Dissent (28 page)

It
felt good to be back. The crowd seemed to scream louder, their noise
sinking into my skin, reverberating through my organs, charging my
blood. I hit the high note I had been missing all tour, smiling over
at Jay for a brief second, before throwing myself backward into the
crowd as Todd took off on his solo.

The
hands slid me out, bumping me playfully up and down, turning me, and
sending me back. No groping. No threats. Just fans carrying the act
for a few minutes.

I
was pressed back onto the stage, Jay shaking his head at me, but
smiling. Because he felt it too. We were back. We were better than we
had been in a long, long time. We ran off stage after our last song,
waiting in the wings, listening to the chants for an encore. There
was no question. We went back out. And played four more songs, until
my throat was raw, and Jay's fingers were numb, and Todd's arms were
aching.

“You
were on fire,” Jay said, grabbing me and spinning me around.

“I
think that might have been our best show ever,” I said, smiling
at the group of fans being held at the gates.

“No
contest,” I agreed, wiping at the sweat on my neck.

“You
ready for this?” Jay asked, nodding toward the group of girls,
with a select few guys mixed in.

“Yup.”

It
took me two hours to untangle myself from them, Jay hanging back to
pick which of the girls he was going to bring back to the bus to
screw around with. Burt watched me, smiling, as I danced my way back
to the bus.

“It's
nice to see you happy again,” he said, unlocking the door.

“It's
nice to
feel
happy again,” I agreed, stepping up into
the cab. “See you in a few,” I said, pulling the door and
locking it. The air conditioning hit my overheated and sweaty skin,
sending a shiver through my body.

Maybe
things would never be like they had been before. Maybe I wouldn't be
as reckless. Maybe I wouldn't walk around naked, or go to asylums
alone, or trust as many random strangers. But I could move on. Be a
newer, improved version of myself.

And,
maybe I wouldn't feel quite the way about someone as I did about
Isaiah, but that was normal. Everyone left their own unique holes
inside, ones that no one else could fill in, ones that would always
bear their name. It was useless to chase that again. Because it would
never be the same. But I could strive to find something new. Someone
new. I could open myself up to the possibility of a relationship,
which I had to admit, had never been something I had given a chance.
Blame the touring. Or the jealousy because I spent so much time
around other men. Blame my independent, sometimes abrasive spirit. I
had never given a guy a chance to do more than spend a week or two at
my side.

But
that could change. I could grow. I could find someone interesting and
adventurous and accepting of my unusual lifestyle. I could find
someone and let them be a part of my life. Because, I had realized,
that was what I wanted. I wanted the comfort. The affection. The sex.
I wanted to settle down a little bit.

Which
was it's own kind of scary. But a chance I wanted to take.

I
took a deep breath, an unusual smell making my nose sting. It was one
I knew well. Copper. Metallic. Like pennies. It was familiar, but not
a smell I was used to being on the bus.

Blood.
I smelled blood.

I
moved down the galley, looking for some evidence of a cut. Or maybe
food Burt had picked up that was particularly bloody. But there was
nothing. I walked into the bathroom, knowing we had each done our
fair share of bandaging before. But the sink and the garbage was
clean.

I
walked into the lounge, taking another deep breath, trying to clear
my sinuses, thinking maybe I just had the smell stuck in my nose from
the show. But all I got was more of the smell, strong, almost
overpowering.

With
my heart lodged a little further up my throat, I walked back to the
bunks, sliding open Isaiah's old bunk first, empty since he left, and
finding nothing. I swallowed past the sick feeling in my mouth,
hearing my pulse pound in my ears as I reached for my curtain, which
I had left open, and was somehow closed.

My
foot was balanced on the edge of the ladder and I felt it slip,
grabbing onto the bottom of the bunk with both hands. Because I
couldn't be seeing what I was seeing.

“No,”
I said out loud, a harsh whisper of a sound.

Because
there in the center of my bed, was Poe, a long line sliced down his
belly, his insides spilling out all over my mattress, blood
everywhere, darkened slightly by time. And, oh god, his one eye had
been gouged out, sitting next to his paw, looking at me.

“No,”
I cried again, louder, losing my footing and falling toward the
ground, running toward the bathroom as the bile rose up, hitting the
back of my mouth. I had just made it to the toilet when I threw up,
harsh and uncontrollable, my entire body shaking with the sensation,
tears streaming down my face.

I
flushed the toilet, rinsing my mouth, splashing my face, trying to
calm myself down. Trying to get a grip.

But
it was useless. There was no calming down. Someone had gotten on the
bus again. Someone had graduated from leaving threatening notes to
actually taking something I loved and killing it. Brutally.
Mercilessly. If ever there had been a thought that this man wasn't as
dangerous as I feared, it was gone. Because only fucking psychopaths
kill animals.

And
if he was willing to kill Poe, where did the line get drawn? Would
the guys be in danger? Could they be next? Them, full of their
masculine confidence, positive nothing could ever strike them down.
Would their ideas of invincibility make them careless? Could they end
up with their insides torn out?

Oh,
my god. I needed to get to them. I needed to fucking warn them. But
that would mean running across an empty field all by myself. In the
middle of night. When there was some sick fuck on the loose.

I
put my hand on the doorjamb between the bathroom and the lounge,
trying to figure out what I could do.

