Page 38 of God of War

“You look ridiculous. We’re on the run, not going to a county fair.”

Delaney rolls her eyes. She swings a large plastic bag to me, full of clothes, then props her hands on her hips. “I got you some more stuff too. You can thank me later.”

I groan and screw my eyes shut, partly regretting my decision not to abandon her.

“Where’s the rest of my cash?”

There’s a rustling noise. When I open my eyes, Delaney is fishing the folded bills out from the front of her dress and my breath catches in my throat. She hands me the cash. It’s still warm from her skin.

I know it now, more than ever: Delaney Jackson is going to be the death of me.

***

I want to kill the guy at the front desk. I’d also consider dislocating his jaw, just for the way that he’s smirking at Delaney and sucking the meat of his cheek between his teeth. Beside me, Delaney looks uncomfortable. Her shoulders curl in and she tugs at the fabric of her new dress like she’s regretting buying it in the first place — and that makes me go right back to wanting this fucker dead.

“Anything?” I ask, shifting my body so I block Delaney from his line of sight. He taps at the keyboard a few times.

“Just for the night?”

“Undecided.”

The guy leans sideways and leers at Delaney some more. “We also have an hourly rate. If that takes your interest.”

I side-step, once again putting myself between him and Delaney. “The night’s fine,” I reply tersely.

The guy sucks on his teeth, clearly annoyed with me and not intimidated in the slightest. I’m mentally kicking myself for picking such a shithole motel. This guy is obviously used to dealing with lowlifes. He locks eyes with me and seems to realize that he’s not going to get any more chances to perv, because he sighs, slides a plastic keycard through a card reader and slaps it on the desk.

“Twelve. Around the corner. Pool closes at ten. No parties.”

I take the keycard, replacing it with a few extra bills than the room is worth — unspoken payment for both the stay and for not asking for ID. The guy stuffs it all in his pocket anyway.

“Enjoy your stay!”

I motion for Delaney to head outside and she pushes out the door into the parking lot. There’s more cars parked than there are rooms at the one-floor motel, but a glance around sees a pool hall slash dive bar combo across the street with its doors open.

Delaney finishes saying something. I snap to her. “What?”

“I said—” She starts walking down the breezeway, passing motel room doors — the paint on each of them in different stages of flaking off. “I wonder where that guy keeps his mother’s mummified corpse. Hopefully not next to our room.”

I grunt. “I think he’s more of a ‘drill a hole in the wall to watch you shower’ type”.

“Norman Bates did that too,” Delaney replies.

We round the corner and stop, the door to room twelve right there. She hesitates, nibbling on her bottom lip as she looks warily at the door.

“You don’t think…”

I slide the keycard into the lock. It whirs and clunks, un-locking.

“I’ll check for holes,” I sigh.

I shove the backpack and the bag of thrift store clothes at her, along with the second bag of necessities we picked up at the drugstore. Delaney waits outside, the sun throwing her long shadow on the thread-bare green and purple carpet.

I make quick work of the small and stuffy room, checking air vents, light fixtures, and even the shower head for anything even slightly suspicious. When I emerge from the bathroom, she’s inside, clicking the door closed behind her.

“All clear on hole patrol.”

I regret it as soon as I say it. Delaney’s nervous expression cracks into a wide, delighted grin.

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