Page 25 of The Tourist

That deep, painful anger, thatfirm grip on a knife. Was that me?

My throattightened. I sickened myself. Dear God in heaven, was that true? Igave a long, gasping groan. Ricky’s tentative stepsfaltered.

“Calder?” Hisvoice was hoarse. Fear shone in his eyes but he kept moving towardsme. “Let go of the knife. Give it up.”

“No.” Istretched out to him, astonished to see my hands shaking, thepressure from my mental agony like a tightening band around myskull. Why was everything, suddenly, such an effort? “Stay back. Itell you what to do.”

“Notanymore.” Ricky’s gaze slid over my shoulder again. “I can hearvoices. They’re coming down here.”

I frowned. Mylimbs felt feeble. I didn’t want to show weakness in front of him…but, somehow, I couldn’t help myself. “That’s impossible. Just abluff. Just your cowardice, begging for me.”

There was astrange expression in his eyes. “No. No more of that.”

“You can’thave called anyone.”

“The phone ison. It’s been on all the time, even when you threw it on the floor.I dialled the minute I woke up again, and you never managed to turnit off. Someone’s been listening all the time.”

Someone?

I fell on myknees on the hard floor. “You wouldn’t dare.” I could hearfootsteps on the stairs down from the bar. More than one person.Muffled cries. The sound of officialdom. I had to get up and run,but my legs ached too much.

Ricky hitcheda breath as if it pained him. “There were a lot of things I neverdared. But now…”

He walked upto me, near enough that I could grab his ankle, but he just shookme free. My arms were also ridiculously weak, it seemed. What washappening to me? He reached down and lifted the knife from my hand.It didn’t look right against his long pretty fingers; the handleseemed dull against his skin. None of this was how it was supposedto go. None of it was right.

But when Itried again to grab him, he pushed at me, sharply, his suddenstrength catching me unawares. “Ricky! Don’t go. You know you cancome back to me any time.”

He stared down at me, hisexpression bleak. “And you can go to hell.”

The door burst open. I couldhear someone grunting, someone else calling out, “Ricky!”

I looked up atRicky. He didn’t look back at me. His eyes were on the door, on theman pushing through into the room, on the arms reaching to catchhim as his legs faltered. His expression was one of relief… and adesire and pleasure I’d never seen before.

Someone triedto grab my arm but I had enough energy to push them off. I retched,a dry, rasping horror. My mind was in turmoil. The fierce angerwasn’t mine, this time, yet it rushed through me as strongly asbefore. My skin crawled and my belly heaved again.

Who are you? What are you?

“Get him outof here,” someone said. “Scan the kid for toxins. And grab thatknife!”

Deep, moltendarkness swamped me, when I’d expected the open door to bring morelight. Darkness and nausea and a terrible, awful shame. All of it,hidden deep inside me, and always treated with superficial scorn,but still there.

Now released, to swamp me withits retribution and disgust. Of myself.

How did I ever mistake it foranything else?

Then… nothing more.

***

I stoodoutside the bar, holding Ricky close. The police blanket around hisshoulders was thick enough but he was still shivering. The bluelight on the police van spun around slowly, looping its beam acrossus, then the wall of the bar, then the figure of Calder beingbundled inside.

I pulled Ricky closer.

And I thankedwhatever God might have been looking my sorry-arse way that mynavigational skills appeared to have returned successfully. Jumpingback into Dan was like coming home, like putting on a good qualityovercoat that’d been made to fit, like finding rescue and safetyall over again.

Yeah, therewere places I’d jumped that I didn’t want to remember. The pain andanger from Calder still reverberated down my nerves, though theywere pleasantly comforted by Dan’s support. And overwritten by hisastonishingly strong flow of desire and protectiveness towardsRicky.

“I got yourfirst call—well, the one you cut off.”