by March, Lucy
The tears splashed down my cheeks, partly from the burning in my esophagus, and partly from the terror I felt, but I thought of Peach being pelted into unconsciousness by walnuts, and I thought of Davina surrounded by gray smoke in the forest, and I forced myself to drink.
The first thing I felt were my arms getting weak and shaky, and the tingling crept up them, starting at my fingertips and going into my chest, bringing along a cold, dark feeling. It was getting hard to breathe, and I was starting to feel a little dizzy.
“Just a little bit more, baby,” Davina cooed. “You’re doing great.”
I put the bottle to my lips and forced a little more down, gagging a bit as I did. The world around me was spinning, and there was yellow light swirling around me in electric wisps, and Davina was sucking it in, her face glowing with the power as it infused her. And that’s when I noticed that there was also something swirling around her: dark gray smoke. I started to stumble and it occurred to me, a little late, that perhaps I’d just done something phenomenally stupid.
A flash went up around us, bright red and crackling, and then calmed; the white powder that had made the circle was burning. I tried to speak, tried to ask a question, but my body felt like it was encased in iron, everything cold and too heavy for me to move. Davina grabbed my shoulders and I screamed as the pain slashed through me, like swords of light cutting from my shoulders into my chest.
“Hush, baby,” Davina said, her voice thick. “It’ll be all over in a minute.”
I tried to scream again, but there was no air inside me anymore. I worked up the strength to open my eyes, and saw Davina standing over me, holding me by my arms like I was a rag doll, her eyes gleaming in the flickering firelight with greed and power and not a bit of concern for my obvious distress.
That can’t be good, I thought.
I wriggled a bit, but she held on tight. That was when it first occurred to me that I was maybe going to die.
She’s not your friend, Cain’s voice said again in my memory, and I thought absently, You’re right. She’s not.
But now, it was too late. I was going to die, and I would be leaving what was certainly an insane person behind to do … who the hell knew what? I felt pretty certain that saving the town wasn’t as high on her priority list as she had led me to believe, though.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought, but then stopped as I realized that beating myself up wouldn’t help things. I had to work with what I had, which wasn’t much. I closed my eyes again, tried to get past the pain, and did the only thing I could think of doing.
I spit in her face.
14
“Ugh!” she said, releasing one of my arms as she instinctively swiped at her face. I jerked myself out of her grip and shifted in the air as I fell, using the force of my body—for once, I was glad I had some heft to me—to hurl myself toward the flaming edge of the circle. I hit it, breaking the circle with a skid as I hurtled into a world of hurt, and the fire went out instantly. I heard another thud after my own body fell; I figured it was Davina, and gained some comfort from the sound.
“You stupid bitch!” she rasped, and when I looked up, I saw her, clawing the ground, pulling herself toward me like some demented zombie from a bad fifties’ pulp cover. I took a deep breath and clawed as well, heading toward the gurgling brook. I managed to crawl across it, the coldness from the water shooting sharp ice picks of pain through me. Finally, after what seemed like years, I made it to the other side and turned to see her, on her stomach, stopped at the moving water, shooting me the most vile look I’d ever received in my life. Lacking the strength to speak, I flipped her off and then fell back onto the ground with a thud.
I dipped into darkness then for a bit, and when I came to I was breathing, albeit with a lot of pain, my entire body seeming to protest every breath, every heartbeat, by shooting sharp shards of hurt through every nerve. I lay back on the ground, my chest arching as I gasped for air, and when I opened my eyes I could see vague wisps of yellow light drifting back into me. I followed the trails of light to their source, Davina’s brightly dressed form splayed on the ground at the opposite side of the circle. After a moment, the light dissipated, and the world was silent and dark around us as we both breathed, at first loudly and with effort, and eventually slower, and calmer.
What the hell was that? I thought, lacking the strength to speak out loud.
