Page 46 of Riff

“Morgaine and Nyx,” I said, nodding.

“And Colter, though he always places the basket and runs,” she told me, smiling a little. “I won’t bother you for long. I know everyone here can be a bit overwhelming,” she said. “I just wanted to bring you this,” she said, reaching for one of her deep pockets and pulling out, well, some sort of weapon.

“What is it?” I asked, brows pinched.

“Something I made. For people who don’t know how to use guns yet, but need something,” she told me. “The strap goes around your wrist, so you can’t lose it in a tussle. This button here,” she said, pointing, then pressing it, making it make a buzzing noise, almost like a downed wire, “will create a current about four times stronger than the shit most tasers emit. It will hurt. A lot. Trust me; I tested it on Sway,” she added, smirking. “It also has this feature,” she went on, taking a step back, and swinging the whole weapon hard, making a baton extend out from it. “Just don’t touch it,” she warned, moving it closer to my face, making me see it had little jagged razors along its entire length. “Use your shoe to push it back in,” she said, demonstrating, then tossing it on the bed. “I’m Murphy, by the way,” she said.

But then she was turning and disappearing as suddenly as she’d appeared.

I set her weapon on the nightstand then turned and sat, my head reeling.

They all knew.

I’d been under no delusions about that. Of course Riff would have told them about finding me, and in what condition I was in. Everyone from there would know exactly what happened. Because why else did a man keep a woman chained up in a shed?

The thing that struck me most, though, was that all these women seemed to intrinsically know that what I needed right now were ways to feel safe, to feel empowered. And that weapons were one way to do that.

I wasn’t sure, had it been me in their shoes, that would have ever occurred to me.

I mean, they were women from very different backgrounds. A poison expert, a martial artist, and a weapons designer. But still. It said a lot that they understood what I needed, and gave it so effortlessly.

I’d expected them to, well, pry, to ask me for all the ugly details of what had happened to me. And, sure, I understood that I would need to talk about that to someone to help me process and move past it, but I really loved that they hadn’t poked at what was already a raw wound.

Riff came back half an hour later, loaded down with all of Vernon’s things, setting them around the room, then looking over at me.

“I see you’ve had company.”

“Just Nyx, Morgaine, and Murphy,” I explained.

“They brought gifts?” he asked, eyeing the mug on the nightstand.

“They mostly brought weapons,” I admitted.

He seemed nonplussed by that information, though, as he came over to bring me the other bag of my books. “That sounds about right,” he said, picking up the item Murphy had given me, pressing the button, and nodding.

“It also does this,” I said, extracting it from his grip, then moving a few feet away to swing it open.

“No shit. She’s always got something cool up her sleeve,” he said, reaching toward it.

“Don’t touch it!” I squealed, pulling it backward. “It’s sharp,” I added at his stricken face, like maybe he thought I thought he was going to take it from me, disarm me.

“Yeah?” he asked, squinting at it. “Shit. That looks lethal,” he declared. “Nice. We gotta get you a purse to keep this kind of shit in,” he told me. “I’ll dig out my laptop for you to do some browsing on later,” he offered. “But dinner is ready, so I came to ask what you wanted.”

From below, I could hear a chorus of male laughter. At least three or four people, I had to guess. The sound made the cramp start in my stomach again, and had my throat feeling like it was closing up.

“Can I eat in here?” I asked, voice choked.

“Of course you can,” he said. “I’ll take this down for you, if you want,” he said, inspecting the coffee cup. “I can bring you up a cup of coffee with dessert.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling some of the anxiety sliding away.

Things were just… easier with him nearby.

I didn’t know just how easy, though, until many hours later when the house finally quieted down, but I found myself tossing and turning for the third hour in a row, unable to sleep, it seemed, without him nearby.

The part of myself that had once been so strong and independent bristled at that realization. But the part of me that was traumatized and scared had me climbing out of the bed, grabbing Murphy’s weapon, and slipping the band on my wrist before climbing into Colter’s robe, and making my way to the door.

I glanced into the hallway first, looking, listening. But I heard nothing but the distant sounds of televisions and low music, so I quickly made my way to the stairs, rushing down them almost at a run.

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