“Is it gross?”
“Yeah, kinda gross.”
She sighs and throws herself back against the seat.
She's quiet for a while before speaking again. “Have you ever had sex?”
My foot slips off the gas pedal. “What? Mother of God, Silvia, can we never talk about this, ever?”
“I'm just curious.”
“That isn't something you just ask people.” I choke back the disgust rising in my throat.
She turns in her seat to face me. “I should be able to ask you anything.”
“No. No, you should not.”
Silence fills the car. I hope that we don't have to speak again until this trip is over.
But after a while Silvia opens her mouth. “Do you think it's better with someone you care about?”
I know she means me. I know she means us. But my thoughts go to Syd. The way her hands feel working me over. Her gasps and shudders, and the look afterward, like she will never leave my side.
“Yes,” I say, “it's definitely better with someone you care about.”
***
We roll into Albuquerque around five in the morning. The sun is starting to peek up, and I've had enough of Silvia's just-about-to-ask-something expression. She's brainstorming hard, and I rarely like the aftermath.
I turn off the highway and pull into the parking lot of a hotel.
Silvia blinks. “What are we doing here?”
“We're going to sleep,” I say. “You'll be able to take that shower, too.”
She gazes at the hotel, one of those places that probably doesn't even have a name. “It looks haunted.”
“Just because it doesn't have valet parking doesn't mean it has poltergeist.” I laugh as she continues to stare at the windows. “Let's go see what they have available.”
I step out, and she follows me into the lobby and to the front desk.
“Need two rooms.” I start to pull out my wallet.
Silvia slaps her J.P. Morgan Palladium credit card onto the counter. “One room.”
I look at her.
“Two beds,” she says, as if assuring me. Then she raises her eyebrow at the clerk.
He glances at me, and I shrug. “The princess has spoken.”
He gives an appreciative laugh, because he thinks I'm joking. He checks us in, and then we return to car for our luggage. At least she didn't ask for a bellhop.
She grabs up two of her bags and wanders toward the back of the hotel. She takes in everything as she goes, like we're in freakin' Wonderland.
I grab her other bag and my own, slam the trunk, and follow after her. Our room is on the second floor. She unlocks the door and props it open for me with her foot.
It is self-aware, after all.
As I drop the luggage between the beds, she crosses the room to the balcony doors.
“It looks like Phoenix,” she says with a hint of disappointment, gazing at the purple mountain skyline.
I take the bags from her and add them to the pile. “We're still in the desert, and will be for some time. Why don't you go wash up?”
She turns and heads to the bathroom without a word.
I get the feeling this road trip isn't all her excitable little mind had anticipated.
A while later, I'm staring blankly at something on the TV, and she emerges from the bathroom showered and dressed in loose pajamas. She crawls into bed under the covers. Her gaze fixes on me. Again. I've never been able to figure out what she's thinking when she does that. I probably don't want to know.
I toss my bag onto my bed and unpack clean clothes. We have a full day of driving ahead of us when we wake, and I don't intend to make any more stops than necessary.
Silvia speaks out of nowhere. “Can we have pancakes before we leave?”
I glance at her. “Uh, sure?”
“Thanks, Dim.” A little smile slides onto her lips.
Her eyes close, and she's asleep before I even head for the shower. I expect her to be awake when I get out, but she doesn't stir as I turn off the lights and settle into my bed. My body melts against the mattress. I consider texting Syd, but my phone is in my jeans pocket across the room and I'm too tired to get back up.
I'm not sure what to say to her anyway.
***
My eyes flutter open. Sunlight oozes around the edges of the curtains drawn over the balcony door, but does little to fill the room.
Silvia is sitting on the floor next to my bed, resting her head against her arm on the mattress.
I nudge her shoulder. “Silv?”
She looks up, blinking, and settles her chin on her wrist.
“What's up?” I prop myself on my elbows, trying to clear my head. “Bad dream?”
She doesn't reply, but pushes up onto the mattress.
She's naked.
“Holy shit.” I put my arm out to block her as she crawls up next to me. “What the hell are you doing?”
She gazes down at me, a small contemplative frown on her lips. “I don't want our first time to be like that.”
“Like what?” I choke on my words.
“I don't want you to have been . . . summoned,” she says. “I want it to be because we—you—want to.”
“Uh, that's never, ever going to happen.” My hand tries to figure out an appropriate place so I can push her back.
Touching her anywhere seems . . . wrong.
“We grew up together, Dim. I don't want anyone else.” Her frown deepens, as if this is all an inconvenience to her.
The money for personal trainers and nutritionist apparently went to good use, but there is absolutely nothing erotic about Silvia the Succubus naked on all fours next to me.
She sits back on her knees, unabashed.
“I know you've been with other girls,” she says in a tone like she's giving the weather report. “You're my inheritance. It's not . . . fair.”
My eyes are as confused as my hand.
Then her expression seems to settle on the realization that I'm not giving in to her weird little fantasy.
“It is going to happen.” Her tone sounds more like the normal Silvia.
