25. Cassius
twenty-five
The sound of shattering glass wakes me, followed by a blood-curdling scream. My heart hammers in my chest as the noises register. I sit up in bed and reach for the gun I keep in my bedside drawer.
“Cassius,” Ruby screeches from the stairs. “Cassius!”
I look down at the gun in my hand. I want to think this is a game, but she sounds different, she sounds human. Her voice, normally robotic and deadpan, sounds thick with emotion. Despair and elation battle with each syllable of my name.
Seconds pass, long seconds where the only sound is the beating of my heart, ominous in the dark of the night. Ruby rounds the doorway of my bedroom, and the woman that stands before me is anything but human. She’s a monster. I don’t have to see the red hues to know that it’s blood that covers her. Her long hair is matted in stringy dreads. Her face could be confused for a Jackson Pollock.
She tilts her head to the side with a quick jerk—the movement terrifying. Up until now, I haven’t been afraid. Scared, yeah, but a good scared. The kind of scared that makes shit exciting. Thrilling. I’m a thrill seeker, and she’s been my roller coaster. But right now, in this very moment, I think she might actually try to kill me.
I rustle the blankets to muffle the sound of the safety.
She’s quiet. Too quiet. She pulls up her lips into a strange smile, her eyes widen, and the whites make her look even more sinister. Suddenly, she springs to life, throwing her body at me. The silver of the blade in her hand glitters in the moonlight.
I’m ready for her though and my hand snags her wrist, preventing her attack. The dagger clatters to the floor. Her eyes go wide and wild with rage. She brings her other hand to my throat, but her movements are slow, and it catches us both by surprise. We tumble off the bed, a mess of limbs and sheets. In the chaos, the gun becomes an obstacle, and her teeth sink into my wrist, causing the gun to slip from my fingers, lost in the bedding that ensnares us.
I pull myself free, almost falling in the process. Frantically, I search for the gun, but it’s so dark, all I can see is a mess of shadows at my feet. Suddenly, Ruby scrambles to all fours, then clambers to her feet, holding my gun in her trembling hands.
“You did this to me,” she screams. “You!” Her hand shakes as she lifts the gun, pointing the barrel at my chest. “This is all your fucking fault.” Tears stream down her face.
“Come on, baby,” I plead, knowing the risk. “Give me the gun. You don’t want to shoot me.” I take a step toward her, closing the distance between us. The barrel of the gun presses into my sternum, but I believe what I said. The tears say more than her words. She doesn’t want to shoot me. She won’t.
“I was fine before you,” she whispers. “I liked my life. I was content with it. And then you…” the gun digs deeper, “you came and fucked it all up. You fucked me all up. Tonight was supposed to be easy. Killing them was not supposed to hurt, Cassius. Why did it fucking hurt?”
I wrap my hand around the barrel of the gun and push it sideways. Her grip loosens, and I take it from her. Making quick work of releasing the magazine, I clear the chamber before I drop the pieces on the bed.
“Why did it fucking hurt?” she repeats. “It's all your fault.” She pounds one fist into my chest, and then the other. I let her. I don’t know what’s happening with her, but I let her take it out on me. I wrap her in my arms and let her hit me until she’s finally had enough. Until all the fight has left her, and she’s only a shell of the woman I’ve come to know.
I lead her to the bathroom and gently remove her clothes. I put myself between her and the mirror and when she tries to look around me, I pull her focus back to me. I’m afraid of the picture she’ll see in the blood that paints her.
“Just you and me, babe, okay?” I keep my voice gentle, but she cries harder. “I’ve got you,” I tell her, and I pull her to my chest. Pressing a kiss to her matted hair, I whisper, “I’ve got you.”
We climb into the shower, and I wash her hair until the water runs clear. She tries to look down, but I use my knuckle to lift her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Just you and me,” I repeat.
I use a cloth to clean the dried blood from her body. I try to be gentle, but some areas must be older than others, like she took her time. So I scrub in gentle circles. My hard dick brushes against her thigh when I move to clean her back, and her gaze flickers to it and then back to me just as fast.
I shake my head. “Ruby, you’re beautiful and naked,” I say sheepishly. “But that’s not what’s happening right now, okay?”
“Ember,” she whispers.
I pause mid-scrub. “What’s ember?”
“My name.” Her eyes focus on mine. “My real name. I became Ruby when I was recruited to replace the Ruby before me.”
“The Ruby before you?”
“We’re the Loyal Reds. We have kingdoms in several countries. I am the queen of this one. Our kingdom is small, there’s only nine of us including me, plus a few recruits.”
When I don’t respond, she continues, “I was only eight when I was recruited. My parents were drunks. I learned to be soft on my feet so that I wouldn’t disturb them. If I did, they would lock me in my room for what felt like days. I was so little, it seemed like forever. They would sell their food stamps for half the cash and then buy beer or liquor. I had to steal food to survive.”
“I had to steal food too,” I admit solemnly, but I do not elaborate. Instead, I wrap her in my warmth. The spray of the shower falling around us.
“My predecessor watched me steal food for two months before she recruited me. She taught me to become detached, numb, and immune to emotions and death. And I was.”
“Until me,” I say.
“Until you,” she confirms.
“It was them you killed tonight, wasn’t it?” I ask. “Your parents?”
“Yes. The pieces of shit just had another baby about a year ago. I couldn’t let it continue.”
I shut off the water and grab a towel from the hook. Taking my time, I dry her body, committing every curve to memory in case this was only a slip in judgment for her and I never get another chance. She’s so beautiful, in the kind of way that hurts your soul. The kind of hurt that’s so bad it’s good. The kind that leaves you willing to bleed for more. God above, Devil below, Greek Gods, and every other higher power I can’t remember right now, whoever is listening, please give me more. Please don’t let this be the last. I want more. I need more.
I climb into a pair of boxers and hand Ruby a T-shirt. She pulls it over her head and wrings out her hair with the towel a second time. Her fingers comb through the red strands, twisting pieces until it’s in a neat braid. With the end held tightly between her lips, she pulls off a piece of dental floss from the spool on the counter and ties it around the end.
Taking her hand, we climb into bed. I pull her close to me and wait. I wait for her to pull away, to run away, to leave. I wait for anything to happen, and everything to happen. But then her breathing evens out, her heartbeat slows, and I start to relax. My body loosens, my heartbeat skips to match hers, until sleep overtakes me too.