Chapter Five #2
My chest twinged unbearably. Lydia had settled somewhere near my heart, a small, annoying burr beneath my skin. I’d gotten used to having her there. The causal use of the past tense drove a sharp, curved dagger through my guts.
“I’m surprised Angelo didn’t already tell you the answer to that,” I mumbled, speaking more to my pillow than him. I wished unconsciousness would reach up and beat me about the head and shoulders. Sleep would be a welcome respite from reminders.
RJ shrugged. “Sure, he told me a lot of stuff. That doesn’t mean he’s right about all of it. It seems to me that monsters would be just as varied as people. I know about Angelo’s reputation, and well… I just think Lydia deserves better than a playboy.”
Which... was more nuance than I usually received from a mundane.
Lydia seemed offended by my views on her species, as though I was accusing her of being a terrible person.
I had a general disdain for mundanes because they were either too ignorant or cowardly, in my perspective.
Murrain’s faction of the Lords held to the idea that total separation between humans and supernaturals would be the wisest course of action, and we’d started making attempts at doing so.
I rolled over onto my side, offering him a weary smile. “And just for that, you’ve earned my attention. What are you wanting to know? Try to keep it brief. I haven’t slept in months.”
RJ gave me a dubious once over. “I’m not sure you should fall asleep with all of that—blood? on you. It’s probably going to cause an infection or something.”
“I don’t have the time or energy for a shower,” I replied. “And, yes, it’s blood.”
RJ thought about that for a second and then shrugged. “I could help wash it off you. I think there’s a little tub in the bathroom. I’d be a perfect gentleman, I promise. I’d just feel better if you didn’t go to bed covered in...”
Covered in Lydia’s blood. The stuff seemed source less now.
With the healing factor I’d adopted, nothing short of decapitating me or blowing me to pieces would do the trick.
Andrea hadn’t been trying to kill Lydia with her attack.
She’d been trying to kill me. Lydia was only a victim because she’d been in the Manananggal’s way. Which was my fault again, damn it.
I should have argued. Should have told him I could take my own damn shower.
I should have tried to do exactly that. But I couldn’t move.
I felt too sore, too heartbroken to do more than crawl under the covers and close my eyes.
RJ seemed to take the silence as assent, because he disappeared for a few minutes, coming back with a plastic tub (that must have belonged to the cleaning crew) full of warm water, a stack of washcloths, and the generic soap one always found in establishments like these.
I watched him with interest when he used the bar of ivory soap to lather up the washcloth.
He reached for my leg but paused before his fingertips could make contact.
“I can just give you the washcloth if you don’t want me to touch you.”
“It’s fine. You’re not going to hurt me any more than I’ve already been hurt.”
RJ grasped my calf gingerly, using the other hand to peel Lydia’s sneakers and socks off. Cool air wafted over my arches and I sighed in spite of myself. I didn’t deserve the gentleness, but I liked it. Silly to feel so fond of him already, simply because he wasn’t shouting at me.
And that brought up an interesting question. “I’m sure Angelo told you about me.”
He didn’t look up. “He did.”
“So why are you being so nice to me?”
Then he did look up at me. “Because I like to make my own mind up about people.”
The calm, easy rhythm that he used on my skin was born of practice. I knew the position. I’d adopted it once or twice before.
“Who’d you take care of?” I asked.
The muscles in his neck bunched. It was the only outward indication that what I’d said upset him. But again, he didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t accuse me of mind-reading or illicit magic. He just dipped the washcloth back into the water, lathered it up, and started the process over again on my arms.
“My grandma,” he said finally. “Mom and Dad died in a car accident when I was really young. My grandparents took me in. I had a pretty good life with them. Moved away for a while, and tried the dating and marriage thing, but it didn’t work out.
Grandpa Richie died when I was in trade school, so I looked after her in his place.
I didn’t trust anyone else with the end of life care when it finally came to that. No one else loved her the way I did.”
I’d felt the same way about Estelle and Livinia.
It didn’t matter that they had a coven to look after them.
I was going to do it, because no one else would love them or care for them the way I did.
They’d grown into beautiful and successful witches in their own right.
I didn’t regret my choices where they were concerned. Not for one solitary second.
RJ paused, breath catching when I ran a hand through his hair.
I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. It was almost an automatic response.
Regardless, the golden strands were as soft and lustrous as they looked.
