Silenced (3 page)

“No.” I cough, then shake my head to push back the dizziness. “No, I see her now. That was the deal.”

Jax stares me down with his good eye, then nods his head over my shoulder. A woman appears at my left side. She tucks her shoulder under my armpit and pulls me away from the booth I’m clinging to for life.

I glance down at her in surprise. She’s stronger than she looks.

I let her lead me all the way down the hall and through the double white doors at the end. There, the only pair of eyes worth living for, hell worth dying for, study me in disgust.

Strong girl leads me into a room with a big, round conference table. All the other structures float to the periphery. The only thing I can really see is the table and Sadie. She turns from where she’s seated and jumps up.

I breathe a little easier. She’s still human and she’s running toward me. I hold out my arms, and she skids to a halt. I shift my weight between both legs and open my arms wider.

“Shorty?”

As she backs away she pinches her nose and her face screws up like she smells shit. I sniff the air and almost wretch.

She does smell shit. My cheeks puff out because now that she smells me, I smell me too. And, real talk, I smell worse than a pile of troll vomit.

“Um, you can stay over there.” She returns to the chair she was just seated in. “You smell like ass.”

“Watch your mouth,” I say, walking over to sit a considerate three chairs away from her. This bitch is comfortable. They still have leather at the end of the world.

“So,” I say, leaning across the table to get a better look at her. “You okay? Hurt? Hungry?”

Her chin juts out. “I’m fine. They wouldn’t have caught me if I didn’t go back for…” She shakes her head, fanning out the massive pile of dark curls on top of her head. “Anyway. I’m doing better than you.” She leans over the table and mirrors me. Her lips press into a thin line. “I can’t believe you let them catch you.”

“I missed you too, kid.”

“Or that you agreed to help these asshats.” She leans farther across the table and pinches my arm.

“Ow!” I rub the spot as she jerks back out of my reach with a smug grin. “I said watch your mouth. You sound like a dirty douche. And try some manners on, jackass.”

She shoves out her lower lip, and her face wrinkles until her eyes disappear in a mess of creases.

“What have I told you about making this face?” I trace a circle in the air in front of her. “Shit ain’t cute.”

She swats at my hand, and I jerk away with a grin. All I get for my charm is another glare.

“Please don’t tell me you’re doing this for me.” She glares at me with double-dare-you eyes.

I square my shoulders and hit her with my stern face. Eyes narrowed with quiet warning. “Don’t worry about all that. How are they treating you?”

She shakes her head. “You’re an idiot.”

Her mother was better with stern face. I sigh. “You used to be so adorable.”

She slaps her hand down on the table and sits up straight. “Are you helping them because of that stupid promise you made to my mom?” She raises her eyebrow, giving me her full on know-it-all pose.

My stomach knots like one of those big ass pretzels we used to eat from the mall. I sit up straighter, gulp down my remorse. By the time I have a speech ready, she’s running at the mouth again.

“God, Pike! Get over it! You can’t help them get this cure! They did this shit! And you haven’t been out there. It’s crap. Floods, darkness, women eating their own fucking babies!” Fear shrink-wraps her eyes. “And you’re helping the people responsible.”

My throat tightens. Something that tastes like bile tickles the back of my throat. I let her get away with using the f word. Once kids see women eating babies, the innocence is gone.

“They were going to turn you into a monster. And... I promised your mom I’d…” I try straightening up. “And I’m not just helping them. I’m helping you. I’m only helping you.”

“My mom won’t care. She’s dead remember? You killed her.”

Ouch.

I miss Sadie being eight. Good year. They don’t have any claws at that age. Puberty hits and they can’t get over anything. Like, people killing their mothers. In my defense, the woman, Hope, was going to kill herself anyway. I tried to keep her alive as long as I could, for Sadie. Not that it helps the guilt. Or Sadie’s anger.

“Well, I do care.” I square my shoulders harder to exert my authority. The muscles scream at me in pain, and I try not to wince. “And for the last time. Watch. Your. Freakin’. Mouth.” I know she’s going to ignore me, but I have to say it, anyway.

Reflex. I also know she’s about to storm drama when she leaps to her feet, hands ready on her hips.

I lean back and cross my arms behind my head. “Make it good. I haven’t watched Jersey Shore since all this crap went down.”

She stamps her foot. “I’m serious!” Her voice gets higher on the whiney ass kid scale. “I don’t want you to do it. I want you to let them die.”

I wince away from her words. “Don’t talk like that.”

She pouts and slumps down into her chair. “Just call me and let better people start over. Because that crap out there isn’t worth saving.”

I have to strain my ears to hear her. Then, her words settle into my skin like toxic fumes. The kid used to have so much lightness in her. She was actually a fucking figure skater. No joke, Olympic potential good. I used to braid ribbons into her hair for flair during competitions. It was our thing.

I even offered to adopt her after I killed her mother, but she threw a tantrum and went to stay with an aunt.

She eventually came around and we were good before all this started.

What the hell has she seen? How much worse has shit gotten since C6 locked me into the Pit? When she meets my eyes, she fills me with nothing.

“Call me,” she whispers.

My jaw tightens. “Never.” It’s the firmest my voice has sounded in my ears for months. “Not while there’s still any other option.”

The nothing in her eyes flashes to hate. It only lasts a second, but that’s all it takes to stir the need in my blood.

“If you don’t do what’s right, I’ll never speak to you again.” She jumps up, storms to the door, and knocks three times.

I swivel in my chair and throw my arms up. “Come on, shorty…”

The door swings open and Sadie says, “I’d like to go to my room, please.” An answering female says something I tune out. When the door shuts again, I sit alone and the silence around me piles on.

