Page 29 of Sick Bargain

“And what am I?” I ask.

He leans in until his lips brush against the corner of my mouth, water dripping between our faces. “Mine.”

My stomach clenches.

I want to ask why Krypt took my bargain. Why did he willingly risk his one true friendship by betraying Soren to tether himself to me? None of it makes sense, and I’m too raw to hear the answer, so I don’t ask.

After drying off and getting dressed in his clothes again, he leads me out of his bedroom.

Vile House is… exactly how I imagined it would be. Resembling an old live-in psychiatric ward or one of those houses that hosted conversion therapy back in the fifties, it’s eerie and spacious. More ward than home; more gothic than modern. He takes me to the medical room, where he putssomething on my tattoo and covers it in plastic again, and then we walk into a cafeteria-style kitchen.

It smells like breakfast, but is empty, apart from my brother. Soren—Ghost—sits on the top of a cafeteria table, a mug of coffee between his palms, watching the door we just came through. He’s been waiting for us.

“Leave,” he says to Krypt.

“No,” Krypt says right back. He pushes me to sit on the bench seat, then goes to a table at the front to fill plates and get us coffee.

“Remi,” Soren says. Ghost. “You won’t survive this.”

“I don’t plan to.”

He shakes his head at me and moves down to the bench beside me. “Please, Remi. Whatever the fuck you asked him to do, back out of it. I’m handling the curse.”

“So am I,” I tell him, not bothering to call him out on his selfish reasons for wanting to handle our family issue. “And I can’t back out of it. It’s sealed.”

Soren’s eyes sweep over every bit of my exposed skin, and when he finds nothing, he tugs on my sleeves.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss at him, glancing at Krypt. “It’s right here.” I pull down the collar of Krypt’s shirt to show him the tattoo.

My brother looks disappointed in me. He shakes his head and sighs. “Let me guess, you want him to kill you? You thought you’d strike a deal with Vile House and find a way to end your life so it isn’t suicide?”

I widen my eyes and nod.

“He won’t do it,” Soren says. “But you’re going to wish he would.”

Krypt brings me a plate and a mug of coffee, sitting on my other side and glaring at my brother over my head. I take the coffee and drink it so fast my throat burns, but fuck this. They’resupposed to be best friends, and I’m already in enough of my own shit; I don’t need to be in the middle of theirs, too.

I’m still trying to find the mind space to process my two sexual assaults, the loss of my house, the dead girl, the ownership staked on me, and the fact that I got off while he pinned me down against my will.

“Any tea?” I ask.

“Tea!” my brother yells, and a minute later, someone brings me a pot of hot water and a few different tea bags. He’s younger than me, and I recognize him from the shop. I don’t remember his name, but he plays the oboe. Really well, if I remember correctly. He must be one of the lower-ranking ones Krypt mentioned.

“Thank you.”

He nods and disappears again.

“So, what now, Krypt? Gonna rape my brother a bit more? Rough him up until he’s battered and broken?”

“At least he won’t be dead,” Krypt deadpans, eating his pancakes.

There’s no point in defending my decision, so I pick up my fork to eat, unsure when I’ll be able to again, and let them talk around me. I don’t like the shame that engulfs me, knowing that my brother is aware of how weak and pathetic I am. His best friend sexually assaulted me, and here I sit, in his clothing and under his watchful eye.

“It’s none of your fucking business, Ghost. I have a bargain with him, not you. So fuck off about it and worry about your own shit.” Krypt means something else by ‘your own shit,’ and it makes my brother lean back, almost in reluctant submission.

“I’m working on it,” Soren—Ghost—says. Jesus, I really need to get used to the name change. “I need more time.”

Krypt nods. “Ask Facts.”

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