Chapter 24 #3
I throw on a smirking smile, imagining my enemies listening in tonight. Behind me, all three boys stand perfectly stoic, hands folded identically in front of them. They’re doing this on purpose, blurring their identities. I can’t help but steal a few quick looks behind me.
“Good evening, Prescott,” I purr, and I like the way the crowd ripples as my voice oozes out on this, our farewell broadcast. How bittersweet. “This is Scarlett Force, your resident racer checking in.”
I put my hands on either side of the headphones, walking first one way across the platform and then the other. Dragging the moment out. I’m going to need the neighborhood on my side to pull off my next stunt.
“You know as well as I do that tonight, it’s time to say goodbye. Let this parting be both sweet and sour. You can’t trust the mayor, but you can trust that a Prescott bitch never leaves a debt unsettled.” The inference is there: I have a blood debt and everyone knows it.
“For now, enjoy the dark fruits of our wedding bells, and feel free to tell anyone who asks what we’re up to—so long as they pay you for that tea.
As soon as this broadcast ends, start filming everything.
Stream it. Share it. Show Prescott to the entire world.
” I hold up a single finger, my face falling from coy and flirty to a river of ice, just like the McKenzie down the hill from us.
“All I ask is that you do not film at three a.m on the night of Snow Day. The witching hour is off-limits.”
I put a finger to my lips.
There on the balcony, in front of all the eyes of Prescott, the sight of me standing with three masked men cements itself into the collective memory of the neighborhood. Bet it sticks like that too, the idea of me with three.
Don’t let anybody ever tell you otherwise: it’ll always be me and four.
Even if someone dies. Even if— Bohnes.
Widow has the genius idea to reach into the room and flick off the balcony light, plunging us into darkness and bonfire shadows.
“That’s easy enough, ain’t it?” Wolfman asks, taking over the air for the last time. “Remember folks: all you know about Scarlett Force is that she’s from Prescott and she knows how to race.”
“Oh, and that I got a lotta fuckboys,” I add with a laugh, taking off the headset. “Peace, Prescott.” I turn off the mic next and lean over, folding my arms on the balcony railing as I watch Wolfman, Milicent, and Nessie occupy the stage for the last time.
“This is Milicent signing off with one last song. I love you all. Stay safe.” Mili blows kisses to the crowd from behind her rubber mask and they cheer, muddying the airwaves.
“The truth always hurts far greater than a lie,” Emma Jean adds cryptically, her own Loch Ness monster mask in place. “This is Nessie, your friendly journalist. Keep your eyes on Scarlett because we’re going to make sure she puts Prescott on the map. I’ll be reporting live.”
“And that’s all sports fans,” Wolfman breathes, starting up the station’s final playlist. “KZMI 66.6, out.”
The first tune is “Little Girl Gone” by CHINCHILLA. Next up is “BAKA” from pH-1 and CHANMINA. Lastly, and most appropriately, it’s “COUP D’ETAT” by G-DRAGON.
Three songs later, the radio goes silent, and I become the last legend to occupy an era. The silver screen of Prescott is torn and rustling in an undead wind. Let some other bitch take the stage. I make the sign of the upside-down cross, peering down at the wild mass of the crowd.
The radio might be dead, but Prescott is as alive as ever tonight.
Turning, I step calmly inside, waiting for the doors to be shut behind me. I start running as soon as the curtains are drawn, sprinting out of the room and down the hall. My hand is trembling as I try to open our bedroom door and find it locked. My knock is hard and fierce, like a cop knock.
Nisha drags the door open from the other side and gestures for us to come in.
Bastian is sitting at the edge of the bed, watching Bohnes sleep.
I walk slowly over to his bedside, staring down at an already pale face turned even paler.
My heart skips over a beat. My bones shiver.
My soul folds over and drags my body with it.
I climb into bed, cuddling up against my Nightmare and holding him as tightly and as fiercely and as full of love as I ever wanted to. The impossible boy, the one I wasn’t supposed to have. I knew he would ruin me. I knew he’d crawl inside and take over everything.
“We’ll…just see ourselves out,” Bastian mutters, grabbing onto Nisha’s arm and pulling her to the bedroom door. It opens and closes on the light of the hallway, leaving us in the darkness of a bedroom with only a single night-light.
Alexei and Ash disappear into the bathroom, and I hear the sound of the water in the shower.
Warm hands press against the naked skin of my upper back.
“Shower. Change your clothes. I’ll sit with him until you come out.” Widow encourages me to stand up. It feels impossible, but he’s right. I shouldn’t have touched Bohnes as it is. I don’t want to cause an infection.
I’ll be right here, my dark love. I’ll be right here.
Always.