Chapter 23
Bohnes
The drive to the church is unclear. I’m fading in and out, pushing through because I know that I have to. Amongst these snakes, anything perceived as weakness is exploited. If Burt Cramer sees us as lesser, he’ll treat us that way too. All we have to do is make an appearance.
I can stay alive a little longer.
My Nightmare came for me. I could hear her when I was dying on the stone floor.
I could feel her lips. Between the time I passed out and the moment she arrived, it couldn’t have been long.
Quick. She was quick. My heart blooms with thorns of dark love, twisting through the sluggishly beating organ like brambles.
Ash. Widow. Alexei. Men I can count on.
Almost there. I realize my eyes were closed and force them open again, catching sight of the church.
The building is obnoxious and overblown, black and steepled with an oxidized copper roof and too much stained glass.
Tucked beautifully inside a garden and wrapped in trees.
It all blurs together in my vision as my head lolls and I press a bloody hand to the window.
I’m missing a glove. Glancing up at the mirror on the visor, I see that I’m missing a contact lens, too.
I turn my head to look at Scarlett. All I want to do is look at Scarlett. It’s my entire purpose for breathing, looking at Scarlett.
I’m struggling a bit right now, my bare hand gripping a small roof strap for support.
“I don’t even know what to say to you,” Scarlett begins in a low, cool tone.
That’s the frost of her anger, creeping like skeletal white arms through her soul.
The powers that be have really pissed her off today.
I try to force my lips into a smile, but the mask I’m wearing is too heavy for the weakened muscles in my face.
“My dark love, Bohnes, my soul weeps as it rejoices your return to the living.” I’m trying to lighten the mood, even if the mood is very, very heavy. I was minutes from death. Minutes. They almost had me. It’s not easy to do that. I’m a very difficult man to kill.
Scarlett takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, holding the wheel at nine and three.
I think she’s afraid to touch me. I reach out and grab one of her hands, prying it off and wrapping it up in the torn latex of my gloved fingers.
Blood smears all over her wrist, but she’s covered in it anyway.
“You all did very well today,” I add, voice shakier than I’d like. I’m ashamed by the weakness in my words. “Without you, I would be dead.”
“You wouldn’t be involved in any of this if it weren’t for me,” she growls out, teeth sharp and wild as she clenches them together.
I can imagine her dark hair flying wild in a supernatural breeze.
Her eyes turning red with bloodlust. The shapely curves of her body are twice as apparent now that the fabric of her dress is wet and clinging to her skin.
I want to put my hands on her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. When I’m around Scarlett, I know that I’m not just a ghoul. I’m a man, too.
“Don’t flatter yourself like that, Scarlett.
If I hadn’t become fixated on you, I would’ve been chasing adrenaline for fun.
Alexei still would’ve come to me. Jonas would still be a problem.
” I cough and blood spatters all over our joined hands.
Shit. That’s not good. I’m lightheaded and dizzy, slumping back in the seat and nearly blacking out.
The impact of the crash on my chest hurts more than anything else, even if it’s not the fatal wound. Breathing is agony. Cut my tongue and the inside of my mouth with my teeth, too, when I hit the steering wheel. The taste of iron is overwhelming.
I’m dreaming. Dreaming…awake. Dreaming. Awake.
“My dark love, Bohnes, my soul weeps as it rejoices your return to the living,” Scarlett says warmly as my eyes open again, finding both her and Ash in front of me.
Ash is down on one knee, giving me another emergency transfusion.
Widow is pressing two fingers to his inner elbow to stop his own bleeding.
Alexei is studying the other cars in the parking lot.
The Pantera has been parked up front, in a row of slanted spaces that runs the length of the sidewalk in front of the building.
The church looms above us, catching Alexei in even deeper shadows.
“You actually said it,” I breathe with a little laugh, allowing Ash to bandage me up and then help haul me to my feet. He tries to hold me up, but I wave him away. Scarlett, too.
“I can stand.” I use the Pantera’s door to keep myself steady.
