Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Fuck!
Carson barely managed to get himself upright when he was knocked on his ass again by the sight of the person in his doorway. What the hell was Liz doing here?
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked as if reading his mind.
“I asked you first.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Crap. “Well, I thought it.”
She stared at him like she was trying to light him on fire with her mind.
Which, in all likelihood, she probably was.
Although it didn’t look like she managed to pick up any pyrokinetic superpowers in their years apart, Carson had to admit that her death glare was much more impressive than it used to be.
Eyebrows drawn together. Lips pressed in a straight line.
The slightest quiver of narrowed eyelids.
Damn, she was good.
But so was he. If there was one thing his family lineage of attorneys taught him, it was how to intimidate with a look. His dad hadn’t earned the nickname Angry Atwell for nothing.
He gave it right back to her. Glared until his vision started to blur.
And his leg started to spasm. And the ice pick started to jab his thigh.
Oh God, if he didn’t sit back down right this minute he might very well crumble to the floor.
In front of her. Which would definitely not help matters. Not his, at least.
With a few noises he definitely wasn’t proud of, he lowered himself back into the armchair. Fuck! Closing his eyes, he laid his head against the back of the chair.
“Um…”
“Just leave it.” He waved his hand, indicating the general direction of the table by the door.
“Are you okay?”
“Never better.” He answered without opening his eyes. It was safer that way.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.” Or he would be, as soon as she was out of his room, and he was out of this town. Tomorrow.
Shit. What if he couldn’t leave tomorrow? What if his leg was messed up so bad that he wasn’t able to drive? He’d be stuck here in Cloverfield.
Nope. Not going to happen. He’d get out of town even if it meant he had to gnaw off his own leg.
“Okay. Then I’ll just put this here…”
A squeak of the floorboard made him peek out between his lashes, and he saw her creeping across the room toward him like he was a coiled snake ready to strike.
Good. He’d rather she was afraid of him than have her empathy. Because he definitely didn’t want that. But at least if she put the ice nearby, he wouldn’t have to get up again.
God, he hated this place.
Not the inn. No, it was actually pretty nice.
The two women who ran it were great so far, too.
When he managed to limp his way back last night, the younger woman offered to call the doctor for him, then plied him with ice and Advil when he declined.
This morning the older woman brought him a breakfast tray and the promise of more ice.
But that didn’t change the fact that he needed to get out as quickly as possible. Away from the town. Away from the memories.
Away from Liz.
“Thanks,” he bit out. “You can leave now.”
Liz scoffed and set the ice bucket on the table next to him. “Excuse me for trying to help.”
“No excuses needed,” said a male voice from somewhere behind Liz.
The door to Carson’s suite slammed shut, startling them both.
A faint shadow appeared near the door, gradually taking the form of a soldier.
Young. Maybe their age or a little older.
From the Civil War era possibly, based on what Carson discerned from his regalia—a dark blue, double-breasted, thigh-length coat, a Civil-War-era hat, and a pipe clamped between his teeth.
Great. Now he was hallucinating. He hadn’t thought he hit his head last night, but apparently, he was wrong.
“Stay back!” yelled Liz, her arms held in front like she was ready for a boxing match. “I know self-defense!”
Carson’s hallucination looked appalled. “Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you. My apologies.”
“Apologies, my ass,” Liz growled. “Come any closer and I’ll S.I.N.G. you!”
“Sing?” the hallucination asked, tilting his head to one side as if he wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.
“S.I.N.G.! Solar plexus!” she yelled, jabbing a hand toward his chest. “Instep!” she cried, stomping her foot. “Nose! Groin!”
The hallucination frowned, Liz’s motions doing nothing other than confusing him before his expression cleared. He nodded. “Ah, yes. It is most wise of you to know how to protect yourself.”
“You bet your ass I do!” Liz jabbed again.
The hallucination shook his head and tutted to himself.
Carson thought he heard him say something like, “Come on, Major. Get it together.” With a deep sigh, the hallucination plastered a smile on his face and swept his hat off his head, holding it in front of his chest. “I’m afraid this isn’t going as well as I planned. Please, allow me to begin again.”
Sure. Why not? At least if Carson was going to hallucinate, he was hallucinating something entertaining. “You go, dude.”
