire body feels like its sparkling on the inside. “I’m my own person. I don’t have any rules to follow. And if I did, I’d break every one of them.”

  “But not for me.” My chest squeezes with rejection. I keep my eyes closed. “You don’t…I’m not…”

  “Sweetheart,” he says to me, his voice causing a cascade of shivers down my spine, “you’re all I fucking think about, all the damn time. I’m thinking about you even when you’re right here in front of me.” He pauses. “To say I want you is a fucking understatement.”

  I open my eyes.

  “Then find your balls and do something about it.”

  He nearly flinches at that. His eyes glint, his nostrils flare, his hands in my hair become a tight fist.

  He moves fast.

  Leans in.

  Covers my mouth with his, lips moving with a violence that makes my toes curl in my boots, causes my knees to buckle.

  I’m dying.

  I’m so alive.

  The wet slide of his tongue loosens whatever inhibition I had left, spurns on this insatiable hunger for him and from the way he’s devouring me, the way his hands move along my waist now, sliding up my shirt, I know he feels the same way.

  Y
es, please, fucking touch me.

  His hand goes over my breast, thumb sliding over my nipple and I’m jolting from the contact, the kiss deepening until I’m pressed back against the trunk. Then he’s lifting me up again, placing me on the car, and I’m wrapping my legs around his waist, wanting so much more than the last time.

  I reach down, press my palm against his crotch, nearly gasping at the size of him, how hard he is, heat between my own legs flaring. Now I really know how he feels.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he says breathlessly, pulling away. I grip him through his jeans, his eyes pinching shut, a throaty moan falling from his mouth.

  I don’t care if the neighbors are watching, I want him, all of him.

  Now.

  “Ada,” he murmurs, voice caught in his throat as he brings his mouth to my neck, sucking my skin, making my eyes roll back in my head. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

  I grip him harder, trying to meet his eyes. “I think I’m making myself very clear.”

  I bring out another rich groan from him, the gleam in his eyes turning savage. His hands come to my head, holding me as his nose brushes against the tip of mine.

  “Then I’ll make myself clear,” he says gruffly. “I know I could take you inside, fuck your brains out. Make you come, make you scream, make you beg for more. Lord knows I’ve been dreaming about it from day one. And I’ll do it. I’ll blow your fucking mind. So as long as you know what this is to you. What I am to you. I’m your rebound, Ada.”

  I stare him dumbly, my entire body flushed with heat, squirming from his beautiful dirty mouth, too stupid to make sense of things. “Rebound?”

  He nods, studying my lips.

  “But what if you’re more than that?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid that’s all I ever can be to you.”

  I reach up, running my hand over his hair, not understanding. I know that this might seem to a rebound, but…it’s not. There’s more to it.

  He straightens up slightly, putting space back between us.

  “I’m going to see Rose. And before that, you’re going to see Jay.”

  “Jay?” The mention of his name is like being doused with ice water. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know our route. The I-10 takes us right through Tucson. You said he was there. You know you’re going to try and find him.”

  I blink, looking away, my chest aching with dread, because he’s right. That’s what I was planning on doing. I was hoping that when we drove through Tucson, I could put my feelers out. Maybe I could find Jay on energy and instinct alone. Maybe I go to him through the Veil. Maybe we could just luck upon his house. I remember what it looks like.

  And then what? What’s the plan?

  What do I want from him anymore?

  Max puts his hands on my waist and gently places me on the ground before picking up the suitcases. “We’ll hit Tucson tomorrow. It’s a long drive. Better get some rest.”

  And, just like that, he starts taking the suitcases to our little bungalow for the night, leaving me a confused wreck of overturned emotions and a severe case of lady blue-balls. To say I’m hard up is selling it short.

  I watch him go for a moment, then close my eyes, open my chest and take in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, tame my wild brain.

  This can’t keep happening.

  So fucking close, and yet so far.

  I exhale slowly, still shaking.

  Then I go after him into the house.

  It’s nice, albeit small, and there’s only one bedroom with one bed. A queen-sized too. I swear to god I didn’t plan it that way, it was just the only B&B available on such a short notice.

  So, about that whole fucking my brains out part, I want to say, but he speaks first.

  “I’ll take the couch,” he says, putting his suitcase in the tiny living room.

  “What?” I ask, my ribs feeling tight. “Why?”

  “Think it’s better that way,” he says, glancing at me briefly, giving me a small smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.

  I want to bring up everything that just happened out there, the fact that he was okay with being my rebound, if that’s what this happens to be, but I stop myself. I’m tired of chasing him, poking him, prodding him, trying to get a reaction. I did the same with Jay, and look where that got me. Now I’m falling into old habits with Max.

  I think it’s about time I back off.

  He can sort himself out.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “Suit yourself.”

