Chapter 9 Whitney #2
“I really want a burger. Let’s go there.” Plus, if I’m going to win someone like him over with food, it feels like the right kind to start with. Dead animals paired with French fries? What could be more death-god than that?
He nearly hits two different cars while parking, finally straddling a line on the back row. I can barely peel my hands off the grab strap over the passenger door. Perhaps I should’ve bought a compact car. A Tahoe’s hard to park.
“What?” He’s peering at me as we walk inside the restaurant.
I shrug. “It’s weird,” I say. “Two days ago, you were bursting out of a mountain, and then we rode through the night, basically.” I cough.
“With you murdering people all the way.” I lower my voice.
“And now we’re walking into a burger place, and I’m wearing a dress you made me out of nothing, carrying money we yoinked from an ATM.
” I shake my head. “It’s just been a really weird few days, and now, thanks to you, I’m a criminal. ”
“You’re learning to use your own abilities.” He glares at the teenage boy behind the counter. “Though I’m not sure what purpose coming here serves.”
“Welcome to Inclined Burgers,” the kid shouts unnecessarily. “Would you like to try some garlic fries today?”
“Based on the smell.” Xolotl cringes. “It seems he’s tried them.”
I laugh. “I think we’ll have the regular fries and two double inclined burgers, hold the onions.”
“Are you eating all of that?” Xolotl arches one eyebrow. “Because I hope you didn’t just order for me.”
I pay, ignoring him, and then I walk toward the tables.
It’s not busy in here, which is good. I’d be worried about any sideways glances or mistimed comments making Xolotl even crankier than he already is.
“Let’s sit here.” We’re facing the back windows that helpfully overlook an unsightly alley. “You, here.” I point at the bench seat.
“Are you arranging me so I can’t see any of the humans?” His lip twitches. “Because you know I can feel them.” His hands flatten on the faux-wood tabletop. “All of them.”
“Let’s talk about the burgers.” I ignore his ominous threat. “You said you don’t eat, but can you eat?”
“Can I put things in my mouth, chew, and swallow?” He grimaces. “Presumably, but why would I? I require no such sustenance.”
“How do you know?” I ask. “And as to why, you could do it because it’s fun. It feels good. It passes the time. Humans like eating.”
He glances at someone quite large who just squeezed past us. “Some of you like it far too much.”
“Hey.” I glare. “Listen, hundreds of years ago, you probably slaughtered tons of emaciated, starving people. Now we can feed the whole world, so the problems have swung the other way. We’re so good at making food that we have too much, and when people have a hard day, or week, or month, maybe we eat a little more to feel better than we strictly should. ”
“I don’t eat.” He’s remarkably detached about it. “My energy comes from other sources.”
“Like killing people?” I hiss.
A half-dozen heads snap our direction.
“Didn’t you say we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves while we’re operating under a negotiated ceasefire?”
“Why have you really kept me alive, if all you want to do is kill people, and all I want to do is save them?” I sigh. “What’s really going on?”
Xolotl spreads his hands. “You amuse me, and nothing has amused me in quite some time.”
Great. I’m a circus act. They call our number, so I stand. “You, wait here. No offing anyone until I get back.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “When you return, I can off people?”
I roll my eyes. “You knew what I meant—don’t break the rules while I’m not here.”
He’s smiling when I duck around the corner to grab our huge, meaty burgers. Apparently the Inclined burger has a lot of meat with cheese. I grab ketchup and mustard—you never know—on my way back. At least it smells good when I plonk it down on the table.
“Alright, now. You haven’t tried eating, so you might like it, and I’m claiming this is part of our deal.”
“Are you trying to show me that the world is a good place to try and change my mind about killing it off? And your weapon of choice is this?” He pokes at the burger basket.
It sounds stupid when he puts it that way.
“Or are you trying to turn me into a human by feeding me human food so that I won’t want to destroy them anymore?”
“Can I turn you mortal? Like humans that eat food in the faerie realm?”
“The what?” Xolotl looks confused.
“Forget it.”
Our neighbors are definitely pointing and staring, but they’re teenage girls who look like school just let out, and they’re hungry. I can’t tell whether it’s the bizarre things he keeps saying, like ‘destroy them,’ or whether it’s just that he’s stupidly hot.
“Is something wrong?” He turns to look at the table, and they burst into giggles.
Okay, it’s the super hot one, I think.
“It would help if you’d stop saying things like ‘kill it off,’ and ‘destroy them,’ so loudly,” I say. “You’re making the people in here uncomfortable.”
“They don’t look uncomfortable.” He frowns. “They look happy. That one just kissed her hand and then blew on it.”
I grab his hand, distracting him from the poor teenage targets unwittingly courting death itself. “Focus.”
He stares down at where our hands are touching. “On your hand?”
I snatch it away. “Focus on this experience, I mean.” I nudge the burger basket toward him, and then I carefully squirt some ketchup and some mustard on the edge of the basket. “Now, my favorite is a little mustard and a little ketchup, but some people even like mayo.” I can’t help making a face.
“You don’t like this mayo.” He frowns.
I shake my head. “Not at all. I think it’s made with eggs, but I swear it looks. . .” I scrunch my nose. “White blobs are just not appealing.”
“Then I think I need to try it.” He looks around. “Where do we find it?”
I stand, sigh heavily, and head back over to see if I can grab some mayonnaise. I do manage to find one container, sitting in the corner by the ketchup, and I bring it over.
Xolotl’s smiling, and I realize he was making a joke. “I don’t eat, Whitney. If you don’t like it, there’s no chance I will.” He inclines his head. “Consume your fuel so we can go.”
I cross my arms and glare down at him. “No.” I huff.
“If you’re mocking me, then you really do have to try a bite.
” I reach over, flip the top of his bun off, squirt some ketchup and them some mustard on it, and then slam the top back on.
“And for being snarky, you get to eat it the exact same way as me.”
He stares at me, incredulous.
I prepare my burger, then I pick mine up, and I pick his up, leaning over the table, and hold his in front of his mouth. His cobalt blue eyes stare up into mine. “Whitney.”
Something about the way he says my name sends a shiver up my spine. “Eat it.”
He keeps staring at me.
“Now.” I shove the burger closer.
His mouth opens, and when he closes it back over the burger, the edge of his lip closes over my finger, his unnecessarily sharp teeth grazing my pinkie.
“Ow,” I say, but my heart’s not in it. I’m distracted, somehow, by his eyes on mine, and his mouth on my hand. Stupidly distracted.
But Xolotl looks a little dazed too. Part of me wonders whether he feels it too—the strangely charged connection between us. It’s different than the tug of the bond. It’s bizarre and confusing. Was he affected by the same jolt of excitement that I was when we touched?
Xolotl smiles then, like he’s answering my question, and I stand stupidly over him, still holding the burger against his mouth.
His hands close over it slowly, his big, warm fingers wrapping around mine.
“What on earth is this?” He’s still staring right at me, and I know.
He feels it too. Then his eyes dart toward the burger, and he licks his lips. “This is amazing.”
Right.
The food.
Which is exactly what I wanted.
In the end, he eats eleven more burgers before we leave. Even the staff who work there are shocked. But I’m wondering whether my plan, surprisingly more successful than I expected, might still be a very stupid one. Xolotl liked the burger, but he doesn’t seem any less homicidal.
Me, on the other hand?
I’m afraid I might actually be swooning over Cobalt Blue, and that’s very very bad. I need to find a phone and call a friend stat.
While I still can be saved.