His face tipped toward me, and there was a wild moment where I thought we might surge toward each other and end up in a tangle of limbs on the bed.
The completely alien desire to kiss him eclipsed almost everything else.
And then the moment was gone. RJ dropped his gaze with a mumbled, “your hand is wet.”
I withdrew the offending digits reluctantly. There’d been one intoxicating second when I’d forgotten exactly how large a clusterfuck I’d landed in.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I just... you’re hurt. I want to be careful with you, that’s all.”
“You don’t have to be. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”
His lips twitched, threatening to pull up into a boyish grin.
It was completely different from the haughty but enticing gaze of a witch’s son.
It warmed me from the inside out, letting me relax under his hands.
True to his word, he didn’t let them wander.
Angelo wouldn’t have been able to say the same. Which reminded me...
“To your earlier statement, yes, Lydia deserves better than Angelo.” He looked up at me then. I nodded. “I don’t like the incubus.”
“Why not?”
I cocked my head to the side as I considered his question. “He’s too up his own ass. I’d tell him to pull his head out, but I think he likes the feeling.”
RJ let out a surprised belly laugh, dropping the washcloth. I watched him, perplexed and pleased by the reaction. He seemed to... like talking to me.
“You said deserves,” he noted when he could finally wipe away the tears streaming from his eyes. They were still sparkling with humor. It made one more aware of the glacial blue color. “Present tense.”
“Right. So what?”
He nodded. “So, you and Angelo both think Lydia’s still alive. You think there’s a way to get her back.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think that?”
He was like a kid asking five million questions.
It was cute. “Because I’m powerful enough that Murrain had to send a spell of unmaking my way.
He knows I’ll figure something out and that I’ll come for Lydia.
He’s probably counting on it.” I paused.
“That’s why I’m ninety percent certain he’s going to have Andrea regurgitate Lydia’s soul.
He knows I’ll come for her. He’s using her spirit as a hostage. ”
RJ’s brow creased. “A spell of unmaking. That sounds ominous. What does it do?”
“It’s a lot like pulling on a thread. Pull one stitch in the weaving and the rest become insecurely attached. The more energy you pour into the spell, the more destructive it gets. It unravels the magic it’s attacking until a catastrophic failure occurs.”
“So it’s also a little like a chemical reaction?” RJ asked.
“I guess so.”
“Like... a bomb?”
“Kind of.” It was exactly like a bomb.
“There’s potential energy and if you smash it or split it, it can become really dangerous. But that means...” He paled, looking like he might be sick. “You blew up.”
I nodded. “To the human eye, that’s what it looked like. It felt even worse.”
“It sounds awful.”
I nodded again. “It happened in slow-motion, so Murrain could draw out my suffering.”
“That son of a bitch,” RJ said with real heat. He paused for a second before he tacked on a sheepish, “Who is Murrain?”
I leaned back onto the bed when he’d finished with my abdomen, glorying in the feeling of being mostly clean. And it saved me from leaving suspicious stains on the motel’s bedsheets.
“No one you need to worry about. It’s best if you stay out of this business entirely.”
RJ shook his head and I could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth. He and Anthony had a similiar look when they got their back up about something.
“Lydia is my friend too. I want to help.”
I rolled over onto my side with a sigh, patting the bed. “I thought you might say that. Lay down next to me.”
RJ eyed the bed cautiously. There was a bit of heat to the look, but it was overshadowed by the concern dripping off him. “Why?”
“Because I’m looking to ravish you, of course,” I said dryly before rolling my eyes. “Relax. I’m not trying to bed you.”
Was there a tiny bit of disappointment in his expression?
“Then what—“
“I’m just looking for a nice Boy Scout to debauch,” I continued with a smile. “It’s one of the merit badges I haven’t earned yet.”
Which only earned me a pleased half-smile, not a sharp retort. “Funny. What’s the real reason?”
“If you’re tagging along, you have to respect your limits. Starting with this one: you can’t fight Murrain’s sorcerers. Period.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re only human.” I studied him for a moment. “Lydia thought of you with at least a little fondness, which means I’ll do what I can to keep you alive.”
“Thanks,” he said facetiously.
“RJ, if we’re attacked and I say run, you run. Understood?”
He nodded once before climbing into the bed, settling awkwardly on top of the covers, his back to me.
And I didn’t believe his sincerity one bit. I was going to have to chain him to a radiator or something to keep him from being a gallant hero. I knew his type.