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Surviving tonight would give my child the worst mother imaginable. Without emotion, without feeling, how would I love her? She’d grow up with me broken and half mad. That’s no life to offer anyone. The least cruel thing to do is make sure I don’t survive the explosion and take her away from here. That should sound awful, but it doesn’t. She’d end up like me, deranged and running for her life with no sense of safety, security, or self. Her dreams would shatter and die when her heart breaks, when she realizes the world she’s been born into, and the sins she has to repay aren’t her own.
The slide of claws across wood abruptly stops, and silence falls around me. I’m snapped out of my internal debate on whether or not I’m cruel for wanting my child to never experience this nightmare. I’m utterly still, pressing my back to the banister, hidden by the thick post. I don’t dare glance around the balustrade now.
He’s there—I sense him. I tighten my grip on the pair of pliers. I have one shot at this. The way I figure it, I need to be airborne before the bear sees me coming. I have no gun, and if I throw my pliers and miss, I’m screwed. I can’t hesitate, or he’ll drag me back to Vic, half eaten. I’m not going back. I won’t die like that, by Vic, or deranged bear. Tonight, I call the shots, and there’s no way I’m fucking this up. The beast on the staircase won’t know what hit him.
I shift my balance, still squatting close to the carpet, and prepare to spring forward. Everything clicks into slow motion. The pressure on the ball of my foot, my slick palm against the railing for support, and the tightness fading from my muscles as I uncoil. The crouch becomes the perfect assault. When I’m mid-launch a dark figure dressed in black comes into my line of sight. No white bear. This is a person.
Two problems instantly materialize. The first issue, I was counting on that massive bear body being substantial enough to break my momentum and keep me from crashing head first into the wall. The second issue, this guy isn’t big enough to slow me down either. He’s short. And curvy. The figure doesn’t have broad shoulders, and his waist is trim, narrow. His hips flare into tight black pants with dark skin. I’ve got my tool held high, ready to strike when there’s a flash of gold in a perfect circle by the dude’s ear.
My brain put the thoughts into flashcard form, rapidly flipping through big hair, golden eyes, and a foul mouth that expresses displeasure by growling at me. “Awh, shit!”
I slam into Mel with full force. Her knife is thrown from her hand when we collide into the wall. There’s a tangle of hair, limbs, and curses as she comes to a stop. Rolling, I hit the wall and flop backward like a rag doll with my neck hanging over the top step. I stare at the ceiling for a moment and suspect that my femur broke through my skin. My leg isn’t at the best angle, but I can move it. I swing it under me and roll over quickly, making sure it’s her.
Mel is sitting up, feet in front of her, dazed. The wall behind her head is cracked, and white plaster dusts her dark hair. She blinks rapidly and presses her hand to her forehead, swearing softly. When she manages to focus on me, her frown turns into a repressed smile.
Then Mel snorts and cackles, “What the fuck are you doing? You flew through the air like a deranged primate on crack!” She laughs so hard that it makes her wince. She presses two fingers to her temple and then feels around to the back of her head. When she pulls her hand away, she inspects the pads of her fingers for blood. There is a small amount, like she ran her finger over a red magic marker.
I crawl over to her and put my back to the wall. I’m doing a mental inventory to determine what broke, if anything, when I blurt out, “I thought you were Vic’s bear.”
Mel makes a nasally noise, affirming that she’s not a bear and I was wrong. “Who says I sound like a two-ton bear? What kinda statement is that to make?”
I snort. “Yeah, as if screaming about getting hit by a primate is normal. Who says that?”
Mel closes her eyes and holds up a finger. “Goddamn it. Don’t tell me. Don’t say it—”
“You’ve been hanging out with Henry too much.” I touch a finger to my temple because it feels wet and warm. When I pull my hand away, there’s a red streak. I frown at the injury. “We shoulda ‘shipped you two.”
Mel shoots me a nasty look. “Don’t you dare.”
