Chapter 34
thirty-four
Gentry
Swing. Swing. Swing. Gentry never knew that she would miss the ability to close her eyes. But then again, she hadn’t been smart enough to die with her eyes closed.
Blackness would’ve been a welcome distraction from watching the crowd watch her.
As the wind played its part to push her up in her chains and gravity did the rest. Swing.
Swing. Swing. Like a marionette puppet only without the blessing of cloth flesh.
No, hers was changing by the hour. Stiffening. Becoming a thing. She was a thing.
Gentry fought the urge to leave the husk, to end the torment for the call of nothingness. She’d never believed in a god, so she wouldn’t start now. Swing. Swing. Swing. A little girl puked at the sight of her. Only the birds seemed to like her.
She’d never realized how terrifying a bird was once it no longer feared you.
It had flown in low sweeps close to her face in a test. It landed once it was sure she was dead.
Its talons flexed into her shoulder without reserve, made its mark into skin that could no longer feel.
But that didn’t stop the horror when the first one dared to tear at her flesh with its beak.
She heard it gulp its treat down before it went for another chunk.
Gentry fought to make her throat work, to command the muscles to scare the vermin eating her away. But it was a useless effort. Its friends joined in. Tearing and gulping down what remained of her.
Swing. Swing. Swing.
Gentry had fought to wake from the nightmare, but it seemed the tonic had taken away her ability to wake up, or scream, or do anything to stop the birds from eating her. Hopelessly, she teetered between consciousness and those terrible beaks.
But then she felt something warm and alive press into her, and the beaks went away. Distantly, she knew it was Kit, knew that she should wake up and handle herself. But she didn’t want to. This time, when she drifted between being asleep and awake, it was soothing, peaceful.
It was the best rest she’d gotten in years.
So that’s why when Gentry finally woke up all the way, a sleeping Kit curled protectively around her, she didn’t move a muscle.
It felt too… nice. The few flings she’d had before being cursed had never done this.
Held her like she was something precious.
It was something she hadn’t known she was missing.
When it came to seduction and sex, Gentry understood the game, the push and pull of who was in charge and who wasn’t.
It’d always been one she’d enjoyed. But this?
This was something too foreign. Curiosity had her snuggling deeper into that warm chest. She felt delighted when Kit’s arm tightened around her as he moaned into her ear.
This was something a girl could get used to.
Yeah, but are you sure this is smart? His ex-girlfriend died yesterday, and you made a deal with her killer. Should you really be letting him comfort you? her inner self whispered, hateful as usual.
The reminder threw cold water over Gentry’s happiness about just how right Kit’s arms felt around her.
She stiffened and immediately wiggled out, feeling guilty as a sleeping Kit moaned at the change in warmth.
As she stood over the witch, she waited as he settled down once again, one of his arms thrown awkwardly against his chest. He started to snore.
Satisfied that she hadn’t woken him up, Gentry padded into the bathroom and went about her day.
She dressed into the softest clothing she’d thrown in her backpack, black slack pajamas that felt more like a blanket than anything.
Then she combed her hair, brushed her teeth, and put lip gloss on, telling herself it was only because she had chapped lips, not because of the sexy witch assassin sleeping on her bed.
After all, being comfortable was paramount for meditation. At least, that's what she assumed.
Gentry immediately sat down at her laptop and proceeded to look up everything about meditation.
Frustration soon came as she realized everyone had different methods and definitions.
Some far more hokey-sounding than the others.
She settled on the most medical, scientific-looking website, the one that specified easily understood breathing techniques.
Each minute detail written down and analyzed, Gentry sat on the floor, cleared her mind and set a timer. Out one breath. In two. On repeat.
She went for as long as she could, trying to not let Kit’s snores distract her. Or the fact that she wasn’t sure how clearing her mind would get her closer to Drayer’s soul. All that tonic had done was give her a freaky, nonsensical dream.
But she persisted until those dratted snores ended and then slow footsteps indicated that her nighttime hero was out of bed.
“What’re you up to?” Kit sounded amused.
His voice sounded sexier and thicker with sleep. Gentry frowned at that observation and squeezed her eyes shut harder. “Meditating. Be quiet, you oaf.”
“You never struck me as the spiritual sort,” was all Kit said before he wandered off again.
The sounds of a shower running destroyed her focus.
The witch who’d held her was getting naked, and Gentry fought off images of the water running down his muscular body.
Blowing a frustrated sigh out, she opened her eyes and checked the timer.
A lousy fifteen minutes. She’d do better next time.
Gentry sat back at her computer, determined to see if there were any shortcuts she could take into becoming enlightened.
Sometime later, Kit returned dressed with his brown locks wet against his forehead. From his closed-off expression and the way he was looking at his phone, Gentry could already guess what he was about to say.
“You’re going out, aren’t you?” She didn’t mean to sound pouty, but the idea of an entire day of clearing her mind with no distractions didn’t exactly thrill her.
Kit looked up from his phone and smiled at her. “Yeah, I need to get this thing settled. You just focus on breaking that curse. I can already tell that your gears are turning.”
“When will you be back?” Gentry asked, suddenly uncertain on how she’d explain Adrienne and Wren’s impending visit.
If she had more time to work up her courage, perhaps she could tell him about Clea.
Now, whether that included the news about Visha…
she wasn’t sure. He deserved to know. He did.
But who was she to tell him something so terrible?
Particularly when she hadn’t even liked Visha.
“Probably the morning again,” was all he said, and then he was out the door.
Gentry let out a sigh of relief to have at least been given one day’s reprieve from that conversation. She went back to researching.