Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
LIAR
Waking up with Nix was the best. Last night hadn’t lived up to my expectations, what with him being shot and then collapsing on my bed like a big hunk of wounded meat.
I’d been tortured all week, promising myself a respite with Nix, where we’d be civilized and he’d say sweet things, and I’d smile and not show my pain, but then somebody shot him and all he wanted to do was sleep and give me a craving for Betty’s ravioli.
I scowled at Roger when he came back from throwing out my husband. “If you want me to cooperate…” I began before he cut me off.
“I don’t care. I’m not one of these villains who can’t hurt their precious. You’re just an interesting test subject as far as I’m concerned, and today, we’re going to see how much we can make you suffer!” Roger’s eyes were bright and gleeful, his smile manic. And he wasn’t a villain?
Flowers cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want Nix to come back tonight, Roger? Seeing the ugly side of her condition might tip him towards violence.”
Roger shrugged. “So? He punches us, we punch him back. He’s not going to hurt his Kitten. If he takes her away, she’s dead.”
Flowers sighed and came close to look at me with concern in his eyes. “You do seem better after spending the night with your husband. How do you feel?”
I was still shy and awkward around Flowers, even though he was always polite, considerate, and well-mannered. Probably because of it. “My feet were warm for the first time in a week. Of course I like having him here. It’s just…”
“What?” he asked when I didn’t finish the second. “What is it, Sunshine?”
“This past week has been really rough. I’ve never had such intensely miserable treatments before, and I’ve had a lot.
Roger says it’s going to get worse, and I trust him there.
He spent two days getting me stable so I wouldn’t freak out Nix, but if my husband sees me how I am during the rough times, it’ll be hard on him. I won’t be able to smile and pretend.”
Flowers took my hand carefully, almost squeezing my fingers, but mostly just warming them up.
“He would rather be with you than do anything else. You told me that he’s a follower of Hobbes.
Life is short. He wants to spend it with you.
If he can’t handle seeing you tonight, we’ll keep him away for another week.
But this way we won’t have to take breaks between treatments just so you can look pretty for him. ”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Are you calling me vain?”
He smiled back at me. “Beautiful women are always a little bit vain, and you are very beautiful.”
I rolled my eyes and settled back, still feeling Nix’s warmth against my side, like a ghost haunting me in the best way.
I was already hooked up to so many needles that I didn’t notice Roger’s newest treatment until my veins started pulsing in pain.
Yeah. It wasn’t an easy day, and the worst thing was how bad I looked at the end of it. I also couldn’t stop crying.
Nix came in with a pillow that time. I hadn’t remembered to tell Roger to turn off the light, so Nix got to see me looking like a swollen, ghoulish, corpse. He immediately settled on the bed next to me and snuggled close enough that I could feel his warmth seep into me.
“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m beautiful?” I rasped. And that’s all the energy or breath I had. I was out. Done.
“Nope. I’m just here to sleep.” He settled a little closer and I grasped his shirt, holding on as tight as I could while I trembled.
“If you cry, you’ll just be dehydrated,” Roger said helpfully before he threw a blanket over us, turned off the light and shut the door.
“Like he doesn’t have an extra sack of fluid he can hook me up to,” Nix growled, like he’s the one who was crying.
He wasn’t. His breathing was even, steady, although his inhales seemed longer than usual, like he was sniffing me.
I would have asked him what he was smelling, but I passed out instead.
I vaguely woke up when he pressed a kiss to my hair, and then he was gone. The next two weeks were a blur of drugs and pain, overshadowed by his presence, his strength, his love.
Finally, that segment of the treatment was over, and Roger let me recover enough that I could actually snuggle against Nix, kiss his neck, and be mostly aware of him.
I opened my eyes and Nix was staring at me, awake with the dawn, but not moving. Was he really here, or just one of my weird hallucinatory dreams? I poked his nose.
“Ouch,” he said. It was taped, but had it really hurt him? He hadn’t flinched.
“My bad,” I rasped. “Water?”
