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I suck in a breath, my arm falling like a stone to my side as my vision clears slowly. Lucy wore that shirt.
I snatch the bundle out of Eustice’s weathered hand and finally see what it is.
Proof. The proof I needed. She’s real.
I shove the towel against my face, breathing deeply, followed by my shirt. And there she is. That faint scent she exuded on her own mixed with mine in the most intoxicating cocktail.
I cackle like the deranged man I am, dragging the shirt down my face slowly, revealing Eustice’s highly concerned features.
“This rate my heart will give out before my mind,” she grumbles.
“Lucy is real.” I gesture to her with the shirt, chucking the towel behind me. “This proves it.”
My gleeful smile falls in one tick.
What if I’m so far gone, I wore the shirt myself, took a shower, and was so exhausted I did take the laundry down?
Eustice steps back, palms up. “If you say she’s real, she’s real, hon. Whoever the hell that is, I’d put my hand on a Bible and swear I’d sold her stuff from Delton’s fundraiser.”
“No, no, no!” I whimper, pressing the shirt to my temple, locking my gaze on hers. I know better than to skip sleep. That always makes everything harder.
“Eustice…I might need—”
“…GHOST!”
The beautiful sound echoes through the whole loft, sending off a rocket in my soul. My knees buckle, and energy explodes through me. That was Lucy. I’d bet the last thread of my sanity on it.
“Who’s doing all that shouting?” Eustice hobble-stomps toward the elevator. “I swear, I’m going to muzzle the lot of ya—hey, watch out! Slow down!”
I shove past her, headed straight for the stairs.
14
LUCY
Mayhem is sick of me on all accounts.
I can’t really keep my shit together, which is resulting in fading away in my mind, which means I’m not put together enough to keep from whimpering at every bump and turn his stupid little sports car takes.
“Sooo, don’t suppose you know who that guy was, eh?” Mayhem asks. “Y’know, like a name. Those are super helpful.”
The closer we get back to the museum, the dizzier I become. Ghost sounded relieved, yes, but what if I imagined it? What if I was—am—so scared of Damian I would find comfort in anything Ghost?
“I’d lie and say we weren’t gonna hurt him, but like—y’know. Pretty sure bits of Chucky boy are still in the trunk. Should probably get that cleaned. It’s gonna be a bitch to explain if I ever get pulled over.”
I don’t have enough money to pay for everything. My stash will almost pay for the clothes I decided to put back on, but it’s not near as much as I’d hoped. Plus, Damian wanted it, so somehow I’m gonna have to double this on sheer willpower alone if I…
“Not that anyone gets pulled over in this city.” Mayhem cracks his palm against the horn, shocking me back into the car just as we whip another sharp turn. The car that had been veering into our lane slams his horn back, continuing to inch over like we aren’t even here.
How long has he been talking? Was he talking to me this whole time?
“It had to be me.” He flips off the other driver, staying just close enough they can’t get over. “Couldn’t have been Murder that found you all beat-up-like, nay nay, it’s Mayhem who has to deal with the feels. Brilliant, really.”
“You didn’t have to come after me,” I say, pushing myself into the car door. “I was planning on coming back with the money.”
“You keep bringing up this fucking money as if Boss isn’t swimming in it.” Mayhem sneers at me out of the corner of his eye like I’m a petulant child. It manages to make me angry and feel small as ever at the same time. “How about we grow up for a minute and admit we wanted attention?”
My lip curls before I can stop it. “Excuse me?”
