AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Barron’s grip on me tightens.
“What are you doing, Anton?” Philip asks, trying to sound reasonable. “We don’t have time for this. Plus, he’s going to wake up with those bruises. Think.”
Anton shakes his head. “Get out of my way, Philip. I shouldn’t have to remind you that I’m your boss.”
Philip looks back and forth between me and Anton, weighing Anton’s rage and my stupidity.
“Hey,” I say, struggling against Barron’s hold. I’m exhausted, and I don’t struggle hard, but that doesn’t stop my mouth. “What are you going to do? Murder me, too? Like those men? Like Lila. Come on, what did she really do? Did she get in your way? Insult you? Not grovel?”
Sometimes I am very stupid. I guess I deserve the punch that Barron holds me in place for. The one that catches me just under my cheekbone and makes my vision go white. I can feel the blow all the way to my teeth.
“Shut up!” Anton shouts.
My mouth floods with the taste of old pennies. My cheeks and tongue feel like they’re made of raw hamburger, and blood dribbles over my lips.
“Enough,” says Philip. “Enough already.”
“I decide when it’s enough,” Anton says.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” I say, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground. “Lesson learned. You can not beat the crap out of me now. I didn’t mean it.”
I look up in time to see Philip light a cigarette and turn away, blowing smoke into the air. And to see Anton bring his fist down on my gut.
I try to twist out of the way, but I’m already too hurt to be fast, and there’s nowhere to go with Barron’s hands clamped on me. Bright pain makes me sag forward, moaning. I’m grateful when I feel him drop my arms so I can slide to the ground and curl my body around itself. I don’t want to move. I want to lie very still until everything stops hurting.
“Kick him,” Anton says. His voice is shaking. “I want to know you’re loyal to me. Do it or this whole thing is called off.”
I force myself to sit up and try to push myself upright. The three of them are looking down at me like I’m something they found on the bottom of their shoes. The word “please” repeats in my mind. “Not in the face,” I say instead.
Barron’s foot knocks me to the ground. It only takes a few more kicks for me to lose consciousness.
13
I DON’T WANT TO MOVE because even breathing hurts my ribs. The bruises hurt more in the morning than they had the night before. Lying on the bed in my old room, I test my memory for blank spots. It reminds me of being a kid, sticking my tongue into my gums after a tooth fell out. But I remember last night very clearly: my brothers standing above me, Barron kicking my stomach over and over. I remember the gun changing, coiling around the man’s wrist. The only thing I don’t remember is how I got to bed, but I think that’s because I blacked out.
“Oh, God,” I say, rubbing my hand over my face, then looking at my hand to make sure it’s still mine. Make sure it hasn’t twisted into some other shape.
I reach my arm down slowly and carefully to touch the wound in my leg where the worked stones are. I feel the hardness of a whole one under my fingers and the outline of shards where two broke. My skin jumps, alight with pain, at the pressure. I wasn’t crazy. A stone cracked last night, under my skin, each time Barron tried to work me.
Barron.
He’s the memory worker. He’s the one who changed Maura’s memories. And mine.
My stomach clenches and I roll gingerly to one side, afraid that I’m going to throw up and then choke on it. Dizzily I see the white cat sitting on a pile of laundry, her eyes slitted.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper. My voice sounds like shards of glass are stuck in my throat.
She stands up, stretching her paws to knead the sweater she was lying on. Her nails sink into the fabric like little needles. Then her back arches.
“Did you see them bring me back here?” I croak.
Her pink tongue swipes her nose.
“Stop screwing with me,” I say.
She hunkers down and then jumps onto the bed, startling me. I groan with fresh pain. “I know what you are,” I say. “I know what I did to you.”
Only you can undo the curse. Of course.