He handed me my bottle, holding it so I could suck liquid out of the straw like a pro. When I finished, he put it away and went back to staring at me.
“Pretty, right?” I said, feeling uncomfortable under that gaze. I hadn’t woken up on my own in ages.
“Not a big enough word, Kitten. You’re fighting so hard. I’ve never seen anyone fight like you. It’s inspiring. You’re inspiring.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead, nose, then mouth, lingering on my lips like they weren’t cracked and bloodless.
I wrapped my hands around his neck, and held onto him, letting his kiss drown out every other bad thing in the world.
“What’s this? My patient has the energy to enjoy herself? Can’t have that,” Roger said.
Why did I choose him? I must have been very sick and masochistic. Also insane.
I reluctantly released Nix and he broke the kiss, but the look in his eyes was so sweet, so burning. He wanted me even like this? He had to be crazy.
“Crazy about you,” he murmured then winked, rolled off the bed, and left the room.
I stared after him. I hadn’t said that last part out loud, had I?
“I have a new canvas,” Flowers said, coming in and setting up for painting, looking pleased. “What should we paint?”
Ah. He was still pretending that we painted together. Father-daughter bonding was so weird when one of them was attached to a hospital bed, but I appreciated his efforts. He wasn’t medicating himself so he could function around me. I loved that.
“Do you sculpt?” I asked while Roger adjusted machines around me, taking notes on his device.
“I have done some. You?”
“Wood carving,” I said, feeling like an idiot. “But I’d like to do a larger-than-life marble statue of Nix. Don’t you think he’d make the best statue?”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I have a room downstairs we could turn into a studio. I’ll import some marble, bring in some artisans, and you can lead the project. This time. Next time, you can do it on your own. When you’re well.” He said that last part pointedly.
I frowned at him. “Why do you say it like that?”
He hesitated then sat on the edge of the bed so he could peer into my eyes. His eyes were so much like mine. “You’re enduring beautifully, fighting nobly, but it seems that you lack faith.”
I glanced at Roger who gave me a sadistic brow wriggle. I cleared my throat and then reached for my water. Flowers got it for me, holding it steady so I could sip through the straw.
“If DuPre could be cured, why not you? You can do it!” He shook his fist while he made a ‘yay’ face.
I stared at him and then started to smile. He was so cute. I patted his hand. “You want me to do that positive manifesting thing? My aunt had me do a lot of that the last time I had intense treatments. That ended with the loss of all hope and the knowledge that I had six months to live.”
He stood up, looking austere. “Your aunt did not have my resources, and you did not have such a burning reason to live. The situation is quite different, I assure you.”
I laughed and then sighed. “How long do I have until the next round of treatments?” I was feeling much better. I could use a week of recovery before…
“It’s already begun,” Roger said with a devastating grin. “It’s so much worse than anything you’ve ever done before. That must mean it’s working.”
“Unless you’re just that evil.”
He shrugged. “Could be. What are you going to paint while you descend into the throes of agony and desolation?”
I looked at Flowers. “Can I get some sketch paper and reference of Nix? I want to do that while you paint a field of poppies.”
“Of course. Let’s get started on your first sculpture.” Flowers gave me a kind, approving look and then left the room.
“One thing,” Roger said, handing me a phone. “Call Beastie while Flowers is finding you arts and crafts supplies. Otherwise, he might murder me.”
I took the phone in shaky hands. What was I thinking, that I could sketch Nix when I could barely hold a phone? I pushed Beastie’s face, then hit speaker. Holding it up would be too hard so I let it fall limply to the green blanket.
It rang twice and then he picked up.
“I’m going to kill you,” he said, voice hard, enunciation very good.
“That’s what you said, but I thought I already turned you down. We’re positive manifesting, not negative manifesting. As in, I’m going to live long enough to beat you in the basin.”
He was quiet for a second then exhaled a long breath. “You sound better than I expected.”
“Come on, now. I can sound a million times better any time I want. I’m a liar, you know.”