You screwed up, was what came back, and although I knew I had felt the words instead of heard them, I also knew they hadn’t come from me. Telepathy, however, was not the strangest thing that had happened to me lately, so I went with it. I moved my head a bit, trying to get a better look at Davina. She stared back at me, her eyes gleaming in futile fury.
If you think this was bad, Davina’s voice said in my head, just wait until I recover and come for you again. You will wish you’d died tonight. Just wait.
“Just you wait, ’Enry ’Iggins, just you wait,” I sang in a scratchy whisper through my burned throat. Then I laughed a bit, which sent pain radiating from my lungs to my toes, and my eyes filled with tears.
Ow.
“That’s right, baby,” Davina said, out loud this time.
I closed my eyes and thought, Bring it on, bitch.
“Liv!” A man’s voice echoed through the woods, familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I could hear hard footsteps racing through the brush. I stayed on the ground, thinking, Right here! but was unable to say anything. Singing to Davina had used up what little strength I’d had left.
“Goddamnit, where the hell are you?” He was frightened, whoever he was.
I opened my eyes. It was still dark, and cold, but there was a hint of the coming dawn on the horizon. I must have passed out, for a couple of hours at least. I turned my head, which throbbed in response, and looked for Davina. She was gone, as was her backpack. As far as I could tell, all evidence of her ever having been there was gone. I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of it. She’d had the strength to get up and walk away, and she hadn’t killed me?
“Liv!”
Tobias. I recognized his voice, and the relief of hearing it washed over me. I was going to die, sure, but at least I’d be with Tobias when I did. I felt hot tears track down the sides of my face, but I couldn’t move. I closed my eyes and listened to the footsteps. They were getting louder, which meant he was closer. Possibly he’d get to me before I died.
That would be nice, I thought, and fell into darkness again, coming out only when I felt the boom of Tobias as he skidded to his knees on the ground beside me, each vibration shooting pain through my entire body, but I was too weak to even whimper.
“Liv, goddamnit,” he said, running his hand down my arm. It was a gentle touch, but it still hurt like a mother.
I opened my eyes. “Quit it!” I croaked, each word a torture in my ruined throat. I tried to wrench my arm away from him, but it just wiggled a little, and gave me spasms of pain for my trouble.
He leaned over me, his hand gently touching my face. “I need you to stay with me, Liv.”
I could tell he was trying to keep a calm facade, but underneath, there was panic in his eyes. If I didn’t know I was going to die before, I knew it now. Tears pricked my eyes. “Tobias…”
“Stop. You’re going to be fine.” He shrugged a messenger bag off his shoulder and pulled a water bottle out, then put his hand under my head, angling me up.
“Ow!” I grunted, but he ignored me, pushing the water bottle to my lips and squirting liquid that was not water into my mouth. I sputtered it out with what strength I had, finally feeling the desire to live, even though I knew it was hopeless, and I started to cry.
“Liv, listen to me,” he said, his voice calm and even. “You need to drink this. You understand?”
I managed to focus my eyes on his face, his beautiful face. His eyes were red-rimmed and frantic, his hair was a mess, and he looked like he could maybe use a shave, but he was my Tobias, and he was always beautiful to me.
A
racking pain shot through my body, and I whimpered. “It hurts.”
“Yeah. I know.” He touched the bottle to my lips and squirted it into my mouth. I sputtered a bit, the stuff tasted like flat beer with dirt in it, but once swallowed it was cool and soothing to my wretched esophagus, and I managed to drink some. I swallowed down as much as I could, then fell back on the ground. The racking pain subsided, but then …
“Oh, god, I don’t feel right,” I said, and Tobias held me while I vomited everything I’d ever consumed in my life onto the ground. After a few minutes, I collapsed against him, the thrumming of his heart next to my ear giving me some comfort through my intense misery. He held me to him, one hand cupping my head as the other wrapped around my middle, pulling me toward his warmth.
“You all done?” he asked after a minute.
“I thought that was supposed to make me feel better.”
“It’s supposed to save your life,” he said “Can you move your toes?”
