He stared down at her. The tears had stopped but there seemed to be puddles forming along the edges of her eyelids, just waiting for further provocation to spill over.
He was frozen. He wanted to leave. He really did. So why wasn’t his body moving?
His phone rang where it still sat in his hand. He answered without looking. “Yeah?”
“I’m with Bic looking for him now. Everything okay there?” Cutty asked.
“I’ll explain when I see you,” Lars said, not wanting to repeat anything in earshot of Faith.
“Then why did you call?” Cutty asked.
He looked at her sitting there; deep sorrow clung to every line of her form. “It was a mistake.”
“Like last time? Do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Fuck her already. I can’t deal with your head all messed up. Not right now.”
Lars hung up on Cutty, not wanting to hear his shit. His head wasn’t messed up.
He pocketed his phone as he watched her. He wanted to comfort her and he didn’t know the first damn thing about how to do it.
He looked around, trying to figure out a plan. He could handle this. He should probably get her off the floor first. In all the movies he’d seen, they never left them sitting on the floor.
He felt her stiffen as his hand grabbed her wrist but it didn’t matter. He needed to get her up so he could move on to the next part of what he’d seen them do. He tugged her upward and across the room until he got to his desk chair in the office. He sat and then tugged her roughly down onto his lap where he proceeded to wrap both arms around her.
“What are you doing?” She tried to shove off his chest. He wrapped around her firmly, knowing the squirming could lead to an altogether different type of physical comfort. She didn’t seem to be appreciating his efforts but he was confident he was doing it right.
The urge to use some of his old talents swelled. She needed it. It was the only way he knew he could calm her down.
He could feel the misery coming off of her and, for the first time since near forever, he gave into the urges. He let the ability stir within and build until his voice was calm with an eerie quality to it. The power of that voice was addictive. It was a voice he hadn’t used since he’d retired. It was the voice he once used to calm the humans who didn’t want to die. It felt achingly familiar to his tongue, leaving a sweet warm flavor in its wake.
Chapter 20
Lars tucked her in to his body until she felt surrounded by him. She didn’t have the energy to keep fighting. She wasn’t sure exactly what Lars was trying to do but it didn’t matter. All her energy was being sapped by the image of Arthur, dead and mutilated.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said.
“He was my brother, and now he’s dead because he was related to me.” She hated crying. Always had. She resented the unwanted tears that sporadically escaped and drifted down. She ran her sleeve across her face, eliminating the evidence, only to have to do it again and again. Then they were picking up steam and her body started to shudder.
Through her crying she heard Lars whisper strange words that were lyrical in nature and a language she’d never heard. The tension and fright she’d felt constantly over the last two weeks, culminating at this moment, seemed to be easing from her. Her body felt heavier and she relaxed into him, letting her head completely rest in the crook of his neck. She breathed in his clean scent. He was so warm and she felt so cold.
“That’s it, just relax.” His voice was soothing as his hand ran over her hair repeatedly and then trailed down her spine, pulling her in closer to him as it did.
“Are you doing something to me?” The pain was fading, the hurt and worry, as if she’d merely shrugged them off like a bad chill that he was warming. Logic dictated that he must be doing something to her but she couldn’t muster up any alarm. She felt as incapable of worry.
“Nothing bad,” he said, and she could feel his voice vibrate through his chest where her body was pressed against him. Each sweep of his hand down her back lulled her deeper into bliss. She couldn’t remember feeling this content and secure since she’d been a child, and maybe not even then.
“Lars?”
She heard Cutty’s voice yell out to him from the main room.
“Gimme a minute,” Lars replied.
Lars rose, lifting her with him as he stood. She wrapped her arms around his neck as if it were completely natural, like she belonged with him. Faith knew this might appear strange to Cutty but she simply didn’t care. Didn’t feel the need to try and stand, or even worry about where they were heading, as he walked in the other room, carrying her with him.
Cutty looked at her and she nodded. “Hi, Cutty.”
“Hi,” he said, sounding not nearly as cordial as her. “Lars? Why does she look all fucked up?”
“I think I am,” Faith responded. “I think he did something to me.”
“Come upstairs,” was the only answer Lars gave.
They climbed the stairs to Lars’ place and she felt the bed underneath her.
“Rest,” Lars said as he tucked the covers around her.
She nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”
***
Cutty looked over to the bed as he stood beside Lars at the opposite end of the apartment from where Faith was sleeping.
“We won’t wake her. She’ll be out of it for a while,” Lars told him, seeing the concern in his gaze.
Cutty took a few steps away from Lars and then took another one back to him, as if he were torn about something. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did? Tell me this was something else.”
Lars crossed his arms, feet shoulder width apart. “I can’t. This is exactly what you think it is.” And he’d do it again. He had no regrets, or at least not yet. He wouldn’t rule out the possibility that they wouldn’t come slamming back at him.
“That’s fucking creepy.” Cutty looked over at Faith and did a little shudder.
“You didn’t see what she was like,” Lars snapped back.
“If she wasn’t dying, I stand by what I said. It’s. Fucking. Creepy. You said you didn’t do that shit anymore.”
“I don’t. It was a one-time thing.”
Cutty took another couple steps away from Lars, as if he needed to get a better visual on him. His eyes squinted and he shook his head. “She’s got you all twisted, worse than I even realized if you’re doing this crap.” He kept shaking his head as if he still didn’t believe what he was seeing.
“No. She doesn’t. I did what the situation required.” Lars dropped his arms to his side and shrugged off Cutty’s words, even as the first seed of doubt started to plant itself. But he’d had to do it. “I was stuck with her. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Walk out, like you always do when some chick is having a meltdown, and then send me in after?”
Lars walked away from him and went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He offered one to Cutty.
“Beer ain’t cutting it for me. You know that.” Cutty reached into his cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Cutty Sark whiskey, which he was so fond of that it had become his nickname after he quit the agency.
“I didn’t have time. You didn’t see what she was like. She was going to crack.” Or was he the one cracking? He took a long swig of the bitter brew, trying to erase the caramel flavor that using the death voice always left, not because it was unpleasant but because it was too tempting. It was exactly the way he remembered, addictive as ever. The beer seemed to accentuate the taste of the voice and Lars motioned a hand towards the bottle of whiskey. Cutty poured him a glass. Lars took a sip and let it sit on his taste buds, hoping to burn off the other taste.
“I’ve seen some serious messes you’ve left me to clean up. Don’t tell me she was worse than some of those. Don’t give me that bullshit. You haven’t done that kind of mojo since you left the agency. You’ve never said why you stopped doing it but I know there’s a good reason.”