We’re all wet and bloody, clothes torn, with bats and swords and needles and bandages.
Prickly. Feral. There’s Scarlett, scowling at me.
If Jonas and Chet are inside that church today, we’re going to kill them right now. In front of everyone.
“Dude, you’re half-dead,” Scarlett snaps, so concerned for me that I would fall to my knees and worship her if I thought I would be able to get back up after.
When I decided she was mine and that was that, I’d resigned myself to the idea that she may never love me.
I’d follow her in the shadows, making her life better without her even knowing I was doing it. I was prepared to live that way.
“Mostly dead, not all dead,” I respond with a chuckle and Scarlett’s jaw drops open.
Widow actually laughs, like he understands the reference.
My eyes flick to him as I stand there and pretend like we’re not outside a church full of mobsters, trying to marry the five pointed tips of this pentagram poly together.
I can’t breathe. I’ll move in a few seconds.
Just a few seconds. I curse myself out, feeling pathetic. For needing help.
“The Princess Bride?” Widow queries, naming the movie in an instant.
He folds his arms, one black shirt sleeve intact.
The other is ripped at the elbow. Everyone else still has both gloves, both contact lenses.
Alexei tosses a fresh glove over to me, and I somehow manage to catch it.
Reflexes are still there. “You have balls, man. I admit it.”
It takes me much longer than it should to get the damn glove on.
“Balls aside, what the hell, Bohnes?” Scarlett is smiling at me, coquettish. Flirtatious. Enraged. “You can’t make movie references when shit is this serious. You can’t even walk.” Her face falls suddenly, ice cold again. “You have ten seconds or else we’re leaving. I mean it.”
The church bells ring, an ominous clang in the silver-sheened winter rain. Fog settles at the edges of the parking lot, unstirred. Everything is cold and wet and empty, like we’re the only ones here.
“I don’t see my father’s car,” Ash remarks, stepping aside so that I have more room to move. I force my weary body to take a step. That’ll work. Steady. Thank fuck, I can do this.
“He isn’t going to be here,” Alexei predicts as Scarlett’s best gossipmonger, Jennifer, appears at her side, whispering something in her boss’ ear. I wonder how late we are? Doesn’t matter. We came and we’re having a ceremony, guests or no guests.
“Because he knows we’ll kill him if he shows up.
” Scarlett nods at Jennifer and the girl retreats into the foyer to grab a few additional members of the crew.
“Jonas is at the scene of the accident. According to Emma Jean, the story is that he stumbled upon the horrible tragedy on his way to the wedding. Stopped to help. Pulled a child from a burning car apparently.”
I laugh at that because it’s so superbly predictable and absolutely insane. Jonas Kelly is the sort of person who deserves months or even years of torture, but who is so awful that I’ll simply settle for putting a bullet in his head. Just so I never have to deal with him again.
“Caused the accident. Becomes the hero because of that same accident. That’s Jonas in a nutshell.
” Ash closes his eyes for a minute, sucking in a violent breath.
He opens them again and looks at me with empathy and camaraderie that suddenly feels natural instead of annoying.
What is happening to me? Do I need an exorcism?
“Nessie was on the radio on our drive over here. Ten people are already dead from that crash. Three more might die still.”
“Thirteen is my lucky number,” I breathe out, putting a hand over the wound on my leg and trying not to scream. I only do that in private, bite down and scream. I’ve survived wounds like this before. “They’re dead and we’re not. Today is another win, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”
Scarlett slips her arm around my waist, and I don’t fight her this time. I can’t. I don’t even want to. Her touch is a balm. Her touch is that fine line between life and death.
Nobody says anything as the front doors of the church open, summoning Scarlett’s girls outside.
They flutter up to our undead bride, surrounding her in a cloud of perfume and lace, silk and hairspray and heels.
A black wool hat is pinned to her hair, a mountain of red lace attached to it that trails down her back like a train.
The girls hold the rest of it to keep it from touching the ground.