I
would have to wait. Wait for them to get back. Hope it wasn't too
late. Then we could band together. Try to figure out a plan. Try to
move forward together. I couldn't help them without risking myself. I
just needed to man the fuck up and keep myself calm. And wait. They
would be together. With a group of fans with them. They would be
fine. If I should be worrying about anyone, it should be myself.

I
inched myself into the lounge, looking around like someone might pop
up from under the cushions- horror movie style. I reached for a
bottle of water, taking a slow, shaky sip, trying to help the burning
in my throat. I couldn't bring myself to walk past the bunks, to walk
past Poe's little lifeless body.

I
just stood there, my heart pounding, my pulse in my ears, my throat,
my wrists, feeling cold from the shock and the vomiting, feeling
completely and utterly alone and freaked the fuck out.

There
was no one there. I had walked the whole bus already. If someone was
there, I would have found them. I was alone. Which was it's own kind
of scary. Though I was safe too because I was alone.

But
even as I was trying to convince myself of that, I heard it. At first
I mistook it for my own heartbeat. I took a deep breath, holding it,
listening. And heard it again. A shuffling. No, not quite a
shuffling. The tapping sound of shoes on hard floor. Slow. Like
someone was taking a step, pausing, then taking another. But the
sound was, undeniably, coming my way.

And
I had no fucking way out.

I
looked around frantically, trying to find something I could use to
defend myself. But there was nothing but bottles of drinks, a few
guitar picks, and a discarded sweatshirt. Nothing of use to me. I was
all on my own. Against someone who obviously had some kind of knife.

Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

Maybe
I was overreacting. Maybe it was one of the guys. It's not like they
always announced themselves when they came on the bus. And, besides,
I was a sitting duck, I would be discovered anyway.

“Jay?”
I asked, knowing somewhere deep down in my soul that it wasn't him.
He was always too loud. He never stepped hesitantly. He walked like
he had fucking cinder blocks attached to his feet.

There
was no answer. The feet paused for longer, like whoever it was was
getting off on my discomfort. Which, of course, he was.

“Burt?”
I asked. He could have been a slow walker. When he was checking
things out. Or cleaning things up. But... he never would get back on
the bus until everyone else was back, we were all packed up, and
ready to hit the road.

Another
long pause. I brought my hand up to my throat, like if I put my
fingers there, I would be able to loosen the knot inside and breathe.
The footsteps started up again. Near my bunk. Closer. A part of me,
irrationally, wanted to close my eyes like a child. Like if I
couldn't see it, it wasn't happening.

“Try
again,” the voice said, familiar. So familiar. “Maybe the
third time is a charm.”

“No,”
my breath rushed out of me. No. No no no no no.

Twenty-four

“Yes,”
he said, sneering, a smile that seemed so wrong on a face I thought I
knew so well. The warm brown eyes. The short blonde hair. The long,
thin body.

Everything
about him had always seemed shy and sweet and hesitant.

“Todd?”
I half-asked, because I just couldn't believe what I as seeing.

“Never
thought to suspect me, did you?” he asked, widening his legs so
his boots hit either side of the doorway. “Poor little virginal
Todd,” he mocked, tilting his head at me. “It was a good
cover, wasn't it?”

“Years?
You've been keeping up the guise for years?” Jesus Christ. We
lived together most of the time. We ate, played, sang, danced,
talked. We had been as close as people could get. And it was all just
a show?

“It's
always better when you... delay gratification,” he smiled and
it chilled me to the bone.

“Why?

“Why
what? Why you?”

“For
starters.”

“I
don't like women like you.”

“Like
what?” I asked, trying to distract him, trying to draw this
conversation. Trying to get more time so someone could come help.

“Who
think they're so strong. So fierce. So much better than men. Oh, if
you only knew how many nights I came back to this bus, thinking about
all the ways I would make you aware of how weak you actually are. I
stroked my cock thinking about stabbing holes into you and fucking
them. I...” I felt myself blanch at his words, swallowing hard
to keep whatever was left in my stomach, down. His head titled to the
side, looking amused. “What's the matter, Darcy? Does that
sicken you?”

Time.
I needed time. I needed to stall. No matter how much I wanted to
scream at him. To rage. Hell, to cry. No matter how much I wanted to
try to make a run for it. I would never get away.

“Why
start with the notes all of a sudden?” I asked, keeping my eyes
on his, though it was the last place I wanted to look. To see a
monster where there used to be a friend.

“I
liked watching you squirm. I knew we were getting close. That it was
almost time. And I wanted to see you sweat.”

“You
got off on the fear,” I said, spitting the words, not able to
temper my feelings anymore.

“Every
drop of it,” he agreed. “To see that fear in your eyes.
To hear you cry in your bunk at night. It was intoxicating.”

“God,
were you always such a sick fuck?”

He
smiled at that, like it was what he wanted. He wanted the defiance.
He was going to get hot at the idea of taking me down a few notches.
“You mean... have I ever used this,” he said, drawing out
a blade, still stained a reddish black from Poe's blood, “on a
woman before?”

“Or
a poor helpless animal.”

Todd
smiled. “You loved him. I needed to take away everything you
loved. Your cat. Your fuck buddy...”

“Well,
you fucked up there,” I said, raising my chin, “because I
never loved Isaiah.”

“Oh
yeah?” he asked, turning the end of the knife in my direction.
“A hundred bucks says that his is the name you'll be calling
out when I plunge this into that tight cunt of yours.”