“Melry? Henel?” I snort and grin at her, “Oh, I’ve got it. Melry. Where’s your better half anyway?” I stand and quickly remember exactly where Henry is—next to Sean, lifeless in the pool. Damn it, why did I ask that? He’s dead. I knew that, and I forgot. My mind is so fucked up right now.
Mel gets up next to me with no expression of remorse, other than sounding like Henry. She doesn’t comment on his location or whether or not she knows he’s dead. She wasn’t in the room at the end, so she probably doesn’t know.
The earpiece became dislodged when I collided with the wall. I walk over and pick it up. It got trampled a bit but is still making noise. “I guess this thing is finally back online.”
Mel smirks and stands. “Yeah, should be by now.”
After putting the small electronic back in place, I listen. Most of the reports are static, but I can make out a few words. I swear and let out a rush of air, smearing the blood away from my eyes and wishing I had a way to make it stop dripping. “Head wounds bleed too much.”
“No shit.” Mel approaches, looking me over. “It’ll be okay. A few stitches and you’ll be good as new.”
Not that it matters. I tug at the hem of my dress, pulling at the seam until it rips. With a firm tug, I rip off the bottom of the skirt and tie it around my head to slow the blood. It’s not very absorbent, but it’s enough to keep the wound from pouring into my eyes.
Mel watches me for a second and asks, “And don’t think I didn’t hear you. And it’s not like we shouldn’t talk about him. I mean, you see what you saw. So, tell me truly—you really think he’s my better half?”
Her question shocks me. So she honestly doesn’t know that Henry is dead. I make a garbled response, “I, ahhh—”
She cocks her head and makes an incredulous expression. Pressing her hand to her chest, she repeats, “Really? That sick, twisted man is better than all this?” She gestures to herself, hips to head, and offers an ‘I didn’t think so’ smirk.
I snap my fingers in front of her face. “Focus.” Then I flinch. Who does that? I hate it when someone does that to me.
Mel blinks like I’ve grown an extra face on my ass. “You did not just copy Black’s insolent dog move on me. I swear to God, Avery, if you ever do that to me again I’ll bite your goddamned finger off.”
I look her full on, our eyes meeting and holding. “I hear you.”
Those three words say it all: I understand. I’m sorry. I’m not going to be able to finish this conversation. There is no tomorrow for me.
Mel’s movement is so swift and unexpected that I don’t see it coming. All of a sudden her palm collides with my cheek. The sting sinks in, the pain is far too light, feeling more like a butterfly kiss than a slap.
She narrows her tiger eyes and is all predator as she gets in my face. “No, you don’t hear a goddamned thing. Why do you think I’m here? Avery, you’re not doing this.”
I look her in the eye and feel nothing, not regret, pain, or grief. Numbness consumes me. My brain is firing off different plans, running down different possibilities to get her out of here. She’s going to insist on staying, but she shouldn’t. She has a future. She’ll fight to see the sunrise, but I’m done.
Mel sees the thoughts in my eyes and places her hands on my shoulders. I expect her to shake me and yell, but she doesn’t. “Listen, I don’t know fuck about anything, but I know what I see. A woman with no future who’s ready to wipe out her past.” She starts the walk down the final corridor, the long hallway that leads to the master suite in the middle of the mansion. “But why not try to get out? You gotta at least try, Avery.”
My decision was calculated. I answer plainly, without an ounce of regret. “The only way to make sure it
lights is to be in the room. The balcony window is too high to jump. A fireball will melt the skin off my back, and I’ll break my neck in the fall. Besides, if I’m close enough to light it, then I’m close enough to die. I don’t want to be far enough to live, but close enough to burn.” I glance over at her.
Mel nods slowly. “My wing is done. They’re going to smell it soon. Black headed out, last I saw. Even if she don’t get the main line ready, this motherfucker is going to burn along with everyone in it. You won, Avery.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
