“I do.”
“I took a photo, yesterday. It’s in that backpack. It’s one of yours that I found here. I’ll put it back when we get out of bed.”
“Mine? Or one of Dad’s?”
“Yours. From there.” He points and I spot the empty frame on my dresser.
“Oh. Of Kail, your namesake.” Yesterday is a whole century ago. “Why? Was it because he was called Kail like you?”
Did the name trigger something in him?
“I don’t know exactly. Yes, he has the same name. I remember very little of my past, who I was before they...made me,” as he says that he gestures toward the ceiling and seems lost. “Who was he, that Kail? I read the inscription, and it sounded as if he died young.”
Whoa. He doesn’t remember who he was originally?
“He did die very young. It was the saddest time. My mother died, then he did, doing something stupid. He jumped off the jetty in a prank and hit his head on a floating log below the waterline.” For a few seconds, saying that takes me back to the day. The screams. The panic as we tried to save him. The sirens as the paramedics came. I was already suffering through sad, gray days because of my mom. I let out a long sigh. “Same school as me, well, Revenant only has one. I think he had a crush on me, but we were only friends.”
“I see. I am sorry I took that photo.”
“It must be difficult if you can’t remember your past. I haven’t looked at the photo for a while. There’s a copy on my phone somewhere.” In among thousands of others. I wave my hand vaguely at the surrounds. “Same as everything here. I should have another shower before we see the McCluskers.”
Ripening daylight shines through the paler material that surrounds the poppies on the bedroom curtains. I turn over onto my elbows and stomach so I can study my strange lover. My pack of aces. My wild card.
Honesty goes both ways.
“I should be honest with you too.” We should talk about everything to do with whatever happened to him before he wasmade into a frankenstruct, though the very idea makes me queasy.
“Go on.” He splays his hand on my shoulder and looks completely untroubled.
I could so get used to his casual touches…and those not-casual orgasmic ones.
“Ummm.I think I said I wanted to find out who murdered my father?”
“Yes. You did. I said I’d help you in exchange for loads of fucking.”Nowhe smiles?
“Truth.” Was it a bargain deal? Probably. I twist and kiss his hand, thinking. “I have already found out who did it. It was Clay Skinner, or men he commanded. He basically confessed and threatened me when I went to see him yesterday at the Revenant Institute.”
“He what?” Kail pushes back and sits up as if he’s on springs.
I lever myself off the bed, lean on my arm. “That’s why those men came for me. He told me to leave Revenant, or else he would do something bad to me that might involve me stopping breathing.” I tweak a corner of my mouth, wait to see what Kail says.
“That’s…can’t you tell the law here? Whoever that is.”
“It’s Sheriff Bob Baxter. I believe he’s in the pocket of the institute.”
“Try? Is it not worth it?”
“I don’t know. I’d rather wait. It might implicate me…us, in the new murders, youummmdid.” I stare at the sheet between us while he strokes the back of my head.
“The men who aimed to kill you.”
He’s assuming those two were sent to do that. In the lightof day, I think that unlikely. They were meant to scare me. Step one in the Clay manifesto.
“Maybe. So, anyway, as I was trying to sa,. I know the answer to that question. What do I really want? I want revenge. I want the man or men involved to suffer how my father did.”
“Right. Right.” A frown line cuts between his eyes, joining all the scars that weave over his face. The one bisecting his nose is the best. I wouldn’t know what to do if he was normal, and somehow the scars make him handsomer. They add a dash of wickedness.
“Revenge is good,” he says, drawing me out of my contemplation of his looks.