  Then I grab my suitcase and haul it to the bedroom, shutting the door to a million opportunities lying in wait.

  Things are back to being awkward again.

  At least in my head.

  Max seems somewhat jovial as we head down Interstate 10 into Arizona, but I know it’s all for show. Now that I’m aware of what really lurks beneath him, all that empty black space, I can see when it rises to the surface. He gets this dark look in his eyes that even the most charming smile can’t wash away.

  Last night I could barely sleep. I was so conscious of him being in the other room, and it was the first time we’d slept in other rooms in a long time. Actually, since we left Portland.

  I kept playing over everything in my head. The way he kissed me, touched me, how he said he couldn’t stop thinking about me despite me being around him 24/7, the things he wanted to do to me: make me come, make me scream, make me beg. I mean, holy fuck was that hot.

  Hot enough that the only way I could sleep was to get myself off a bunch of times and I didn’t even bother being quiet for the last one. If he heard me, then good. That’s what he gets for not following through.

  But this morning he was acting like everything was normal, and when I asked him how he slept he just shrugged and said fine. Bastard.

  He does seem to be in a rush today. We’ve only stopped for gas and he’s had the pedal to the floor the whole time. I guess his sense of urgency is starting to kick in when it comes to getting New Orleans.

  Of course, the faster he drives, the quicker we get to Tucson and, honestly, I don’t think I’m ready for it.

  I keep going over in my head what I would say to Jay if I saw him face to face and not in some dream. If I really knew it was real.

  And…I don’t know.

  I keep thinking I need to get some closure from him but in some ways, I feel like I already have my closure.

  He made his choice.

  He didn’t want to be with me.

  And he may have loved me at some point but that love clearly wasn’t enough. He chose his role over me.

  I have to learn to be okay with that.

  Rejection sucks, especially when it’s your first love, someone you fell head over heels for, that you lost yourself to. Jay was everything to me. For the first time, I knew what it was like to have someone be my everything.

  And then I learned what it was like to lose that.

  I’m thinking that over, lost in my thoughts, trying to figure everything out, as the desert flies past. The sun is bright, the land barren, the kind of landscape that makes your mind stretch into infinity. Things repeat, like clockwork, until time doesn’t seem to matter much.

  I think Max is locked in the same time warp. Occasionally I steal a look at him, at his big hands on the steering wheel, the bulk of his muscles in his white tee, and I think about last night. Then I think about all that he’s hiding underneath. All that I am too.

  Eventually Max takes an exit into Tucson, my stomach immediately getting queasy.

  “Where are we going?” I ask nervously.

  “Where do you think?” he says, eyeing me briefly.

  “I don’t know where he lives.”

  “I might.”

  This is news. “What do you mean? You have a ginger locator?”

  He smiles. “Kind of. We’re all kind of connected in a way, if you want to go looking for a connection. I can home in on it. If you want me to, of course. Do you want me to?”
/>
  I find myself nodding, even though it doesn’t seem right.

  But I’m also curious to see if Max can find his way there. Add another talent to his resume.

  We drive around for a bit, getting lost in the suburbs, taking a few wrong turns, Max biting his lip in concentration as he drives.

  And then it happens.

  Down a quiet cul-de-sac in the desert, Max pulls to a stop across from a little blue house.

  The house from my dreams.

  “Oh my god,” I gasp, my heart thundering like a wild horse, enough that I have to press my hand against my chest. “This is it. This is the place I went to in my dream.”

  “So you really can move through dreams,” he tells me. “That’s pretty damn impressive, Ada.”

  “No, you’re damn impressive,” I tell him, still breathless. I stare at the house, my hands clawing at my t-shirt, feeling this crazy pull toward the house, but also a pushback. I can’t tell if it’s Jay in there giving off that energy, or if it’s my subconscious. That bitch always seems to know what’s up.

  Should I stay or should I go now? The Clash is riffing through my head.

  “Shall I turn off the car?” Max asks.

  I nod, biting my lip until it bleeds.

  The car goes silent, still, but my heartbeat is shaking me.

  “Take all the time you need,” Max adds softly.

  I look at him, feeling so very afraid. Afraid that by not going into that house and seeing Jay, that I’m going to be missing out on something. Something that might change my life.

  I’m also afraid to stay in this car with Max, because if I do, then it feels like I made a choice. And what if that choice is Max?

  What if I’m supposed to be with you?

  As if Max hears me, his smile falters. He swallows hard.

  “You know what you need to do, Ada.”

  I think back to when I pulled him out of the veil, back in that haunted house that feels like eons ago, when he said maybe this is your destiny.

  For once, I wish I believed in it.

  Would make every choice that much easier.

  I shake my head, tears climbing up my throat, tears that refuse to fall.