I was about to be manhandled. It was as physically close to him as I’d been in years.
I shut my mouth and stared at the ceiling, trying not to say anything, trying not to think anything while he half lifted, half slid me into a prone position.
I couldn’t have done it on my own. Not right away, anyway. He didn’t say any more about it. Didn’t mention how weak and wrecked I was.
Just straightened, retrieved the blanket, spread it out over me. I shivered from the pocket of cold air followed by the warmth of the blanket settling around me.
“I’ll put some water on the table,” he said. “If you need the bathroom, try to wait until morning. I don’t think your feet can take the walk, and there’s enough of your blood on my carpet I have to clean up already.”
His voice was fading. Walking away, I thought. Couldn’t see him. My eyes were closed.
“Ter?” I whispered.
“I’m here.” Close. Sitting in the chair again. I thought I smelled tea.
“Thank you,” I said. “I . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” he said. “Whatever you’re apologizing about, I won’t accept it until you can tell me in the morning light, looking me straight in the eye.”
“You are a picky bastard,” I mumbled.
“Yes,” he said, “I am.”
And then darkness and warmth swallowed me whole and dragged me down.
Chapter 16
“Wake up, Shame,” Terric said. “Time for food.”
What the hell was Terric doing in my room? I opened my eyes.
Correction: what the hell was I doing in Terric’s house?
“French toast, sausage,” he continued. “Think you can eat?”
I lifted a hand, rubbed my face. My arm was sore; the side of my neck felt swollen, bruised. And when I breathed in too deep, something in my chest scraped my bones.
So, not the worst I’d ever woken up feeling.
“Food,” I repeated. “My mouth tastes like ass.”
“Spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Be careful on your feet.”
That brought it all back to me. Or at least the clear images. Half of what I remembered was pain, blurry flashes, and a muddle of sensations and sounds.
“So he drugged me,” I said.
Terric had showered. His hair was still a little damp, combed back, and dripping just a bit on the shoulders of his white T-shirt. He also wore jeans and boots, one ankle propped on his other knee. He was drinking tea from what I knew was very expensive china.
He lifted his cup toward the tray of food on the coffee table. French toast, coffee, sausage, and apple butter.
“Not going to feed you. Unless you want me to.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
I bent, groaned as I pulled the tray over to me, setting it across my legs. Didn’t spill a drop.
If Terric was talking, only the walls were listening. I didn’t hear a thing while I consumed every bite, lick, and morsel of breakfast.
I felt like I hadn’t eaten for months. And after I’d plowed through the food, I felt a lot better.
“Did you spike it with . . .” I wiggled my fingers over my empty plate.
“No. You walked for miles last night, Shame. Anyone would be hungry. Also, I am a hell of a cook.”
“Yeah, you are.”
I scraped the last bit of tart and sweet apple butter off the plate with my fork, licked the tines clean, then set the tray back on the table. Noticed the coffee carafe, cream and sugar there.
Refilled my cup. Sat back and took a drink.
“Did you find Dessa?” I asked.
“Not yet. The Hounds are looking.”
“Try the inn.”
“Why?”
“She’s renting a room. Did you tell Clyde about this?”
“Just that Collins contacted you last night and said we have a day or less before more people die.”
I thought that through. “So you didn’t tell him he wanted us to find his Soul Complement? It’s not like you to lie, Terric. That’s my shtick.”
Terric drank his tea with that quiet grace that reminded me of elegant people in old movies. “He could have gone to anyone,” he said. “Why did Eli go to you, Shame?”
“Fuck all if I know.”
“Maybe he still thinks we’re the head of the Authority?” Terric said.
“Everyone knows you were the head of the Authority. But no. He made it clear he doesn’t think the Authority has any power.”
“If I tell Clyde Eli wanted us to find his Soul Complement, Clyde’s going to want that handled through proper channels. What do you suppose that is?”
I rubbed my fingers across my scalp. God, I was filthy. “I don’t know. Call the cops? Start an investigation?”
“We’re already investigating Eli. The police already know he’s a suspect in Joshua’s death. They’re already looking for him. The Authority knows he’s behind Joshua’s death. We’re looking for him.”
“So . . . what? The police would question me, I guess.”
“Detective Stotts would lock you up,” Terric said. “For your own safety. Maybe as bait for Eli, but mostly to keep you safe. Plus, you wouldn’t be out barefoot on the streets destroying swaths of innocent horticulture from one end of Portland to the other.”
I cringed. “I killed plants?”
“Trees, bushes, grass, greenhouses. Took out a neighborhood garden off of Lombard.”
I waited. Waited for him to tell me how many people I’d killed.
“None,” he said over the rim of his cup, guessing correctly what I was thinking.
“There was blood on my mouth. In my mouth.”
“I think a few raccoons and possums met their maker.”
“Are you sure? There were people, a lot of people.” The memory was chaotic, but I knew it wasn’t a dream. “A bar?”
“No missing persons reports, no unusual injury reports at the hospitals. No unknown causes of death. Not bad for being half out of your mind.”
I closed my eyes. Realized my heart had been beating. Hard. With fear. Worry. Terric wouldn’t lie to me. Not about this. Not about the monster inside me.
I sat there for a bit, until my heartbeat quieted.
“So if we’re not telling Clyde that Eli tried to kill me so I would agree to help him, what’s next?” I asked.
“You,” he said, “are going to take a shower because you reek. I have some clothes I think will fit.”
“Jeremy’s clothes?” I asked, my eyes still closed.
“No.” Tight. Didn’t want to talk about it.
So, of course, I did. “Other than thinking I’m a waste of skin, is there some specific reason he hates me? We haven’t met before last night, have we?”
“You haven’t met,” Terric said quietly.
“He seems to know a lot about me.”
A pause. Then, “He thinks he does. I’ve . . . said a few things.”
“Bad things?”
“You make it hard to say good things, Shame.”
“True.”
Silence again.
“You know his family is involved in Blood magic,” I said.
“Used to be involved,” he said. “Blood magic isn’t what it used to be.”
“It’s not nothing,” I said. “With the right spell carved in blood, added to the right drug, you can still get results. People pay big money for those customized highs.”
“You’re telling me he’s a drug dealer.”
“I’m telling you he’s a part of the drug syndicate, Terric. The Black Crane. And the only thing he wants from you is your magic.”
Terric didn’t say anything for a minute.
“Where are you getting your information?” he asked far too calmly.
“I know people.”
“You don’t know him, Shame. He’s not like that.”
“He jumped pretty quickly to accuse me of using you.”