She relinquishes off the bed and shuffles through her luggage. Her figure is stunning. Her mind is frightening.
She looks up at me. “I gave you a choice.”
I scramble out of bed, standing on the side opposite of her. Shock morphs into anger.
“Don't ever fuckin' do that again.”
She shrugs and starts dressing for the day.
“I mean it,” I snap. “It's not acceptable.”
She ignores me as she pulls on her clothes, slips on her shoes, and then shoulders two of her bags. She heads for the front door.
I cross the room and block the exit with my arm, hand against the wall.
“Get out of my way, Dim,” she says, voice cracking on a whine.
I reply through gritted teeth, “Stop acting like I didn't ask you to the prom.”
She stabs me with an unamused look. “Well, you didn't.”
“We didn't have a prom!” I throw my hands in the air.
She ducks past me and lets herself out. The door clicks shut behind her. I scramble for my things, then head to the parking lot.
She is standing by the car, bags at her feet. I unlock the trunk, drop in the rest of the luggage, and slide in behind the steering wheel. She struggles with her bags then closes the trunk so softly I pop it and get out to shut it properly.
She settles into the passenger seat and lights a cigarette.
I roll down the windows. Just because she wants to smell like a crematory, doesn't mean I have to.
While she puffs away, I search on my phone GPS for a place to eat and then head around the front of the hotel to drop off the keys. Then we're on the road.
She says nothing, but flicks a half-used cigarette out the window and lights another one as we pull into IHOP.
She looks up, surprised. “What's this?”
“Pancakes.” I twist t
he key from the ignition. “I assume you still want those?”
She nods, then steps out and crushes her cigarette before following me into the lobby. A hostess shows us to our booth.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Hey, order me some coffee.” I lean over to pat her shoulder. “I'll be right back.”
I try not to seem in a hurry as I head toward the hall. The last thing I need is for Silvia to try to get her claws on my phone. I duck inside the bathroom and pull the phone from my pocket.
It's Syd.
I don't know why she would be calling me. I haven't been away an entire twenty-four hours yet.
I answer, my voice low. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She sounds tired. “I just wanted to see what time your flight leaves.”
“Uh. I'm driving,” I say, which sounds even more ridiculous spoken aloud. “Long story.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “When are we going to New Mexico?”
“Why would we go to New Mexico?” My attempt to sound casual falls flat, but at least I'm properly confused.
She doesn't reply.
Then my brain switches on. I really do need coffee.
“Oh! Your grandmother's place.” I take a deep breath. “I'm working on that, I promise.”
That's not entirely a lie. The only real reason I'm on this stupid trip is to find out what Karl is up to so I can plan the other parts of my life accordingly.
“Okay, sounds good.” Her voice is distant.
There's more to this conversation, but I'm not privileged to know. Just like she doesn't tell me anything else. I despise this situation more every time I think about it.
The silence between us lingers.
“All right, I gotta get rolling,” I say. “Just about to grab breakfast then get back on the road.”
She hesitates. “Be careful, okay?”
“I always am.” I try to sound reassuring. “Go have coffee with Coleen, and I'll be home before you know it.”
“Okay.” She pauses again, and then hangs up.
I wish she had insisted on talking longer, but it's probably for the best. Don't want to upset royalty waiting for her pancakes.
With a sigh, I cram the phone into my pocket and return to the booth. Silvia is waiting, back straight and hands folded on her lap. My gaze wanders over the plates.
“I see you took liberties and ordered breakfast.” I slide into the booth and frown.
Welcome to the rest of my life.
Silvia picks up her fork. “Blueberry pancakes, hash browns, eggs over easy, and the bacon well-done.”
I stare down at my food. I can't even recall the last time Silvia and I shared a breakfast table, but she nailed it.
She doesn't seem to notice my surprise, and continues to talk between bites.
“Do you remember when we were eleven, and you wanted to see if you could play baseball with the angel statue? It was posed like this.” She extends her arm above her and cups her fingers. “So you batted the ball at it, and it hit the hand so hard it broke?”
I look at her . . . and then laugh. “I'd totally forgotten about that.”
She smiles. “You were so scared about my dad finding out. Like, you'd never been scared of him before, but that day you just panicked and ran away. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” I say, feeling less embarrassed than I should.
That was right after my father had given me the low-down, and I had no idea what to expect from Karl.
“I tried to fix the statue with modeling clay.” She cuts into her pancakes. “My mother caught me, so I told her I had been trying to make an impression of the statue's hand and it broke.”
“That's some pretty weird excuse-making.” I shovel in a bite.
“I guess so, but I still have it.”
I look up from my food. “Have what?”
“The impression of the hand.” She grins. “Just a big block of modeling clay with a statue's hand imprinted in it.”
“Why would you keep that?”
She shrugs. “I flipped it over and use it as an ashtray now.”
I shake my head and go back to eating.
I get it. Silvia and I spent more than a decade of our lives side-by-side. Then they began grooming us for our roles. As I was taught I would have to obey, she was taught she owned me. As I was sent out to take on the world, she was kept sheltered in the mansion oasis. And as I met people and learned to pickup women at the bar, Silvia never expanded her horizons. I am the only guy her age she has ever known.
