Kinzer’s thoughts returned to Hayde’s appreciation of Janka’s kindness. “Funny,” he said, “that you, who knows the face of such severe oppression and prejudice, have such a difficult time empathizing with creatures that you consider lower than yourself. I can’t help but wonder if you’re so disgusted by mortals simply because it gives you some peace knowing that you aren’t the lowest form of creation.”
Kinzer expected Hayde to return with a quick, defensive remark, but he was silent, perfectly still. Had he gone to sleep? Surely, given the position he was fixed in, it wouldn’t be that easy for him to doze off.
“I’m not going to fight with you about your mortal-love,” he finally said. His voice was quiet, nearly indiscernible. “My hate is mine to have.”
It was the sort of response he recalled having when Janka had pressed him to consider the plight of mortals. It wasn’t pleasant to think about them as creatures worthy of life. It was easier to consider them rodents of creation, creatures without reason or hope, creatures that should be annihilated for their own sake.
But as much as Kinzer wished to instill the wisdom that he’d come to about mortals, he knew that no amount of lecturing would change the opinion of someone like Hayde.
***
The gas cap clicked against the side of the car. Kinzer shoved the gas nozzle in the tank. He flapped his arms about to release some of the heat from his shirt. A rush of dry, hot air did little to soothe his damp pits. What now felt like unbearable, suffocating heat, would have been little more than a mild inconvenience back in the days where he had his wings and power to sustain such climate… back in the days when he had Janka.
Cars, inches apart, squeezed past each other in the crowded parking lot. A navy compact car skidded as it arched into a space before an available pump.
HONK came from a truck the car had cut off.
Gray smoke spewed from the exhaust as the truck roared, bolted forward, then halted as a rhinoceros-of-a-woman in a button-up flannel shirt wobbled onto the pavement. The shirt curved around rolls of fat that concealed the waist of her jeans.
A girl at her side straggled behind her, her gaze fixed on the pavement, her hands locked behind her back.
Hayde sat in the passenger’s seat, staring forward, seeming not to notice the busy scene. Kinzer wondered if he was plotting his escape… or revenge. Perhaps both. The rhinoceros woman’s rolls bounced by Hayde. He didn’t appear to notice. As the girl behind her passed the hood of the car, her eyes lifted to him. Jerking her head forward, she sped along.
Hayde’s gaze shifted to the pump. He’d clearly noticed the girl’s reaction to his mutated appearance.
Tension stirred in Kinzer’s chest as his eyes fixated on the red gashes around Hayde’s nose.
What did I do? But I had to. It was the only way. He wouldn’t have told me shit.
Still, Hayde hadn’t deserved that kind of torture. No one did.
He would have done the same thing. Doesn’t mean I had to.
The sound of dripping caught Kinzer’s attention.
His eyes met the tank where gas showered into a puddle under the hose.
“Shit.” He jerked the nozzle out of the tank and shook it off before returning it to the pump.
He wiped his gas-drenched hands on his shirt and slipped into the driver’s seat.
His gaze went straight to the dry blood around the edges of Hayde’s nose.
I’m a monster.
He wanted to mention the girl’s reaction. He wanted to see how Hayde was feeling—say something to soothe him. But how could he seem sympathetic when he was the asshole who’d done that to him? No matter how he brought it up, he would surely sound like he was just trying to rub it in.
“You need something?” Hayde asked, his voice sharp through his barely cracked lips.
Kinzer shook his head, started the ignition.
***
Maggie couldn’t sleep that night.
She no longer reveled in her high. She felt weak, depleted.
It was like Jeroda had suddenly released her without any consideration for her body’s new need for those sensations. She’d stayed with him before going to bed, hoping he would relieve her pain, but he hadn’t.
