49. Teddy
FORTY-NINE
TEDDY
“Mommy dearest has been missing you.”
The knife in my grasp slips as it did this morning, before I sank to my knees and damned myself to hell for the sake of saving Eden. I can still feel the delighted shiver of his papery hands on my cheeks as I took him in my mouth at the bottom of the stairs, my mom sleeping peacefully just a few doors away.
And after, I vomited so hard I blacked out.
But all of that pales in comparison to the words Daniel has just uttered, and the truth of it is reflected in Eden’s terrified violet eyes.
“You fucker,” I seethe, taking a threatening step forward. Eden silently cries, a sliver of hope hidden in her gaze, but one I cannot latch onto, not right now. I have to be calculated, because Daniel’s stupidity and drunkenness can very easily spiral, and I will not risk her like that. But at the same moment, the voices have gone absolutely feral in my head, raging, gnashing their teeth savagely, each reaching for the one thing that keeps us sane, the pull so intense I rock forward onto my toes before I can stop myself. “Let her go.”
My voice is a hushed growl full of promises of chaos and sickening violence. Eden, pale cheeks blotchy, eyes as wide as they’ve ever been, tilts toward the command in my tone, her soul bound to mine in ways unfathomable.
Daniel chuckles and shakes his head, twisting the gun, grinding it to her temple, her raven black hair plastering to her dewy forehead and damp cheeks.
“You lost me quite a fucking sum of money. They are paying triple,” he says, stepping backwards, taking my life with him. My heart thrashes in my chest like a caged lion, provoked to its carnal instincts of horrific violence. Another step back. Eden digs her heels in, but he drags her raggedy Converse across the smooth concrete floor, a trail of congealing blood connecting her and what was once Vic.
If I move, I risk her . I repeat the words in my mind over and over, shoving back the voices with all of my strength.
“How swift do you think your death will be, if you do this?” I hiss. “You claim to know me. Which means you know it won’t be quick. I’ll keep you as my fucking pet, I promise you that.”
He shakes his head and laughs, dragging Eden back with increasing fervency. I’m scaring him, and I’d rather he run than linger; he wants his money, and I don’t want him to be able to hold a gun to her head anymore.
“You can’t touch me. He’ll sell your mother on the market like the cunt she is.”
My body lurches forward, and Eden squeaks in fright as Daniel stumbles in fear and fumbles with the revolver. Heart aching in desperation, I stop, contain my fury, and refocus.
“We’re already stuck here, isn’t that enough?” I shout, voice rising. The door upstairs slams open, and my face jerks in that direction.
“Down here, keep the kid alive but away,” Daniel yells, and the pummeling of heavy footsteps ricochets off the walls.
“Teddy?” Eden says, her voice soft but high pitched in her raw fear, a slight tremble in her delicate tone. The sound of someone begging for life while on the cusp of tears, knowing that death is what is imminent.
And it eviscerates me. I will never be able to scrub it from my skull, that desperate little plea wrapped up in my name. She will haunt me in life and in death, but the difference is, without her, when I relive these darkened moments, I may never resurface. I need her to exist. There is nothing else anymore.
Men grab at her, yanking her from Daniel’s arms as he points his gun at me, my ears buzzing. My knife clatters to the ground, and I raise my hands, needing to show I’m no threat.
If I am going to hunt my little ghost down, I need to be at my best.
After an eternity, they drag her screaming up the stairs, and the sound is enough to make me go insane from grief. But the moment they disappear and the doors slam closed, I swoop down to collect my knife and turn to sprint to the alley doors at the end of the hall. The moment I’m outside, Cash’s cherry red Mustang comes into view, ostentatious on such a dark, rainy day. He waves me toward him, pointing with his other hand the direction they have gone, but I’m still in a full-on sprint and don’t need any encouragement.
He throws open the passenger door for me, and I slide in, slamming it closed as he peels out, horns blaring from all directions, his car fishtailing on the wet pavement.
“Fuck!” I scream, slamming my fist through his dashboard, blood spurting from between my knuckles upon impact. He has the wherewithal to not say a fucking thing. “Car?” I hiss, attempting to reign myself in.
“Black Beemer, two cars ahead. You good, Tedster?” he says smoothly, winding in between cars like a snake while maintaining his speed. My racing heart gallops, but slows a fraction with every inch we gain on them.
“No,” I grit out.
“What—”
“Her fucking mom. Daniel sold her back to her fucking bitch of a mother,” I seethe aloud, the voices all chanting how they’d like to see her die. How cathartic that day will be.