Now her teenage crush has welled into possessiveness. It's tearing her up that she can't yet claim what is rightfully hers.
In her own twisted way, Silvia loves me.
***
Between Albuquerque and Oklahoma City, the desert starts to roll and turn green. We're not exactly in the thickets yet, but it's nice to see grass that isn't a golf course.
Silvia sits forward in her seat, taking three or four puffs on a cigarette before discarding it, eyes wide to note each detail of the hills and towns. “I want to travel every continent. See Europe, Africa, Australia—”
“Yeah,” I say, cutting her off, “and how do you intend to do that without getting on a plane?”
Her hand freezes halfway to bringing the cigarette to her mouth. She shrugs. “Private jet. I think I could handle that.”
“That's expensive, Silv.”
“We can afford it.” She flicks her cigarette out the window.
Just once I would like to see what happens if she finished one. It's like she thinks they're fuses.
“What would you do if you weren't a genie?”
I still, but my heart speeds up. Nervous, unsettled energy.
What would I do if I wasn't forced into servitude? I must have had goals once, before I knew my life had been planned already, but I don't remember what they were. I don't want to remember, either. They won't happen.
Even if Karl died tomorrow, his little swimmer made sure that I had no chance of escaping. I'll go out the same way all of the genies before me: bullet to the head when I'm no longer useful.
I turn on the radio and crank it so we don't have to talk anymore. I just want to get to Doctor Kerr's house so I can go home.
***
We arrive in Oklahoma City in the middle of the night. My legs are numb, my shoulders and back are stiff, and my eyes hurt. My brain is in worse shape. I haven't stopped thinking about Silvia's question the whole damn trip.
What would I do if I weren't a genie?
Anything other than what I have been doing the last eight years. I resent she would even ask, as if it was a dream equally denied to everyone. Like vacationing in the solar system. Instead, I'm the only one who has to stay on this god forsaken planet.
I clomp out of the car and follow Silvia into the hotel lobby.
“One room, please,” she says with a tired sigh.
The clerk punches into his computer.
“Two.” I give Silvia a look, goading her to challenge me.
Her eyes light. How dare the pet defy her.
When the clerk glances at her for confirmation, she purses her lips, then gives a tight nod.
He hands us our hotel key cards. I storm back to the car, yank out our luggage, and stalk to our ground level rooms. I stop at Silvia's door and wait for her to unlock it. As soon as the door clicks, I push past, drop her luggage on the floor, and turn to her.
“Stay in your own fuckin' room.” I point at her. “Got it?”
“I don't have your key,” she snaps.
Tears threaten to break through her face. I do not care.
“I'm sure you would find a way to sneak in. So don't. Just leave me the fuck alone.” I storm toward the door.
“Dimitri!” Her voice is shrill. “Why do you hate me?”
I spin around to face her.
“I'm not like my father!”
The anger welling in my chest all day erupts.
“You're
exactly the same! I once choked a man with a belt. With a belt, Silvia! His face, his eyes. Feeling his body grow limp while he strangled against me. It was the most horrific thing I had ever felt. I've snatched children—small children—from their own backyard. I don't even know if they ever get to go home! I'm afraid to check!”
I'm in her face, and she looks terrified. She should be. No one has made me promise not to harm her yet. Her only saving grace is that I know Karl would take enormous pleasure in making me regret offing his daughter.
“I've hunted and killed, all because that's what is asked of me. It doesn't matter what the request is. I'm denied the right to say no. I'm denied the right to have a life. I just sit in a damn house all day waiting for my next orders and hoping, fuckin' praying, that I can find a way to forget what I've done when I get home. That's what your family has been doing to mine. Generation after goddamned generation.”
I back toward the door, my gaze fixed on her. “You're just another Walker, Silvia. When you make that wish, that one you can't wait for, pretend whatever you want. Pretend you actually gave me a choice. Pretend it somehow matters we were raised together. But know that it would never, ever happen if I had anything to say about it.”
I slam the door, leaving her to cry. And I don't feel any guilt whatsoever.
***
I lie on my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. I would like to go home, but as soon as Karl knows we're back, he will start summoning me again. There is no lesser evil in this choice.
I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to kill people or burn down buildings. I don't want to be in a stranglehold because every dollar I spend is tracked, so I can't even go with Syd to her grandmother's house. If I do, Karl will see the charges.
Despite what I would like to believe, I'm not free on this trip either. I need Silvia to lead the leash.
I have no idea how my father lived this way for decades. There is only one escape from the bleakness.
The figurative dagger of disobedience rams into my head. Pain splinters through my skull, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
My hand goes for the phone in my pocket. As I think of seeing Syd again, the pain in my head fades.
I dial her number.
When she answers, I say, “Talk to me, sexy.”
She does, whispering in my ear as my eyes grow heavy. She sounds happy that I called. And I can't think of a better reason to want to keep trying.
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