She couldn’t ask Terrible to do that. Not ever. But she couldn’t deny it would be so much easier. For Terrible to stop hating Lex, to stop gritting his teeth and clenching his fists every time Lex’s name came up—which wasn’t often—and to not get mad if she wanted to get something to eat with Lex. To not get mad when she went shopping or whatever with Lex’s sister Blue—Beulah, actually, but she preferred Blue, and in that Chess supposed she didn’t blame her—who had become her friend, weird as that was.
Even weirder was how she was more willing to give up Lex than Blue, if she really thought about it. It was kind of cool having a female friend, even if they didn’t do girlie-type things. No manicures or pink cocktails, and no chatting about sex—at least, not on Chess’s part. Blue was more open, but then Blue was dating some married guy so didn’t have anyone else to talk to about him. But it was … well, it was fun. She couldn’t help it. It was.
Chess didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to dream about it, but she couldn’t help the images that bounced through her head in the few seconds before she managed to shut them down. The four of them hanging out at Lex’s place, drinking beer on her roof, her not feeling guilty and shitty anymore when Lex called or she went somewhere with Blue. Terrible could just smile and give her a kiss and tell her to have fun …
Right, sure. And then they could all go for a frolic in the sparkly diamond rain.
Besides, the thought of Lex and Terrible together all the time—that would never work. Could never work. Even without the whole business rivalry, Terrible hated Lex. Hated Lex because of her, hated Lex because he knew she’d been leaving him after an evening of hanging out—after many evenings of hanging out—and heading over to Lex’s place to spend the night in his bed. She’d betrayed him with Lex, over and over again, and even if she could expect him to put his loyalty to Bump aside she knew he couldn’t possibly ever forget that.
Hell, even if he tried, Lex wouldn’t let him, would he?
Terrible watched her, watched her tight so she felt like she couldn’t escape. She wanted to rest her head against his shoulder, wrap her arms around him, but something told her she should hang back. “No. I don’t want that.”
His eyes searched hers. “Aye?”
“Aye.” She smiled.
He smiled back, a brief flash of a smile across his face before his mouth twisted down again. “He ain’t lyin on havin plans. Two street men dead in the last week, dig. Right onna corners, just left there.”
“Lex killed them?”
“Ain’t can see who else done it. Watchers said dudes pull theyselves up in a car, jump out, stab em up an take off again. Ain’t even dipped them pockets, dig.”
Shit. “So … what are you guys doing?”
“Do what we gotta, aye? Ain’t can have that shit. Wonder on he not sayin on it, but guessing he ain’t with you here.”
“Or he didn’t mention it because he wants you to work with him.”
Terrible shrugged and leaned forward to stub out his smoke. As he did, his glance fell on her arm. “What’s on there?”
“Huh? Oh.” Damn, she’d almost managed to forget about the Darnells. “Remember my case, the people who broke the mirrors? I busted them today. They weren’t very happy about it.”
“They hit you?”
“Yeah. Well, they had a witch there who tried to kill me, then they had a gun, but it was fine. I’m fine, no biggie.”
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “How about you, how was your day?”
She could practically see him trying to decide if it was worth pushing or not; thankfully, he didn’t. Even better, he lifted her arm and kissed the smudgy dark spot forming there, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Hey.” She reached up to trail her fingers down his thick sideburns, unable to keep herself from grinning. “I might have a few more bruises, too.”
His eyebrows rose, his own smile transforming his face the way she loved so much. “Aye? Where?”
“Oh, all over. It’s really bad. There are tons of them.”
He shook his head. “Damn. Thinkin you oughta show me, aye? So’s I can be all certain you ain’t hurt much.”
“I think you’re right.” She grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and lifted it off, shivering harder when his warm hands found her bare skin, reached behind her to unfasten her bra and slip that off, too. “I definitely need your help.”
Love wasn’t one emotion, she didn’t think. It was a combination of a whole bunch of them, and each one had a slightly different formula. Like how if she mixed black powder with an equal amount of blood salt and powdered cat’s skull, she’d have a nice little hex-shield that would bounce curses back to the caster, but the same ingredients in different proportions would induce people to admit the truth if it got on their skin.
Love was like that, and the formulas were always changing. It never sat still and let her get used to it; she didn’t feel as if she ever quite had her balance.
And there was the formula changing again, going from light and warm to tingly and hot. Hot and getting hotter when his mouth took hers, his fingertips on her jaw and then sliding into her hair. His body urged hers back, so she lay on the couch with his warm solid weight above her and her hands already finding bare skin under his shirt, spreading her fingers apart as wide as she could so she could feel more of him at once.
He took his time, inching his palm up her rib cage to barely skim her breast, sliding it down over the curve of her hip and thigh. His teeth caught her tongue and held it for a second, just long enough to send a flash of heat through her entire body. Still he didn’t speed up, but that heat did, racing through her, screaming it was going so fast, and she felt as if she glowed in the ever-darker room as the sun set over Downside.
Then Terrible stopped, and she realized it wasn’t her body screaming—well, her body was screaming, like it always did when he touched her, but the sound she heard wasn’t her body. Wasn’t her voice. It was a voice of terror, a voice of pain and despair, and it sent a shiver that had nothing to do with sex or love or anything even remotely pleasant up her spine.
It was coming from the street outside, and more voices joined it every second.
Chapter Three
You must always be ready.
—Debunking: A Practical Guide, by Elder Morgenstern
Quite a crowd had gathered by the time Chess and Terrible burst through the tall, heavy wooden doors of her building, down the steps and across the patch of scrub grass and pebbles to the street, where dozens of backs obscured her view of whatever was happening.
Too bad they didn’t obscure the screams, those awful wails. Why were people standing there watching if they were so scared—
“Fuck!” Terrible was gone before the word even registered in her head, shoving his way through the crowd. Of course, he could see over them. He knew what was happening.
So whatever it was probably wasn’t a good thing. But then she hadn’t imagined it would be.
And what the hell was she doing, standing there in the back while Terrible did whatever it was he was doing in the center? Fuck that.
People didn’t move as fast for her as they had for him, but the ink on her shoulders, arms, and chest carried enough weight to get them going. Most people thought witches had a lot more power than they actually did, and Chess didn’t do anything to disabuse them of that notion. It had kept her safer in Downside than she had any right to be for almost four years, especially since everyone learned that Downside’s Churchwitch worked for Bump.