In response, he simply presses down harder on the gas pedal.
“Enlighten me,” he says through clenched teeth, narrowly dodging a pedestrian as we near the I-5 corridor.
The Mustang purrs loudly beneath us, a steady rumble I latch onto, my eyes never leaving the taillights in front of us.
“Her mom is part of some cult. Tracked her down a few days ago, but fuck she was hard to find. I couldn’t place their compound, but she’s high up in their ranks. Tried to give Eden to some fucker when she was thirteen.”
Cash glances in my direction, but I refuse to look away. Night has fallen, and rain pelts the windshield, the wipers nearly flying off with the wind from the storm and the speed we’re currently traveling.
It’s still not fast enough.
Skin crawling in turmoil at not being the one in control, I’m about to mouth off when the car ahead takes a sharp left, fishtailing as it heads for the bay. Cash doesn’t hesitate to follow, tires squealing and slipping across the wet asphalt. We wind between warehouses and shipyards, past docks and shoddy, closed businesses, until the world I am familiar with melts away, and we are alone in a jungle of warped steel and broken concrete.
“Get as close as you can,” I demand, an idea sparking in my brain as I flip my knife out and settle the blade between my teeth. We’re on a straightaway, the beacon of the red lights dimming, when I hear the pedal hit the floor and we’re flying. Cranking down the window, I pull myself up by the frame of the car and seat my ass on the windowsill. One arm inside keeping me anchored, I pinch the heavy knife handle between my fingers gently like Vic taught me and focus my eyesight on the black circle.
Gritting my teeth, I reel my arm back, and the second Cash’s front bumper noses its way up to their driver’s side door, I fling it forward with every ounce of strength in me.
The explosion of air from the tire is deafening, and the car careens sharply to the left, directly in our path. Cash slams on his brakes, locking his arms and pressing himself into his seat. Both cars come to a stop, our bodies settling in the sudden hush.
My heart leaps into my throat the moment the back driver’s side door opens, and out tumbles Eden, rushing toward me and stumbling in her haste. Yanking myself out of the window, my feet hit the ground and I’m sprinting breathlessly toward her—my beacon on the jagged cliffs in our kingdom.
But the clicking of another gun has us both stopping in our tracks. Eden’s eyes widen and gloss over, and rain races down her pale cheeks, disguising the tears she cries. Her bottom lip trembles, her body poised as though to keep running in my direction, but slowly, incrementally, she changes her posture and turns her back to me, her long wet hair hanging in thick tendrils down her slender frame.
She’s only two of my strides away. I could reach her, pull her to me—but I have no weapon. And even I am not skilled enough to beat a fucking bullet. I need to use my brain, and so does she.
The man who stands before us is familiar to me, though only through photos. Malachi Moreau. The man Eden was set to marry as a little fucking girl.
Malachi has three wives currently, I discovered. The youngest was eleven when their sick god told them she was to be the bride of their newest leader. I’ve only just unearthed these disgusting truths, but I’ve already made a thousand plans of just how I will torture him. He will be mine for years before I show him the mercy of death. A sneer curls my lip as I stare him down, but his eyes are on Eden alone, his bald head shimmering with rain.
“It’s time to come home, Eden,” he commands, extending his free hand to her, palm up, a snakelike smile on his thin lips.
“Her home is with me ,” I seethe through clenched teeth. His eyes never waiver, never even flick in my direction. Eden’s shoulders tense, and she shakes her head at him.
“Why can’t she just leave me alone?—”
“It is not your mother’s choice, but God’s,” he breathes, fully playing up his reverent bullshit. Eden shakes her head more fervently, her voice thick with tears and high pitched in her stress. The voices seethe and wail and reach for her, punishing themselves brutally for ever thinking we could revel and delight in killing her. The thought had been tantalizing, watching her face go purple while her cunt rippled around my cock, but a life without Eden?
I would become a walking ghost, a body that harbors no soul.
“ Fuck your god! ” I yell. If only they could hear the voices in my head, all in unison, chanting the same sentiment. He would realize demons do exist, and the legion itself is contained within me.
His eyes flicker, but stay on Eden’s quivering form.
“You know what happens to disobedient followers, Eden,” he warns. Her spine stiffens, and my muscles lock in preparation to spring at this fucker and tear his throat out with my bare hands. He pushes his open hand forward, lowering the gun in a gesture of good faith, when we hear the passenger side door open.
A wisp of a woman appears, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, the strands black but woven through with white, her face bony and severe, her lips wrinkled as though she keeps them pursed in distaste constantly. Her body is wiry, thin but strong, and her icy, purplish eyes cut from Eden to me in a flash.