I looked down at my legs, which still felt leaden and cold. Although breathing was no longer as painful as it had been before, just the idea of moving my toes made me start to cry. “I can’t.”
“Try.”
“It’s too hard,” I whimpered.
“Liv, come on. Just try.” His voice was ragged, and I could hear the desperation in it. “Please.”
“Okay.” I sniffled, concentrated, and wriggled my right big toe a little. “Can I die now?”
“No.” He pulled a green hoodie sweatshirt out of his pack and slid it over my head, not bothering to string my arms through the sleeves, then settled me gently back on the ground. I looked up at him as he slung his bag back over his shoulders, the predawn sunlight bathing him in a soft glow that made him look almost unreal. Maybe I had imagined it all. Maybe he wasn’t really there.
Maybe I was already dead.
Huh.
He looked around, then put his fingers between his teeth and let out an ear-shattering whistle.
“Ow,” I said, and then I heard footsteps. I pulled my focus onto Tobias, who was standing still, but watching a point to my left. Slowly, I forced my head to turn, but all I saw were an old pair of construction work boots, and then a rough, Southern voice said, “She alive?”
“Yeah,” I heard Tobias say, his voice tense. “She’s not doing great, though.”
There was a grunt, then the work boots stopped next to me. A moment later, Cain crouched down and looked at me, his eyes flickering with cold assessment over my face, then my body.
“Can she move?” he asked, not bothering to talk directly to me.
“A little,” Tobias said, his voice quiet.
Cain reached out to touch my face, and I wanted to shrink back from him, but I couldn’t. Maintaining consciousness was about all I had it in me to do at the moment.
“No,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. How could Tobias do this? Bring Cain to me when I was at my weakest? What the hell was going on? My vision started to darken, but whether it was a result of my panic or my impending death, I didn’t know.
“We have to go back to my place,” Cain said, leaning forward to pick me up.
“No,” I whimpered, and my body started to shake and convulse.
“I got her,” Tobias said. A moment later, the hard earth was no longer under me, and I was being jostled about in Tobias’s arms as he carried me out of the forest. I tried to speak, to ask Tobias what the hell he was doing with Cain, but the pain of the movement was too much, and I passed into blackness instead.
*
When I woke up, I was lying on a futon, staring at a nicotine yellow ceiling in a vaguely familiar studio apartment, although I couldn’t place where I’d seen it before. I didn’t know how long I’d been passed out, but the light outside wasn’t full yet, so it couldn’t have been too long. Or, it was so long that it was already dusk.
Or, I was dead, and hell was a studio apartment with nicotine ceilings. At this point, my mind was open to anything.
“Tobias?” I croaked, my throat rough and pained from all the abuse it had taken.
I heard noise, the clanking of pots, pans, utensils, and I lifted my head a bit to look. Cain was rummaging through the cabinets in his kitchenette, pulling out little bottles and tins and setting them aside. They looked a lot like the bottles and tins I’d seen Davina using.
“Where’s Tobias?”
“What?” He opened a tin, sniffed it, then shook his head and tossed it aside on the counter.
“Tobias?”
Cain looked at me over his shoulder, then opened another cabinet and continued rummaging.
“He went to get me something I need,” he said. “He’ll be back later.”
“Oh.” I laid my head back down on the cushion. I was covered with a blanket, but my body was still shivering involuntarily with cold. “Are you going to kill me?”
I couldn’t see Cain anymore, but from the sounds of things, he just continued his business in the kitchenette, ignoring me.
“It’s just that, if you’re going to kill me, it’s kind of mean to bring me here to do it. I had the job half-done for you in the forest.”
He made a harsh sound, then said, “Shut up and let me concentrate.”
“She tried to kill me,” I said, staring at the ceiling while the bottles and tins clanked in the kitchenette. “You tried to kill me. I don’t understand why people want to kill me. I’m basically a very nice person.”
