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“Winning?” He drank almost to the end of his beer in before adding, “They’ve been here for so long, what does it matter if they stay?”
“Oh.” TheOof my mouth slackened as I pondered his theory. “I don’t remember.”
“Harry was an anomaly and ultimately aimed to possess your knife, from what he said. He said quite a lot before I shut him up. If the others can’t touch, can’t be seen...”
What did it matter?
The rumbled stirrings in my mind told me I knew nothing of the consequences.
The Cucitrice had been determined; sure the rightness of her cause justified the wrongs she did...such as stitching others. I still wasn’t sure why, though. This rift hadn’t affected this world much at all, had it? No one else knew about it. Europe hadn’t been sucked into a mysterious chasm. Still...
“You don’t think that it matters that there’s things like Harry and his tentacle-friend out there?” My voice lifted at the end. “You’re kidding me right?”
“Thinking.” He sucked in air past pursed lips. “Them being out there didn’t mean anything until this.” He gestured with his arm, showing me the Cucitrice marks. “And she’s dead.”
“There are more. Stitched people like you.”
Val slid down until he lay flat. The beer bottle was empty. “I’m not a Stitched. I’m only half done.”
Luckily.
A stitched. I remembered... “The Stitched are compelled to kill the creatures, nightmare or dream. The only way to close the Rift is to kill them all. The Stitched die eventually, of self-neglect or in combat.”
“Really?” Val raised a dubious eyebrow. “Cruel end.”
“Really. Jesus, yes, the Cucitricewascruel. She would’ve condemned you to that. A rat on a wheel, doing what you’re told to do until you run down. I remember... Corpses. Men and women forgetting to eat because the frenzy of collecting and killing became too much.”
Maybe it was the beer, but the memory hunting was no longer fun. There was only the heavy realization of who was inside me. My eyes stung as I looked down.
“You’re not her, you know.” It was the softest thing he’d ever said to me.
I looked at him, but there was no grin at my expense, no mocking glint in his eye, just honesty. Open honesty.
“No.” My mouth felt dry.
“Remind yourself when it gets to you.” He took one last swig.
The intimacy was gone before I could swear it had even existed. The fact didn’t comfort me. The tightness crept back into my belly. Wanting to fuck him was one thing...letting down my guard... I still didn’t know if the man next to me was friend or foe.
“Val, why did that Harry-thing tell me you were one of them? It knew you were coming, but didn’t care.”
He didn’t meet my gaze this time, and examined the beer bottle as he twirled it in his hand. “I don’t know.”
And that was exactly why I couldn’t let down my guard, even if he’d killed to save me. Even if he’d kissed me.
Even if his voice had sounded like malt and honey.
“It’s late, and you want to get to the farm early.” He rolled over to put his beer down and switched off the light.
In the darkness, we climbed under the covers—him in his shorts, me with my clothes on. For all it mattered, I could have been naked, my skin prickled with awareness of him, the heat of him seeping into my bones.
I couldn’t have said why my heart started beating harder.
After a minute of staring at the invisible ceiling, I groped on the top of the dresser for the knife, my body easing as I drew it to me.
CHAPTER13
Val
