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I tugged away and whirled on him, a little off balance, my stomach still in knots, the threat of vomiting a real and present danger.
“What’s wrong?” I echoed, glaring at him.
His expression darkened, confirming my worst nightmare.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I spat, lifting myself back to my full height to push my hair away from my face and find somewhere to sit down, not bothering to check if Grey was following me.
Corvus…fuckingCorvusbegan another song. Another one of my favorites and my skin bristled, every tiny hair standing on end.
I fell into a seat in a vacant row at the far right of the floor, up one level.
“AJ, listen—”
“Nope.”
“Just hear me out—”
“If you say another fucking word, I will cut you.”
Mercifully, Grey fell silent, and I leaned over my knees, head clutched between sweaty palms.
My mind raced in a million different directions, trying to come to terms with this new information. It was clear that no one else knew. I doubted even their dear ol’ dad did. I doubted he’d approve of the spotlight, or of his precious second in command doing anything that might take away from gang business.
Those weren’t the important questions, though. The ones I really wondered about, I fought the hardest.
What did this mean?
I’d followed Primal Ethos for years. I’d loved his music for years.
Knowing that there was even a single other soul out there who understood me had gotten me through so much. His music had gotten me through so much.
Corvus’music.
Fuck.
I wanted to hate him, it was easier to hate him, but…
How could I when…
“I’m going to be sick.”
Grey set a palm on my back, and I flinched, making him remove it immediately. “I’ll go get you some water, okay, just…just don’t move.”
As if I even could right now.
“Becca, there you are. Can you sit with her for a sec,” Grey said, and I wished I could disappear into myself as Becca rushed me, kneeling in front of me, right in the firing line if my stomach won the battle with my mind.
I swallowed my bile back as she set her hands on my knees. “Shit girl, you look like a ghost.”
I almost laughed.
“Was it the Jack? We didn’t really eat anything, maybe that was it. Do you feel sick?”
I shook my head and did my best to sit up, letting the chair back hold me up, but then he was in full view again. Up one level, I could see him clear across the concert venue, above the heads bobbing and swaying in an ocean of bodies on the floor.
I’d wondered before if The Bone Man had ever really experienced the things he sang about, but I didn’t have to wonder anymore. Not while he sang about digging shallow graves. About the sound a bullet makes as it left the chamber of a gun. About how blood goes cold after a while, but still stains you forever, and no matter how many times you try to wash it off, it will linger, like an invisible tattoo only you can see.
Until you’re just red. Nothing but red painted over shades of gray as you dig your graves.
