“I mean, I obviously liked it, and it happened to coincide with my own agenda. I have needs too.” He smirked in a way that made Kinzer even more defensive than before. Those moments when Quintz seemed relaxed, laid-back, only made Kinzer feel more uneasy.
“What is it?” Quintz asked, clearly sensing his suspicion.
“You said yourself that you’re good at deceiving. I guess I’m having a hard time figuring out when you’re being yourself and when you’re putting on a mask to be someone else.”
“Trust me, when it comes to sex, I don’t fake anything,” Quintz replied. “And that was hot as fuck. I needed that, and I have a feeling you did too.”
“Yeah, it was nice to get off with someone.”
It was pleasurable…and Quintz was right. It had revitalized him, brought him back to life, in a way. For the past few months, he had felt hopeless, at times numb, but that sex had made him feel like at least he could hit something…that he wasn’t just screaming inside his own head.
In a way, his old self had returned, and with it came a speck of hope. Even if Quintz was lying to him, he still had a lead. He wasn’t stranded on Earth, grasping at straws. Either Quintz was really someone on his side, or he was connected to the Almighty or Janka in a way Kinzer would be able to use to his own advantage.
“Well, don’t be a stranger when you need some ass,” Quintz said, turning his ass toward him, and Kinzer couldn’t help but slap it. Quintz glanced over his shoulder, eagerness in his eyes, and Kinzer chuckled at his playfulness.
He’d needed that.
Maybe Quintz was right. He had to beat the crap out of someone, to fuck them hard, the way only an immortal could bear, so that he could return to his old self…well, as close as he could get at the moment.
When they finished showering off, Quintz guided Kinzer to another room with a cot in the corner, similar to Quintz’s room. He retrieved some blankets and pillows for Kinzer, as well as some food. He assured him they’d discuss their plans more the following day to give him time to rest.
Kinzer wasn’t thrilled about that, but Quintz refused to discuss things further with him that night. Said he needed to recover some more, which Kinzer couldn’t disagree with.
Quintz offered him some pills to soothe the pain he was in, but Kinzer wasn’t interested in anything that would ease pain—because it kept his mind off where the real pain was, deep within him. At its most acute, it could catch his attention and pull him out of his self-destructive thoughts.
Kinzer tossed and turned the way he usually did back at the warehouse—another sleepless night, he was sure. His eyelids would occasionally feel weighty and seal shut, but it didn’t change how alert he was.
When he opened his eyes once again, he saw something stir in the corner of the room. As it shifted about, Kinzer made out what appeared to be a falling band of silk…like a scarf. As he sat up quickly, something—some figure—seemed to step out of the shadow in the corner.
It wasn’t—no. It couldn’t be.
Maggie stood before him, her dirty-blonde hair messy, stray locks twisting every which way and filled with what looked like bits of dirt. She wore the blue dress Kinzer had seen her in at Veylo’s, but she wasn’t the aged woman she’d become before her untimely end. She looked as young as he’d recalled when they’d first met, but her waist was trim, not bloated from pregnancy.
She moved slowly toward him, her gaze on the floor, her body twisted strangely and her arms outstretched beside her, angled down, her hands clawed. She glanced up, as though she was seeing him for the first time. Although, it was almost like she was looking through him.
A hallucination.
It had to be.
But despite how confident he was that it was all in his head, it was good to see his friend again. “Maggie!”
She snarled, her face twisting up before she raced across the room. She went right for him, grabbed his shoulders, and shoved him back onto the cot. Her knees on either side of his waist, her hands still clawed as she thrashed about wildly, striking him in the face and digging long nails into his cheek.
“Fuck!” he cried out.
She continued attacking, howling like she was in unbearable agony—the sound echoing through his eardrums, making them vibrate.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he called as he tried to grab her arms, but he couldn’t get ahold of her, and each slash she laid into him tore effortlessly through his flesh.
“Maggie, please!” he screamed, and as he did, Maggie’s snarling silenced.
The figure of Maggie was gone, and as he scanned the room, he found he was alone again.
He looked over his body for injuries or scratches—surely they had to be there since the pain he’d experienced when she was on him was unmistakably real. He even got up and inspected his face in the chrome desk that stood where the one in Quintz’s room had been. He expected some indication that the tussle hadn’t just been in his mind, but nothing. Had it all been a trick of the mind?
He’d had hallucinations in his life before, but none like that. None that felt so real. Like he was actually being attacked by the real Maggie.
But she wasn’t real. It was all in my head.
He crawled back to the cot and into the corner, glancing around the room, wondering if he would see the same hallucination coming from somewhere else, making that same horrible howling sound.
Sleep deprivation?Kinzer wondered. Although, he’d had enough sleepless nights that he was certain if that was all it’d been, he would have experienced that by then. Whatever the cause, it was going to be a long night, or day, or whatever the fuck it was—however long until one of these immortals came back for him.