Her bitch of a mother.
Eden stumbles back a pace in terror, almost within arm’s reach now. My heart soars, blood rushing to my head and making it pound in ecstasy.
Hope . Hope is fire, right in the center of your chest, a clenching of muscles that are reserved for a life’s most important moments.
“Get away from that filth and back into the car, Eden Marie. You know your place. God does not want?—”
“I don’t want your fucking god!” Eden screeches, throwing her fists down at her sides and standing her ground. If there wasn’t a gun pointed at us, I’d find her fury insanely hot, but all I can focus on is Malachi, ensuring he doesn’t try anything stupid.
I’d gladly take a bullet for my little ghost. She’s undoubtedly fucking worth it.
She takes another step back, and I can’t help but reach for her, my fingers curling around the soft fabric of my hoodie that she stole. The moment I give her a gentle tug, intending to slowly push her behind me so as to not further escalate the situation, another set of squealing tires cuts through the sound of pummeling rain and drowns out the heavy beating of my heart.
I’m about to glance behind me, to shove Eden into Cash’s car, when that telltale silver glint catches my eye at the last moment.
Time slows to an impossible speed.
Eden’s mother raises her own gun, the barrel pointed directly at my heart.
“No, not him, please !” Eden screams. Both of my hands fly up to grasp her arm, but she’s somehow faster, pushing away from me—pushing me hard enough that I stumble and catch myself.
For the second time tonight, a gun fires. Eden twirls toward me like a ballerina, but the utter shock etched into her stone-like features has my heart stopping altogether. Her lips part slightly, painted a bright, luscious red. When she closes her mouth and pales another shade, blood seeps from between the lips I’ve kissed what feels a thousand times.
Her eyes flicker, roll back, and I dive to her, catching her limp form as she falls to the cold ground. In the darkness, my hands rove her body as her lungs rattle and struggle to draw in breath, my hunt for the bullet wound ending quickly.
A pool of blood gushes against my hands, pouring over me from her beautiful, kind, gentle heart.
“No, no, no,” I whisper hoarsely, holding her wavering gaze. She stares at me as though this is her first time opening her eyes in this life, with such awe and wonder and trust. A small smile graces her bloody lips. Her cold, still fingers somehow manage to brush against my cheek. Her body is beginning to stiffen, no matter how tightly I press my hands to her wound. I feel every fucking heartbeat, how they grow weaker, and weaker, and weaker still, all while her smile grows.
“I love…you…”
“Fucking stop it, Eden. This isn’t it, I’ve got you, just hold…hold on, for me…please,” I beg through my teeth.
She giggles, only to choke on her blood. Cash is screaming at me from somewhere, yanking against my body, but I cannot move.
“Save her!” I yell to Cash. “Fucking save her, please !”
I push rhythmically against her chest, keeping her heart beating but only speeding up the amount of blood oozing from her wound. Only killing her faster. My hands still, coated with her beautiful shade of crimson.
Her fingers slip from my cheek, and she swallows thickly, her eyes dimming further. This time, when they find mine, they are sober, and a sob racks my frame, my body hunched protectively over her.
“I’m cold,” she says faintly, chin trembling. My forehead falls to hers as I choke on my tears, pulling her into me, releasing the pressure on her chest. If this is to be our last moments together in this life, she will know the peace of death in my arms.
“Shh, little ghost. I’m here,” I say, kissing her forehead. A fight ensues behind us, but I can’t care, not now.
“Teddy…”
I cup her cheek and hold her gaze.
“Why’d you do that, brat? I’m gonna beat your ass when I get to the other side.”
Her eyes close as the widest smile imaginable paints her cheeks.
“It’s beautiful over here,” she whispers, quoting her favorite book, a book scarily aligned with her in this moment. My eyes trace her ethereal face, death creeping through her veins, her muscles locking, her breathing shallow.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over her cold forehead.
“Find me…always.”
“Always,” I choke, gathering her into my arms. She hums, her cold lips smiling against my throat, leaving a bloody kiss there.
And then, she stills, her final breath a soft exhalation against my skin. The girl who can see the dead has now joined them.
How funny a feeling, to lose your soul and still be cursed with life, for I will never truly exist beyond this point in time ever again. Edgar Allan Poe was right all those years ago; nothing can ever dissever my soul from hers.
So I smile, knowing that until I can join her, she will be safe, protected by me wherever it is she’s gone.
I’m just glad she finds it beautiful.