Blane only grunts, before forging ahead and beating us into the house.
“What’s his problem?” Armonk mumbles. But I know that he knows. Just like I know a lot of other things right now, because now that it’s quiet the humming’s started up in my head. It knows me, and it reaches out in all directions to tell me things. Tell me that Thorn feels the humming too, and knows something’s terribly off kilter.
Stay safe, stay safe it goes as I limp inside and collapse into the dusty armchair.
“Do you want company?” Armonk stands there uncertainly in the doorframe with his long hair all tangled from running, and his bow and half-empty quiver hanging off one shoulder. His leaf necklace rises and falls with each quick breath, and his face glistens nut brown from the effort of chasing down Stiles.
“I’ll be okay,” I lie. “Just need time alone to catch my breath.”
Armonk hesitates. In the pulse behind my shut eyelids, I sense Thorn creeping downstairs and padding across the room. He climbs up in my lap and hugs me. Settles by my side. I know that this hurts Armonk just like I’ve hurt Blane, because Armonk isn’t stupid either. He’s smart and patient and kind. I can’t help if I’m not ready to be close.
As I sink into the comfort of Thorn’s warm, puppy dog presence, I worry that now I have not one, but two men fighting over me. As ugly, pocked and skeletal as I’ve become, and now swollen with injuries, I’m still a hot commodity. None of that has served to barricade me. Jan’s words float into my mind. I mustn’t use my seductive charm to get anything anymore. I need to figure out different ways. Honest ways. Upstairs I hear Blane fighting with Jan.
“What the hell were you thinking, leading the depot guy in here with that pervert?”
“Who cares?” Jan’s says. “You’re sweet on that cult girl. Is that it?”
“That has nothing to do with it, Jan.”
“Really? Then what do you care?”
“You’re a fool letting any stranger in here! Nevada told us to guard this place. I take my job seriously.”
With a silent chant, I drown out their voices: Make it go away, make it all go away.
Which guy would I pick to be closer to: the gentle spirit that is Armonk or the sweat-scented fighter that is Blane? Must I choose one over the other, ever? Can’t we all at least try to be friends?
Thorn rests his head on my shoulder as I sink lower into the cushions and dream of turquoise waves washing over me.
When Nevada returns with Vesper and Bea, Blane blurts out the whole story to her. “Jan’s a fool!” he shouts. “He jeopardized the whole school by letting those strangers in here. If I’d had one of the guns, that trespasser would’ve been blown to hell and back.” Blane’s voice scares me, even though it’s comforting that he protected me. Flattering even. But I can’t help recalling what he told me once about being too good at playing guard dog. I’m afraid that it brings out his vicious side. I’m afraid how that weirdly attracts me. It’s wrong! All wrong, and I have to keep chanting to myself, Take it all away.
I notice a lack of red blood around the bite mark. Or more accurately, the area has a faint greenish tint. Is that what they call gangrene, or is there something else seriously wrong with my blood? It freaks me out so much that I force myself to look away.
Nevada frets over me like a mama bear from that fairy tale, feeding me special tea and oatmeal and giving me a sponge bath with her special sage oil. I’m incredibly grateful to witness this motherly side of her. But I can’t help longing for the comfort of my own dear mother. With the memory of her warm hug and understanding voice, tears run down my cheeks.
“You’ll be better soon, Ruby,” Nevada soothes, misunderstanding the nature of the tears, which she wipes away for me.
I truly can’t go back. Stiles would strangle me like Blane did him only Stiles would finish the job. That night, I toss in bed. The night terrors have returned, full of Stiles—his threatening energy, his leering grin, his scornful eyes. I listen to the rise and fall of Bea’s breathing. And like the early days, I know that I’m waiting for her to fall sleep so I can sniff up the last of the Oblivion Powder. And I thought I was doing so well, weaning myself bit by bit. My cheeks are already hot with the shame of it.
I reach into my belt pack. Across the room, Bea stirs. “You’re having nightmares.”
My hands shoot back to my side. “Yes. What’s to say he won’t be back?”
“You have us. You have Nevada. We’ll hide you.”
I smile in the dark. “Hide me.” Like children’s hide and seek, darting from rock to rock. “That’s a nice thought, Bea.”
“You’re a person worth protecting.”
My eyes blur. “Thanks. I’ll protect you, too. And I’ll try my best to sleep without that stuff.” She knows what I mean. I sense her nodding.