Page 72 of Twisted Sorcery


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I love you – C

Mel looks over my shoulder to read the words. “Which exception?”

“True love,” I say, smiling to myself despite knowing I look like a fool.

“What?” Mel makes a face. “Ew!”

I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing. Despite everything that’s happened, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mel be completely serious.

She leans over the map, pointing at the newly added circle in Hel. “So this is where she is?”

“I guess if that’s what she said.”

Mel claps her hands. “Alright then! Let’s blow some shit up.” She pulls out her phone. “Let me just make a few phonecalls.”

Still dazed, I try to settle back into my body. “Ok.”

She steps out into the hallway, opens the wardrobe and grabs handfuls of Celeste’s expensive coats, pulling them out and throwing them aside thoughtlessly, all the while whistling a familiar melody. She tears out the back wall of the wardrobe, revealing a collection of firearms behind it.

She takes two of the guns out, singing, “Deni and Celeste, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” into her phone, which is pinned between her shoulder and ear.

Pausing, she takes her phone in her hand. “Ibrahim! How fast can you be in Hel?”

***

We’re less than two hours away from sunrise when we leave but despite Mel’s repeated insistence, I refuse to stay at home. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest. I need to make sure that Celeste is alright – though judging from Mel’s mood, we’re saving Celeste only to then die in a road-rage-induced car crash immediately after.

I hang onto the doorhandle while holding my breath as Mel turns through an intersection at neck-breaking speed, ignoring the red light.

“So you really love her, huh?”

I peer over at Mel, trying to read her expression. Somehow, I’m not sure if the sentence is meant to sound like a threat. “Yeah,” I confess, squirming in my seat. It’s one thing to admit it to myself and another to say it out loud.

“Hmm.” Mel tenses her jaw as she overtakes someone through a solid yellow line. “You know she’s been through a lot, right?”

Not sure where this is going, I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Of course, I know that.”

“I say this as her best friend… she’s going to struggle after this.” She raises her middle finger to the passenger window as we pass the other car. “Even if she’s very good at pretending she’s not. Trauma like this takes a long time to heal from. You need to give her time.”

Nervous, I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I can do that.”

“And give yourself time, too.”

I slide down in my seat. “So when did you get board certified?”

She glances over at me suspiciously. “What?”

“As a therapist?”

“Oh, fuck you!” She laughs. “I’m just trying to be a good friend.”

“No, no, I thought it was good. Very professional.”

“I know right?” She accelerates so fast, I have to push my feet into the floor in front of my seat. “I give great advice.”

After getting this out of the way, there’s not much more to talk about and we both sit in tense anticipation for the rest of the drive. I can see in Mel’s face that she’s just as scared about what we might find as me. By the time we pull up one block away from the ugly, brutalist apartment complex we’re looking for, I feel like my nerves might make me throw up.

Just after we get out of the car, Ibrahim appears from a sidestreet, walking with brisk steps. His face is grave. “She’s inside?”

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