At first, I can’t tell by the arc of her throw if it’s going to make it. My heart lodges in my throat, a meaty, raw organ choking me out.
Eddie presses the gun to Goldie’s temple screaming, “How could you? I love you.”
The warm obsidian lands in my palm and I unleash.
Eddie whips around as I explode into the house.
A flash of light accompanies the bark of a gun the same time I close on Eddie. And then I make good on my promise and rip his head clear off his body with a window shaking roar. I didn’t even shift.
My eyes open—I’m not sure when I closed them—but I’m looking up at Goldie from where I lay on the ground. She’s on the phone with someone as she hovers over me.
“Hey, hey,” I try to calm her down, though my words come out rough. “Everything’s okay.”
The acrid scent of gunpowder still lingers in the air as I meet Goldie's wide, frightened eyes. “You were shot, Ted,” she says before saying something on the phone that comes in like fuzz to my own ears.
I cover her hand with mine but then realize it’s covered in blood and now I’ve gotten it all over her. Or was her hand already bloody from putting pressure on my chest?
“Yeah, bear Ted can take a hit far better than human Ted. I’ll heal, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay, cream puff.” My words do nothing to erase the panic in her eyes. Though maybe I’ve spoken too soon. I cough, tasting copper bubbling up in my mouth.
“Stop trying to fix things, Tedford. You aren’t healing fast enough and losing a lot of blood. Now I need you to help me get you into the car.” She tries to pull me up but would stand no chance if I was unconscious. I would very much like to close my eyes and rest, but I struggle to my feet, feeling a gush of blood escape the hole in my chest.
“Don’t trip over the head,” Goldie murmurs as she guides me out toward the car.
Chapter35
Hole In The Heart
TED
The humid night air settles on us as we exit the car by the neon sign of the Pumpkin Coach Club. The placard casts an ethereal glow on the darkened street, breathing life into the otherwise bleak surroundings. We limp down the back alley, where pools of yellow light from the overhead lamps collect on the rain-slicked cobblestones.
A drag queen with cool, brown skin greets us, her sky-high blue wig catching hints of the moonlight. It takes a moment for me to recognize this as the same person who visited Goldie the other day, when the wolf and Red were around.
She ushers us in, her heels clicking rhythmically against the tile as we move through the dimly lit corridor, lined with vibrant posters of past shows, until we reach her private dressing room. It’s a space filled with a blend of floral and vanilla scents, a sharp contrast to the scent of hard alcohol and something distinctly in the berry family.
Dame Kiki Eleganza, the Fairy Godmother, approaches me, her hands glowing faintly in the dim room. "This will hurt, but not for long," she warns.
As she places her palms on my gunshot wound, the room blurs out of focus. My body feels as if it's floating between two worlds, and I can't tell if it's from blood loss or the magic coursing through me. The sensation is like cold fire, numbing yet burning at the same time. I want to scream but can barely manage a gasp.
Goldie paces back and forth, clearly unable to remain still. I glimpse her through my clouding vision—her figure distorted like a reflection in turbulent water. She's biting her nails, then pulling at her hair, her movements mirroring the anxiety that seems to engulf her.
Suddenly, my vision snaps back into focus for just a second, and in that moment, I see Goldie's face crumple. It's as if she's teetering on the edge of losing something incredibly precious. Her eyes lock onto mine, a desperate plea for me to hold on. To not leave her alone in a world where her neighbor turned enemy could vanish forever.
But then the blackness encroaches on my vision again, like an ink stain spreading through water. Is Kiki's magic failing?
"Just a bit more," Dame Kiki mutters, her voice tinged with a strain that wasn't there before.
Goldie must have heard it too, because she freezes, her eyes widening. She looks as if she's about to rush over but then hesitates, torn between maintaining her distance and reaching out to touch me. The tension is electric, a stretched wire ready to snap.
Finally, Dame Kiki removes her hands, and like a wave receding, the cold fire inside me wanes. I feel lighter, as if I've been given a second chance at life. Yet my limbs still feel heavy, my head a foggy mess. I'm still teetering on the edge of consciousness.
"You'll be okay," Dame Kiki says, not to me, but to Goldie. "He's stable now. He just needs rest."
Goldie lets out a shaky breath, slumping into a plastic chair as if the strings holding her upright have been cut. Her eyes meet mine again, and I see relief flooding in to chase away the fear. It’s like a spell has been broken, but the emotional toll is clearly written in her eyes.
I lay on Kiki’s chaise lounge, a deep maroon that contrasts vividly against the chaotic backdrop of a room filled with sequined costumes and a vibrant array of makeup. The woman herself swept out of the room after washing blood off her hands saying she’d be back in ten, after her number.
“How are you feeling, Teddy Bear?” Goldie asks, her fingers twisting a loose strand of hair nervously as she leans forward in her seat. A tan trench coat is the only thing she grabbed to throw over her nightgown when we left her house. I made her stop and slip on some shoes too.