“I didn’t try to kill you,” he said. “I tried to kill her.”
I blinked, trying to adjust my memory to what had really happened, but my mind was reeling. I couldn’t put it all together.
“But … that night…”
“I was following her. She took the opportunity to put on a show for you.”
I tried to wrap my mind around it all. The woods, the smoke, the branches flying … it had been Davina. “But she was knocked out. How…?”
He made a disgusted noise. “She was never knocked out.”
And then, the truth flowed over me like water. It had been Davina all along. She’d used Millie and Amber Dorsey as conduits, and blamed Cain to get my trust. She was the gray smoke. Not Cain. She’d never actually been knocked out that night in the woods; she’d faked it to frame Cain. Tobias knew this, and had brought Cain to me to save me, not to kill me.
I took a moment to adjust to this, to temper my intense dislike of Cain and my strong affection for Davina with the knowledge that he hadn’t done any of the bad stuff; she had. But the proof was simple; Tobias had trusted me to Cain, and I trusted Tobias.
So that was that.
“God, I’m so stupid,” I said.
There was a long pause, then, “You’re not stupid. You just wanted to believe. Get someone who wants to believe, half your work is done for you.”
I closed my eyes, then opened them again as I realized something. “Hey. This is the apartment above Happy Larry’s, isn’t it? I was here for a party once in high school.”
Cain grunted. I took that as confirmation.
“Happy Larry lied. He told Betty he hadn’t seen you.”
“A good man knows when to keep his mouth shut.”
“Happy Larry is not a good man. Happy Larry is a sleazebag,” I said. “You paid him off, didn’t you?”
“Damnit. Where the hell is it?” Cain opened a drawer, cursed, and shut it again.
I stared at the ceiling and just repeated whatever thoughts came into my head. “I don’t understand anything that’s happening.”
“Here it is,” Cain muttered. I heard water running, and looked up to see him filling a pot. I rested my head back down, and tried to move my fingers. It hurt, but not as much as I thought it would.
“I can move my fingers,” I said. “That’s good, right?”
“Don’t move anything. Just breathe and shut the hell up. You’re not out of the woods yet. You like Splenda? Don’t much matter, it’s all that’s in here.” He ripped open two packets and dumped
them in the pot.
“I hate Splenda,” I said. “Any man who doesn’t appreciate a woman with curves probably doesn’t like women much to begin with, anyway.” I remembered when Davina had said that the night we met, how much I had liked her. My eyes filled with tears and I blinked them back, not wanting to deal with Cain’s certain surly response to my being a human person.
Cain grabbed a spoon and started stirring. I went quiet for a while, staring at his ceiling, distracting myself by wondering if it was originally white and had just been neglected into that nicotine yellow, or if Happy Larry the Sleazebag had actually thought that was a good color for the apartment. I entertained the idea of asking Cain, but then decided he’d just tell me to shut the hell up anyway.
A few minutes later, he was at my side, holding a plain mug with a blue stripe around the top.
“Hey,” I said. “I know that mug. Did Happy Larry steal that from CCB’s? He did, the sleazebag.”
He put his hand behind my head and held the cup to my lips. “Drink.”
“Oh, god, not another putrid—” I began, but stopped as I sniffed. “Wait. That actually smells not bad.”
Something that might have passed for a smile if you’re grading on a really big curve graced his lips, and he said softly, “Just drink it, okay?”
I leaned forward a bit with his help and sipped it. It was warm, not hot, and tasted of peppermint and licorice, and the feel of it in my ruined throat was incredible. It wasn’t terribly sweet, but just enough, and as I drank it down, the pain in my body started to fade a bit. I stopped halfway through, but Cain kept holding me up until I’d finished every last drop, then he gently lowered me down onto the couch.
“I’m not going to throw everything up again, am I?” I asked. “Because that was kind of a mean trick.”
Cain walked to the other side of the tiny room, grabbed the pillow and blanket from his bed in the corner, and brought them back to me.
