The things I would fucking do terrified me until the point I’d gotten lost in my head, fought with myself. Back and forth, back and forth until I’d driven myself mad and felt the vibrations return, the Darkness pulling me under right on time—at three in the morning.
A scream had lodged in my chest to break free from it to the point it pained me. I’d felt it, and I tried to ignore it for as long as possible, held her tighter to stay with her longer. Tried to force it away, but it only grew stronger. It felt like the cruel sun, blazing and stifling and burning my skin. And I hated myself for it.
I had no choice but to slip out from under her and run to it, wishing I could give Fallon more than half a man. If I hadn’t, I feared my Darkness would take her too.
I opened my eyes again, and my gaze transported back to the here and now, the cabin and not the likes of Fallon’s bed. It was mid-day, I believed, and I was sitting on the floor of my cabin, not even on the comfort of my broken-in leather couch. In the dark, on the floor, surrounded by broken beer bottles, glass from a shattered lantern, with a blazing fire breathing on my feet and Fallon’s sweet scent still on my skin. The last thing I remembered was waking up naked against the Blackwell mausoleum in the cemetery with no memory.
I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting here either. I turned my head left, then right. All that surrounded me was evidence of a broken Heathen.
The rapping at my door sounded so far away as I gazed into the fire, believing I’d imagined it. Not caring if I’d imagined it.
Bang! Bang!It came again.
I drank from my bottle.
“Heathen, I know you’re in there!” an agitated voice called out, and I rolled my head back. “You wretched Heathen!”
Whoever it was, wasn’t leaving. I stumbled to my feet, scratched my bare chest, and stumbled to the door, righting my mask.
When the door opened a sliver, Gus Hobb was on the other side, fist raised mid-air to knock again.
“What?” I asked through a tight jaw.
Gus took a step back and fanned the air between us. “Yah smell like death, Heathen.” He peeked inside my cabin, and I stood in front of the small opening from the shadowy depths of my pity, narrowing my eyes. “Now, I’ve been waitin’ outside the shop for thirty minutes. My cah supposed to be done. What yah got goin’ on in theya? Don’t tell me you’ve been workin’ on my cah like that.”
“Shops closed for the day,” I snapped and went to close the door.
Gus’ palm came up and slammed on the door, trying to push it back open. “Now hold on just a minute. I need my cah. Pruitt’s already bustin’ my balls about the window. If I don’t get it fixed, I’ll be closed down for a month. Yah gotta a month’s worth rent? ‘Cause I sure as shit don’t.”
“You’re behind two months, Gus. Two months. Because I prepare for the unexpected, I can afford to close shop whenever I want. If you were smart with your money, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. The car will be ready when it’s ready. Today, the shop is closed. Now, get off my property.”
Gus wedged his foot in the door, preventing me from closing it any further. “I need a cah, Heathen. The only way I’m gettin’ outta this rut is by makin’ deliveries, and yah bettah get yaself togethah, or all of Weeping Hollow will know by sundown that a Hollow Heathen has lost his damn mind.”
For a mere moment, his threat reached into my dark mind and provoked disturbing thoughts. One where I snapped his neck only to watch him fall over my wooden porch with a thud.
One where I strangled him until his face turned colors.
One where I took the bottle in my hand, smashed it against the door frame, slit his throat with the broken, jagged piece.
For a mere moment, these evil thoughts played out. But then I thought of her.
I thought of Fallon, and I reached for a set of keys on the wall beside the door and tossed them at him. “Take the Bronco. And be easy on her.”
“Now that’s what I call customer service,” Gus said through a smile. He turned and limped down my front porch, patting his bad leg like a giddy-up, mumbling through his whistle.
I closed the door and slid the lock in place. Both my palms fell over the door, and I released a heavy breath.
Days had come and gone, though I hadn’t risen from this spot, the safety of my cabin floor. The fire had died, and I was left here in the cold, in the dark, where I belonged. Whilst I hadn’t eaten, I wasn’t hungry. The sickness and hatred filled me in more ways than one, always reminding me that it could take me whenever it wanted. That it had complete control over me.
Every second on this earth wasn’t a gift. For a shadow-blooded Blackwell, it was a punishment. I didn’t deserve to be happy. Therefore, I deserved to live like this. That was what the Darkness had told me.Scream as loud and as passionately as you desire. No one hears you.
And yet, Fallon heard my screams. She didn’t just hear them.
Her soul screamed back.
“Julian.” My name flowed around me, surrounded me. It sounded detached, not really here. “Julian!” It swirled again.
I snapped up my head, looked into golden eyes that seemed so alive, so intense. Phoenix Wildes. And his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at me as if he were studying a corpse, searching for the cause of death.Self-destruction, Nix.
