She squints her eyes at me, trying to figure out what I mean. I let her, because she’s smart, and I like watching her brain fit things together. “It’s like the overlay here. My world and this world kinda… colliding.”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“But what are these places? The future, the past?”
“Maybe. No one is certain because while we can be pulled through, no one has ever come back.”
“Then why do you think I can go back?”
“Because wherever you’re from, Clara, it’snotthe Omega Outlands. Trust me. That place doesn’t have people. There are no people there. Especially people like you.”
“But—”
I put up a hand to stop her, because she really doesn’t need to know any more about the Outlands. “Ya know, it’s kind of a heavy topic. How about we just get back to talkin’ about fun things like foot massages and smutty underwear?”
She smiles. Then laughs. Then agrees with me. Not directly. But she does turn and crawl up the bed, aiming for the open covers. “You better get dressed, because you’re not coming to bed wet and naked.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Tyse gets upand goes back into the kitchen. He keeps his clothes in there on shelves next to his towels. I can’t see that part of the kitchen from my position on the bed, he’s just out of my line of sight.
So I spend the next minute running everything he just said through my head. Of course, this is not enough time to come to any kind of conclusion about any of it, but it does keep the ideas and words fresh so I can think about what it all means later.
He comes back shirtless and wearing a pair of loose pants. I get a good look at the tattoos when he climbs into bed. Some of them are words, but I don’t have enough time to read them. I do have time to notice, however, that a lot of the tattoos are covering up scars.
He notices me noticing and points to the ceiling. “I’ve been shot with the fuckin’ darts twice. The tattoos are just a way to pretty it all up.”
I look up at the darts that are still lodged in the ceiling from when I tripped and shot his weapon. They are almost all inside the weird painting of the Sparktopia tower, making it look like atarget. I imagine what it might be like to have them sticking out of my body. “Twice?” I look at him. “Why?”
“War. Anyway, we’re back on foot massages. Turn and lie that way”—he points to the foot of the bed—“and put your feet in my lap.”
When I hesitate—because I’m suddenly trying to come up with reasons why this foot massage doesn’t need to happen—he takes my pillow and throws it down at the foot of the bed. “Come on. Do it. I promise, you’ll be thanking me later.”
I don’t see a good way out of this without coming off as childish, so I change position, my head on the pillow at the foot of the bed, and put my feet in his lap. “This is crazy.”
“It’s not crazy. This is spa treatment, tower-ruin Clara Birch.”
I smile, despite how uncomfortable I feel.
But then he takes my foot into his hand and I nearly jump out of my skin, the sensation is so unexpected.
“You’re ticklish?”
“I don’t know.” I’m suddenly out of breath. “I never thought I was.”
“Ya learn somethin’ new every day. Now keep still. You’ll get over it. I’m not trying to tickle ya.”
I close my eyes, wincing when he presses his fingers into the fleshy arch of my foot, doing my best not to squeal. It does feel good, but it’s almost too good. Like I want to scream and laugh at the same time.
“Holy shit.”
“What?”
“Open your eyes, Clara.”
I do, and then sit up, gasping as I look down at myself. My whole body is glowing cyan-blue. And not only that, all the designs are there too. The swirls and symbols. Hundreds of different designs cover every inch of my skin. I look like… well.I look like there’s a story written on me. Except it’s written in a language I don’t read.
“Can I ask you questions now?”