“Thank you.” The hallucination bowed and smiled at each of them in turn. “Liz. Carson. My name is Major Charles Wallace, but most refer to me as the Major. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Crap. How did the hallucination know their names?
Oh. Right. It was Carson’s hallucination. Of course his own brain knew their names. But why was he being so formal?
The hallucination dropped his hat back onto his head, pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, and cleared his throat.
“The magic between you is strong, yet weak. It sparkles like a thousand diamonds yet is dulled like the wood of my third Colonel’s leg.
It fights like a lion yet wants belly rubs like a lolling-tongued dog.
Although you think it is long since over, it has only begun.
” He tucked the paper back in his pocket and looked at Liz and Carson again, a hesitant smile on his face.
“How was that? Did it make sense? I’ve been working on metaphors and similes.
Poetry that rhymes is great, but to get the right comparisons to truly express oneself is… ”
“Like trying to find a needle in a haystack of needles?” Carson supplied.
“Yes!” The Major tapped his nose, excitement lighting his translucent eyes. “Exactly!”
Perfect. Carson wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be more satisfied to know what the hallucination meant, or worried that his brain was apparently having conversations with itself.
“Hold up.” Liz waved her arms as if trying to clear a swarm of bees from her personal space. “What magic?”
Wow. Out of that whole speech, that’s what she was confused about?
Wait. Why was she confused about his hallucination?
“Oh! Right.” The Major responded before Carson was able to ask his question aloud. “I got so excited for my soliloquy that I may have missed the forest for the trees. In case it wasn’t clear, the two of you are soul mates.”
“What?” Liz screeched at the same time Carson snorted. “How can we be soul mates?” she asked. “He doesn’t have a soul!”
“Hey!” Carson cried. “Speak for yourself. My soul is perfectly fine, thank you very much. Unlike yours, which is charred to a crisp.”
“Oh, dear.” The Major glanced back and forth between Carson and Liz. “And here I thought the two of you would be easy. I may have to rethink this a bit.”
The last image Carson had of the Major was of him furrowing his brow and staring off into the distance before he winked out of existence.
“Oh, thank God.” Carson let his head drop back onto the chair again.
Liz turned in a circle, her fists raised in defense yet again. “You don’t see him anymore, right?”
“No. But how could you?”
“How could I what?”
“See him. I thought it was my hallucination.”
“Uh...” Liz continued to scan the room. “Maybe we were both hallucinating?”
“The same thing?”
“I don’t know. What did you hallucinate?”
“A civil war solider who called himself the Major spouting off some weird-ass non-rhyming poetry and calling us soul mates.”
Liz gnawed her lower lip. “Huh.”
“Which we’re not, by the way.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “Yeah. No shit.”
“So, what was that, then?”
“No idea.”
Except, the way her face lost a shade or two of color, Carson thought maybe she did have an idea. One she didn’t like.
“Care to share?”
She startled again. “What?”
“Whatever you’re thinking. Tell me.”
“No. It’s nothing. This was all a hallucination. It definitely was not the Major, we are definitely not soul mates, and we are definitely not locked in this room together.”
“What? Why would we be locked in here together?”
“No reason.” She stiffened again, poised to strike should the need arise, and darted glances to all corners of the room before crossing to the door in three quick strides.
Her hand hesitated over the knob as if she expected it to burn her before she muttered something and yanked.
The door flew open, and she narrowly avoided getting hit in the face.
“Haha!” Her cackle was just shy of manic as she stumbled out into the hallway.
Wow. Carson wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her this unhinged. If he didn’t hate her so much, it might’ve been weirdly attractive. “You okay over there?”
“Yep. Never better. Good luck with, uh, that.” She gave a little Mr. Miyagi-like wax on gesture in his general direction while keeping her focus on the hallway, her head swiveling in every direction as she crept away.
Wow. Maybe Carson’s head injury was worse than he thought. He’d never seen Liz that freaked out. Maybe he really should go see a doctor.
Although on second thought, maybe he should enjoy the fact that the previously unflappable Liz was definitely flappable and call it a day.
Yeah. He’d worry about his own sanity later. Now was for enjoying the knowledge that Liz was most likely somewhere still freaking out.
Served her right.