“You still owe me five bucks.”Erik cradled thelirai, the mark on his wrist sated with bloodlust but still avid and tender-throbbing at her nearness.“Oh, and…”
“And what?”
“She has possible-dreams.”Erik tried not to sound too satisfied.The amount of potential this woman exuded even before being dipped in the Flame was unsettling; it was maybe how she’d stayed alive, basic precognition moving her one step in front of the underside’s predators before allowing her to cross paths with Sons.But still… “You owe me ten.”
Jake swore, good-naturedly, and fell into rearguard position as his Elder Brother carried theirliraitoward the temple.
Erik told the persistent unease sharpening under his breastbone to settle down.There was no reason to be this jumpy, not when they’d won a round.
Or at least, they’d kept her from being eaten.When she woke up, there would still be hell to pay.
Deconstructing
One moment Livwas doing pretty all right, considering the situation, and even thinking of a wisecrack.Then,boom, synaptic overload, the world clicked off like a giant light switch.
The next thing she knew, she was horizontal instead of vertical, still in jeans and the same black T-shirt but with fresh socks, and alone on a familiar-unfamiliar bed.
Oh Jesus.The thought that she might have had a complete psychotic break and this was an asylum with a particularly liberal attitude toward treatment—especially pharmacological—was super comforting.
Or it would have been, if the several pairs of wet, filthy socks she’d had on yesterday—or whenever it was—weren’t at the foot of the goddamn bed, gravel caught in their outer layers.Her ass hurt, her back ached, and her palms were abraded, but the injuries felt days old instead of fresh.All that she could have explained away, one way or another.
But the socks.
Mud.Twigs.Tiny pebbles.She stared for far too long before realizing both her bladderandher stomach were incredibly unhappy.Fortunately, one problem was way more critical than the other, and after it was attended to in the bathroom’s clean white-tiled glare, her stomach settled with a thump.A healthy dose of cold water to her face felt incredibly helpful; she stopped, hunched and dripping over the gleaming porcelain sink.
It walloped her again, the sheer grinning, slaveringunrealityof what she’d seen.The memory drove a short, strangled sound out of her, and she wandered into the bedroom without bothering to dry her face.Stopped, staring at the bed.
More specifically, at the socks.
If it was a psychological fake-out, it was a damn good one.Touch of genius, really, right up there with the blond guy springing her from the room.
Thump-thump.
Liv whirled, almost toppling in her haste, and froze, staring at the doorway.A few lone droplets kissed her shoulders; her hair was a wild mess.The sound came from the suite’s outer room, but she didn’t quite think her legs were up to carrying her that far.
For one lunatic moment she wondered if they would consider putting a lock onherside of the door.The funny thing was, in this state of mind, she’d absolutely, one hundred percent use it.
Thump-thump.There it was again.Someone knocking.
But you can’t… come… in!The ancient pop song blared inside her head, and she managed to croak, “Okay.”
It was barely a whisper, but there was the faint sound of the door opening.The woozy certainty that this was the beginning of yet another vivid, overwhelming nightmare swamped her hard and fast.The world wavered, an underwater undulation.
“Oh, shit.”The blond guy appeared in the bedroom doorway, and she stared uncomprehendingly at him.“Father?Father!”
“I told you, she’s deconstructing.”The dark-haired guy shouldered past him and bore down on her.
Liv flung up a hand, fingers spread.A hot flush ran through her, scalp to toes, and the dark-haired guy stopped dead, leaning forward as if into a heavy wind.
“You’re in a type of shock,” he said quietly, gaze locked with hers.Oddly, that soothed her.He’d fought those things off last night.Moving in ways no human should be able to, and with a pair of wicked curved knives that were definitely not for chopping onions.Still, he was able to keep the monsters at bay, and that was good enough right now.“It’s all right.It’s normal, and you’re gonna be fine.You just have to adjust.”
Oh, sure.I’ll adjust.To those… those things…
The worst wasn’t suspecting that she was crazy, or that the world held secret, hidden terrors.It wasn’t even seeing one of those terrors with its shape so subtly, appallinglywrong, either.
No, the absolute worst thing was those fucking socks.She could have ignored everything else, if they hadn’t been just sitting there, smug in their sock-ness, in their plain, modest assertion that yes, the terrors existed, and yes, Liv Stellack had been dreaming about them her entire life.
“Acute psychological distress.”The lean, iron-haired older man in his long black coat appeared behind the blond.With all three of them in here the room was awfully small, and she wanted to back up, get away; there wasn’t enough air.“Jake, go into the hall.”