Thirty feet of bloodred lace. Beautiful, especially with the gothic spires of the church and the winter fog.
The girls push a bit of lace over the front, covering Scarlett’s face completely. Without a word, they hand over the wooden demon mask I left inside the Chevelle. Ash is the one who puts it on for me, and then the other boys do the same with their own masks.
Demon. Vampire. Fox. Tiger.
“Take my arm,” she commands, so I do. Our elbows lock together, skeletons knocking in the winter dark. Forever soldiers at one another’s side. Scarlett can tell that I need the help, even if I don’t want to admit it to anyone. Not even myself.
When we emerge through the foyer and into the main hall, the entire church rises to its collective feet. On either side of us, there are hundreds of neutral faces. Not smiling. Not surprised to see us dripping blood and brandishing weapons. Not upset about the masks or the outfits.
A glittering gathering of violence and power, of wealth and connection.
There are sprays of black flowers in urn-like stone vases on either side of the walkway’s red-runner. At the front of the room, there’s an ostentatious organ with silver pipes and a huge dais with one of the mob’s holy men waiting for us.
Scarlett and I start walking, arm-in-arm. The aisle is wide enough for Alexei to walk on her other side. Just in front of us, there’s Widow. Just behind us is Ash. To anyone watching, this is nothing more than a showy security measure. To us, this is a commitment.
Truth in currency, that’s what this is. I cough again, soaking the inside of my mask in blood.
It’s the only sound in the entire church besides the clank of the sword and the bat, the shared march of our footsteps.
Scarlett holds tight to me, warm and reassuring in a very cold place.
Not just this specific church, but the whole world.
I hate the world, and I fucking love Scarlett.
Burt Cramer is in the front row, offering up a slow, delighted little show of teeth. He tips his hat at us.
Burt saw something in us the night he ordered Ash to suck Alexei’s dick. It wasn’t just about that. He sees the unit we’re forming and it excites him. It should. We’re very effective together.
Today is proof of that.
Mayor Kelly’s spot on the other side of the aisle is empty.
Poor thing, too busy making orphans…I mean rescuing orphans to attend the ceremony.
In his place, where both he and Chet Senior might’ve sat if the latter wasn’t also missing, there’s Lemon’s aunt, Trixie.
She’s dressed up. Clean face. Nice hair.
Scarlett doesn’t react, despite the implication of Trixie being in that specific seat.
She’s fucked. Jonas has marked her as his next target.
It’s a fucking taunt to us, seating her there.
If I weren’t mostly dead, I’d do something about it.
And is that Miss Navarro? I wonder, attention sliding to the women standing next to Trixie.
It is. Curious and curiouser. In the very front row, there’s Patricia Force, hands clasped over her mouth in shock.
She is the only one here who’s surprised by our bloody funeral procession.
The five of us move up the steps together, nice and slow so that I don’t pass out. Everyone else naturally adjusts their speed and gait to match mine. We’re an eerie cloud of freaks inside the diamond-toothed mouth of the mob.
Burt was eager to see if we’d even live long enough to show up.
On the dais, there’s Nisha and Bastian in all-red suits. Stoic. Also unsmiling. The pair of them pull back the lace of Scarlett’s hat, like drawing open a set of curtains. They pin it while the entire room waits, and then we turn to each other.
Scarlett takes my hands, peering into my eyes through the holes in the mask. Alexei is on her right, Widow on her left. Ash stands beside me, hands folded together in front of him. With the disguises, it doesn’t really matter much who stands where or does what.
This is the dark game that we’re playing, fucked-up and mostly dead inside that unholy church.
I don’t remember anything between that moment and lying in bed back at the house.
“Love, true love, will follow you forever and ever,” Scarlett whispers against my ear, brushing my hair back with hot fingers. It’s a not-quite-right quote from The Princess Bride. “I treasure you, my dark love.”
I’m vaguely aware of the music vibrating through the walls of my house.
Ah, yes. That’s right. My party.
And then I black out.