The lights thin, then brighten, like the room is breathing.Cold drags across my collarbones, a damp fingertip tracing the notch of my throat.The ghosts crowd closer.He’ll destroy you.The air pressure drops, my ears pop.He’s already destroyed plenty of others.Bolo-Hat tips his brim and the flickering steadies.Not him.Them.Watch the shadows, not the man.Their whispers braid and unbraid.A draft snakes under the door; the curtain lifts and falls.I can’t tell the difference between the living who want to hurt me and the living who don’t; between the ghosts who’d like to see me miserable and the one who, for reasons I don’t understand, seems to want me happy.Sometimes it even feels like they’re protecting me, though they so obviously hate Cassius.
Their murmurs keep scraping along my skull.The house joins in: the vent ticksfind the truth; the lamp clicksleave; the window fogsstay; the floorboards sightrust him; the walls knockdoubt him.Protect yourself.
How am I supposed to trust my instincts when the dead and the living pull at me in opposite directions?How am I supposed to trust him, myself, anyone?
My phone rings while I’m still on the floor, back against the wall, heart a little raw.
Cassius.
I wipe my palms on my leggings and answer.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound normal.It doesn’t work.My voice is scratchy, like it knows I’ve been crawling through shadows all day.
“Find what you were looking for?”he says, voice warm and too smooth, like melted dark chocolate laced with sin.
I freeze.“Excuse me?”
He chuckles.“I’m asking if you had fun tapping the baseboards, darling.And I was really rooting for the carpet to survive the day, but…” Another quiet laugh.“Rough morning?”
I pull the phone from my ear and glare at it like it betrayed me.
“Cameras,” I mutter.
“Lots of them,” he confirms, unapologetic.“You looked adorable under the kitchen sink, by the way.”
I drop my head back against the wall and groan.“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No.I don’t.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then softer, “So tell me, Lindy girl.Whatwereyou looking for?”
I close my eyes.“Answers.AboutSpiderweb.About… everything.I know you said you’d be honest, that I can ask questions, I just…” I choose my next words carefully.“It’s like the walls whisper different stories and I can’t tell which one’s true.I need yours.”
He doesn’t respond right away.I imagine him somewhere dark, on a rooftop maybe, or in the back of a car with tinted windows and blood on his sleeves.I hate that I imagine that at all.
“First,” he says finally, “you don’t need to sneak around.If you want to know something, ask.If I’m not home to tell you, call me.If you need something, take it.If that makes you nervous, I’ll get it for you.And if I’m gone, I’ll have one of my brothers bring it.”
I press my hand to my chest to hold those words in place.
“And second,” he continues, firmer now, “there is nothing in our house,nothing, that could ever be used against me.Nothing anyone could ever find that would put you in danger.If shit ever hits the fan, you’ll be clean.Clear.Untouchable.”
“I wasn’t looking for blackmail material,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says.“But you’re in my world now, Lindy girl.And in this world, love is a weakness.I’ll never keep anything around you that someone could use to hurt us.”
I open my mouth to argue, then shut it.Everything is so damn loud.The vent ticks, the light flickers, the cold draft lifting the edge of the curtain.They all crowd the corners, mouthing things I can’t pay attention to right now.I want to say I’m not afraid.But I am.
Not of him.Of what loving him will cost, because the living and the dead both want a say.
“Cassius?”
“Yes, darling.”
“Does it scare you?That I want to know the whole truth?”
“No,” he says.“What scares me is how much I want to keep you from it.”His words sit heavy between us.Every light flickers and then steadies at once; the dead apparently agree.I don’t know what to say.I think maybe he doesn’t either.“I’ll do my best to be home by Monday,” he adds, his voice quieter now.“Don’t tear out any walls while I’m gone, yeah?”