Slowly tears my flesh.

Pecks at my insides.

The defeat in Sadie’s eyes flash in my head like a broken movie reel. My chest sinks in. My vision tunnels. Everything I’d been holding onto dissolves, and I can’t imagine Sadie’s laugh.

The grind of her skates on the ice distorts in my memory and stabs my eardrums. A low roar starts whining in my ears.

The sounds drops me to the carpet. I curl up under the table and cover my ears. The whine gets louder. Invisible nails stab my skin.

I breathe slowly and try not to die. I’d like to laugh, but my muscles tighten like a day old corpse. I might be screaming. I can’t hear over the crash of waves in my head. Then, it starts to take my sight.

My reality washes away and brings flashes of all their faces. Mostly women. Different sizes. Varied colors. Some with sad, appealing smiles. It’s my life flashing before my eyes.

And it’s showing me all the people I’ve killed.

Sadie’s mother, dark and delicate in her scrubs, lingers awhile. Then, a jolt of black electricity stills my convulsing body. The vision fizzles out as I descend into the darkness.

When my eyelids flutter open, everything is blurry. I blink, trying to figure out where I am. It’s like trying to see through rushing rain. The more I blink, the clearer things get, and slowly, my other senses return.

A blur of movement sweeps across my gaze. I squint it into focus and make out a stranger. She is rubbing, nah, make that scrubbing some greasy shit onto my chest.

My mouth opens to ask what the hell she’s doing, but my throat closes around the words. Glancing down, I spot a spider web of raised scars on my stomach and chest, which is where this strange female is rubbing the greasy shit.

Souvenirs of Pitch and me playing a game of master and slave. With narrowed eyes, I peer through rising steam and realize I’m in a bathroom. I’m also skin ass naked and suspended in a marble tub.

“Ow,” I mutter, swatting the stranger’s sponge away. I take a whiff. Smells like a witch’s garden.

“Mr. Richards, welcome back.”

My eyes tiredly lift toward a kind, heart-shaped face. She wears a gentle smile. And she’s hot. Too bad I feel like something death shat up.

I sniff again. “What is that?” My voice crackles in my ears. “Eucalyptus?”

She nods, screwing a top onto a white jar. “You know your herbs.”

“Won’t work,” I say, trying to sit up straight.

“I know, this is just to keep you well until you can…” She turns toward a table sitting next to the tub.

I almost smile.
Until I can kill someone.
I can see why she doesn’t feel the need to say it. I bend over my knees as she turns back toward me. She leans over me, with a thin glass in her chocolate hand, and presses it to my lips.

Raising an eyebrow, I sniff. The stench punches through my nostrils and burns my throat. I hack, eyes watering, and pull away. “Hell no.” I massage my eyelids.

“It’s for the pain.”

“No cayenne,” I say leaning back. “I’m good.”

She casts a stern look with her cool, dark eyes. “Drink.” She presses the glass to my lips and I force it down, gagging. Once the glass is empty, she wipes the dribble from the sides of my mouth and nods, satisfied.

As she stands up I lean over and dry heave.

She giggles. “Drama queen.”

I ignore her. She walks behind me in the tub while I try to swallow the rest of the burn. My muscles begin to numb, and I start to feel a little more alive. Not that I’m going to admit it.

There is a squirting noise behind me. I start to turn to see what it is, when this girl digs her fingers into my scalp and jerks me up and down. The scent of patchouli saturates the bathroom.

“Ugh,” I mutter as she scrubs my long, dreaded hair. Brown crap drips down my shoulders and tints the creamy water, turning it the color of dirt and blood. “Damn, girl. Take it easy.”

Without warning, she dumps scalding water over my head. I cough and swipe my hands across my face, trying to get the water out of my eyes.

She walks back around the tub and holds a towel out to me. I blink up at her and snatch it away, then wipe off my face. A half grin settles on her lips.

Now that the pain has subsided a bit, I can appreciate her smooth skin and short, curly hair. I scan her up and down and wish she weren’t in baggy, light blue coveralls so the below the neck goods were easier to make out.

I eye her up and down. “Now that you’ve shampoo-raped my head, can I get your name?”

She smiles and holds out her hand. “Kenya.”

“Kenya.” I toss the towel over my shoulder and grip the sides of the tub to pull myself out. I wobble on my feet and she rushes forward to steady me.

I chuckle. So much for any smooth move. “Thanks, I’m good.”

She lets go and I wrap the towel around my waist and slowly get out of the tub. I run a finger over my scars and snort.

“I look like a roots extra.”

She frowns. “They’ve already starting to heal.”

I nod. She’s right. The scars used to be gaping and blackened with blood. Now they’ve healed into a gentler pink. Won’t last long unless I do my thing soon. With a sigh, I glance around at the sandy brown tiled bathroom with its large vanity mirror and pedal operated sink.

It’s the nicest bathroom I’ve ever been it. Seems kind of wrong, like my situation doesn’t match the scenery.

“Where are we?” I ask as I stumble toward the middle of the room.

“The Fox Estate,” Kenya says. “This is your bathroom, and your room is just through there.” She points to a door to the left. “Your roommates are on the main grounds, they’ll...”

I shake my head. “Where is Sadie?” My arms cross over my chest. “And Oscar? I need to see Oscar.”

“Oscar?” Her lips turn down. Then, a glint sparks in her eyes. “Oh, your bird? He’s fine. I’ll bring him to you tomorrow. You also have time with Sadie scheduled tomorrow. Tonight you must rest for the Presenting.”