Chapter Twelve #3
“About?”
Sophie gives him a look.
Whiskey glances at me instead. “You good?”
I blink.
That question.
Not stay.
Not don’t go anywhere.
Not I’m coming too.
Just, You good?
“Yeah.”
He nods once and walks away.
Sophie watches him go. Then looks at me. “Well.”
“What?”
“You broke him.”
“I did not.”
“He asked permission with his eyes.”
“He did not.”
Sophie smiles faintly. “Sure.”
Whiskey passes behind us, takes one look at Sophie beside me, and stops.
“Jesus, Deputy.”
I turn. “What?”
His gaze travels from Sophie’s head to mine. “Never realized how fucking tall you are until somebody parked you next to Soph.”
Sophie looks up at him. Way up. “I’m right here.”
“Barely.”
Across the room, Legend lifts his head.
Whiskey points at me. “She started it.”
I look from Sophie, who barely clears my shoulder, to Legend. “How the hell does that even work?”
Sophie takes a calm drink from her mug. “Very well.”
Whiskey starts laughing.
We sit at the bar.
Sophie and I have talked evidence before. Fathers, money, properties, Pearly Gates. This is apparently the first time we’re sitting down to discuss men.
I’m not convinced it’s an improvement. Becki joins us a minute later carrying bottled water. She puts one in front of me.
“No bourbon?” I ask.
“Boys drank enough for everybody before noon.”
Sophie takes a drink from her mug. “You okay?”
Everybody keeps asking me that.
Maybe I look worse than I think.
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” Becki says.
I look at her.
She shrugs. “I’ve been kidnapped by one of them too.”
My eyebrows rise. It takes a second before I realize she’s not talking about Whiskey kidnapping me.
Royal shouts, “Context!”
Becki raises her voice. “There ain’t enough context!”
I laugh before I can help it.
Sophie does too.
Across the room, Royal looks deeply offended.
Whiskey looks amused.
Legend doesn’t.
He’s watching Sophie.
She knows. Doesn’t look back.
I lower my voice. “You two okay?”
Sophie knows exactly who I mean. Her finger traces the edge of her mug.
“We’re us.”
“That tells me exactly nothing.”
“It’s the one I’ve got.”
I glance at her bare left hand.
“Wedding’s still off?”
“Postponed,” she corrects quietly. “Indefinitely.”
Becki looks down at her water.
Sophie’s smile has no humor in it. “We love each other. Sometimes that ain’t the same as being ready to marry somebody.”
I think about Whiskey.
My stomach does something ridiculous.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Sophie looks directly at me. “Wouldn’t you?”
“No.”
“You’re here.” I stop with the water bottle halfway to my mouth. “You could have bolted.”
Whiskey told them. That son of a bitch.
“He told you?”
“Told Legend. Legend told nobody. Royal overheard. Royal told Becki. Becki told me.”
Becki takes a drink. “Communication.”
“Gossip.”
“Same infrastructure.”
I laugh despite myself.
Then Sophie gets serious. “These men will tell themselves keeping things from you is protection.”
Coming from Sophie, that ain’t theory.
I glance toward Whiskey.
He’s talking to Bullet now, but he checks me once while I’m looking.
“I noticed.”
“They’ll decide for you.”
“Also noticed.”
“They’ll make you so mad you wanna hit them with furniture.”
Becki nods. “Can confirm.”
Sophie looks across the clubhouse at Legend.
“And sometimes they’re right about the danger.”
There is the part I don’t want.
“What do you do with that?”
“Badly.”
I smile. “Not helpful.”
“It ain’t supposed to be helpful.”
Her gaze returns to mine.
“You don’t have to trust Whiskey because he wants you to.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
“But?”
“No but.”
That surprises me.
Sophie shrugs. “Trust what he proves.”
Becki taps her bottle lightly against the bar. “That part.”
I look toward Whiskey again.
He catches me.
Raises one eyebrow.
I look away too late.
Sophie sees.
“Yeah.”
“Stop.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Becki laughs and pats my arm. “Welcome to Hell.”
Then Whiskey’s phone rings.
He checks the screen, and his whole face changes before he even answers.
Wren.
I know without seeing the name.
My phone should be in my pocket. It ain’t. Whiskey still has it somewhere from the kidnapping portion of this relationship.
I remember that and immediately get pissed off again.