“Pathological. You seem to be out of the habit, though.”
“I’ll always lie to you.”
“That’s very reassuring. How are the treatments?”
I hesitated. “They’re quick. Fail hard is Roger’s motto.”
“How hard?” His voice was taut.
He was more delicate about my health than Nix.
“Hard enough that I’m mostly unconscious.
I haven’t been this coherent for a few weeks.
And I’m wasting it on you, talking about the most boring thing in the world: my health, or lack thereof.
Do you not have anything interesting to say?
I’m tempted to send Roger to cut your hair while you’re sleeping. ”
Roger perked up at that. “I’m thinking we buzz ‘hot’ into his scalp on one side, and on the other, ‘ness’. It’ll make the girlies crazy.”
“Did you hear that?” I asked.
Beastie snorted. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Nope. I should be building up my morale by talking to my best bud who is going to give me a reason to live. Let’s hear it.”
“You want a reason to live? Since you went into that hospital, I’ve been in twenty-two brawls off-camera which involved a lot of pain for everyone.
And I’m not even talking about killing people.
Which is my real job. I am the head assassin for the House of Beasts.
Nix doesn’t really see the benefit of quiet assassination, but after he was attacked, it’s not like we could let that go, so I’ve been working with Arnold, who is amazingly messed up, to take down those who gave the order.
Nix isn’t entirely aware of what goes on in the House of Beasts because he’s busy with the season and he’s paying attention to you.
He will, though. He will take it and mold it into whatever he thinks your world needs.
So, maybe you should talk to him about what the world needs.
He’d definitely respect your input way more than mine.
Tell him that he has to kill everyone who threatens him and by extension, you. ”
I blinked at Roger. He shrugged like Beastie being an assassin was common knowledge.
I licked my lips. “You kill people? How? Poison? Electrocution? Scaring them to death?”
He laughed and sounded unbalanced, but real. “Depends on the day. These deaths have to be obvious retribution from the House of Beasts, so there’s been a lot of decapitation. One I chopped off his hands and left them while I put the rest of his body in—”
“Okay. That’s cool. That’s so cool. Roger has to torture me now, so I’ve gotta go. Love ya, Beastie.”
“Love ya, Liar.” He hung up first, mostly because my hands weren’t functioning properly.
“Is he joking?” I asked Roger.
He shrugged. “I’ve been too busy working on your torture to listen to the gossip. Shall I take a moment?” He took the phone and called a number, still on speaker.
“Yo, Rog! You’ve got to come to Bristol and see these turtles! Also the girlies are really cute, but the turtles are like cars!” Ah. He’d gotten the term ‘girlies’ from Trevor. What an idiot.
Roger raised a brow at me and replied, “Sounds fantastic, but I’m stuck here working on this thing. What’s the gossip on the Prophet?”
“Oh, you know, doing the work for the House of Beasts like a real Beastie boy. It’s good, though.
Taking down some bad people who used to be allied to the Crocodile.
Can’t believe she’s dead. Thought she was immortal from stealing souls or something.
These turtles, man! And there was this one guy, only his hands were whole, sitting on his desk, holding a pen, while the rest of his body was shredded over the lawn. Like mown. How would you even do that?”
I shuddered and Roger grinned at me.
“He’s got an artistic streak. Send me a picture of the turtles. Gotta go.” He hung up and then after a second showed me an enormous turtle with Trevor leaning against it with an ocean backdrop behind him.
“Wow. Those turtles are like cars,” I said stupidly. Beastie actually chopped off someone’s hands and then mowed the body all over the lawn? Shudder. Maybe I’d also vomit.
“Bad people deserve bad ends.”
“Like Beastie?”
He shrugged. “His only good side is you. He definitely didn’t deserve you.
Look at the mess you made of him, giving a psychopath like that a conscience, a reason to fear.
It’s terrible. Like what I’m about to do to you.
Heroes are the worst.” He winked at me with that dark-lashed aquamarine eye and then the pain hit me hard enough, I couldn’t think of anything else.