A blush is rare from him, unlike me. And it’s lovely. “We never discussed it.”
“You’re my boyfriend. Okay?”
“Yes.” I get a fast nod for my trouble. “Definitely.”
“Good.”
“Very good,” he returns, and this lovely jerk better not be flirting with me just yet. I’m still way too mad at him.
“What the fuck is with you two?” the new August asks.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” Jon mutters, this being his sole input in the entire mess.
I feel no need to explain it to him, or to this random third August out of nowhere. But I could use a little more information. “Look, can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“Get me up and I’ll explain it,” says the captive.
“You can just shut your mouth,” my August replies.
“And this whole time I thought you wanted me to talk to you,” on-the-floor August quips.
“The time for talking was before you tried to shoot me,” August throws back.
“I’m just doing my job.”
“Which is what?” I yell. I yank him up by the elbows, allowing him to get his knees under himself.
Demonstrating that apparently I’m not that scary a captor, he shuffles over to the mattress, takes a seat, and scooches back until he’s comfortable, like this is a slumber party and we’re deciding which movie to watch. “Your boyfriend’s a killer, did you know?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I know.”
“What?” new August snaps.
“I told him,” says August. “I told him everything. The question is, how the hell do you know that?”
“Why do you think I’m following you? I’ve been trying to catch up. You keep slipping universes, destroying universes. Every time I get a lock on you, the world breaks down, and you’re gone again.”
“Did you ever think of just saying hi?” my August responds.
“I feel like ‘just saying hi’ isn’t August Blackthorne’s strong suit,” I can’t help but put in.
I get a double take from my August, and his exasperated, “I had to make sure you weren’t dangerous before I approached you.”
“And that’s how you get punched in the face,” I return.
“And the stomach,” Assassin August responds on a groan.
Jon makes his way over and sits on the edge of the mattress, studying the three of us. I am thankful for his unprecedented silence while I try to figure this out, but I’m not sure I love the type of interest his unerring gaze suggests he’s taking in all of us.
Trying to keep things moving, I ask the new guy, “Okay, so, you’ve been following my August?”
“YourAugust,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Like it wasn’t bad enough before.” He dips his head and lets out a long sigh. “I’ve been followingyourAugust for years now. If he’s told you the truth, you’ll know he’s the most effective mass murderer in all existence.”
“Fuuuck,” Jon whispers. “Told you he’s a supervillain.”
“Is he very wanted?” I ask Assassin August, and I’m only slightly ashamed at the touch of excitement in my tone.
“He’s not wanted at all,” he replies with a grimace. “I’m the only one looking for him, as far as I know. I’m the only one who’s figured out what he’s doing. And that’s why I’m trying to stop him.”