“Hey, baby.” Everything about his voice softens. The clubhouse keeps moving around him. He doesn’t. “Yeah.”
He listens, then shakes his head. “No, Glamaw ain’t burning supper.”
From somewhere near the bar, Holler mutters, “Debatable.”
Whiskey gives him the finger without looking away from the call. Then his face changes. “What?” He turns slightly away from the room.
The smile leaves mine.
“What do you mean he came back?”
Cold slips beneath my skin.
Whiskey’s attention narrows.
“Wren.”
A pause.
“Baby, where are you?”
Whatever she says pulls every trace of humor out of him.
“No. You stay inside.”
The room begins noticing.
Legend notices first.
“What?”
Whiskey raises one hand without looking at him.
Listening.
“Don’t go to the window.”
My heart starts beating faster.
Sophie looks at me.
I stand.
Whiskey’s voice stays calm.
Too calm.
“Tell me again.”
He listens.
“The deer?”
What the hell?
Royal frowns.
Whiskey drags one hand over his beard.
“What deer?”
Another pause.
Then he says, “Prickle.” Whiskey closes his eyes. “Baby, I don’t know who Prickle is.”
He listens again.
“What do you mean your friend?”
I move closer.
Whiskey sees me coming and doesn’t tell me to stay back.
“Outside where?”
Another pause.
“Tree line?”
My skin prickles. Appropriate.
“Wren, listen to me. You do not go outside.”
He listens.
“No, I don’t care if he’s nice.”
Royal’s eyebrows climb.
Becki whispers, “Imaginary friend?”
Whiskey glances toward her before Wren says something else.
Whatever it is drains the remaining color from his face.
“What did you say?”
Even Legend stops moving now.
Whiskey’s voice lowers.
“Say that again.”
He listens for a long time, then looks directly at me.
I don’t know why.
“He doesn’t like who?”
Another pause.
“The church people?”
My stomach drops.
Nobody speaks.
Whiskey turns partly away. “Wren, how do you know that?”
Whatever answer she gives doesn’t help.
His mouth flattens. “No. You stay with Glamaw. Lock the door. I’m coming.”
He hangs up.
Legend is already moving toward him. “What happened?”
Whiskey looks at him. “My kid’s got an imaginary friend.”
Oaks blinks. “That what we’re calling an emergency now?”
Whiskey’s look could strip paint. “Says it’s a deer.”
Becki frowns. “What kind of deer?”
“Called Prickle.”
Royal exhales. “That’s kinda cute.”
Whiskey ignores him. “Says it lives outside.”
I cross my arms. “Kids do that.”
He looks at me. “Wren says it watches people.”
That ain’t as cute.
Sophie’s expression tightens. “Maybe she saw a real deer.”
“Probably.”
Whiskey doesn’t sound convinced.
“What else?” Legend asks.
Whiskey looks toward the door.
“She said Prickle don’t like the church people.”
Nobody moves.
Legend looks at Whiskey.
Whiskey looks at me.
Pearly Gates was already wrong. We knew that before Kaylee ever came out of the woods bleeding.
What I didn’t have before this was a living girl saying they don’t let people leave and independently describing the same wrong hymns already buried in Cider’s memories.
Add Cider reacting to that confirmation, Mercy surfacing again, and a seven-year-old’s imaginary deer somehow knowing enough to dislike church people, and this day can officially go fuck itself.
Whiskey grabs his cut. “I’m going home.”
“I’m coming.”
He stops and looks at me.
“You ain’t gotta.”
“I know.”
That changes his face. Whiskey reaches for me.
Not my wrist. My hand. His fingers close around mine.
“I’ve got backup.”
I look down at our joined hands, then up at him.
Maybe he realizes exactly what he did.
Maybe he doesn’t.
Either way, I go with him.
Outside, the Kentucky night feels different than it did when we arrived. The air has cooled, but humidity still clings to my skin, and the trees beyond Hell are black shapes against a moonless stretch of sky.
Whiskey reaches the Harley and hands me the spare helmet.
“You believe in monsters, Deputy?”
I look at him. “Human ones.”
“Yeah.”
His gaze shifts toward the dark hills.
“Me too.”
I put on the helmet.
Then I think about a little girl calling something Prickle. A deer with a name.
Something that supposedly lives beyond Whiskey’s tree line, watches the road, and knows enough to dislike church people.
For the first time all night, I’m not entirely sure the human kind are the only monsters we need to worry about.