Page 95 of Aftertaste

“Oh, I understand completely,” he snapped. “You used me. Seduced me. Fucked me to get what you wanted. All these months, you made me think—God, I’m such an idiot!—you had me believing you actually lovedme! And now you claim some shit went down with ghosts and a veil and you’re blaming me for it? And—and Frankie? Who’s dead, by the way, so I’m not exactly sure how he figures. That about sum it up?”

“That’s not fair.” She felt like she was falling. “Something did go down. Isawthem. Idolove you.”

“Bullshit.” He stood up, everything itching inside, that sick sensation like he was about to hurl. “You love not being Hungry. You love yourself. You love that you can hitch a ride to the Afterlife whenever you feel like taking off my pants.”

“No! Konstantin, that isn’t—that might be how it started, but it isn’t how it stayed! I fell for you. It would have been so much easier if I hadn’t.”

“Glad we’re just doing what’s easy now.”

He walked around the station, angry-clearing plates. The glasses of champagne. He needed to move. To keep busy. To not look at her.

Maura steadied herself on the edge of the counter, the steel a block of ice beneath her grip.

“It wasn’t easy. Any of it. I’d give anything to take it back.” It was hard to breathe; she couldn’t get enough air. “The Hunger… it took so much from me—”

Konstantin slapped a wet kitchen towel down, the sound so loud it made her jump.

“Yeah? As much as tasting the Dead for a couple decades? Or thinking you’re insane every time some mystery flavor appeared? And let’s not even talk about my assorted paranoias and trust issues. But hey, you’re the only one who’s ever suffered, right? At least you know what you did to deserve it. My mouth just happened to me.” He snatched the plastic bag of Reese’s and dumped the whole thing into the trash. “You should go, Maura.”

“Please.” Her voice was a sliver. “I need you to believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He scrubbed angrily at the counter, scouring it, his blurred reflection staring back from its surface. “But I can’t see you right now.”

“What about the ghosts?”

“Whataboutthem?” A vein pulsed in his jaw. “I haven’t seen an actual issue yet. So, uh, thanks for the tip; I’ll figure it out when I get the time.”

“You can’t justfigure it out. There’s a hole in the veil! We have to do something.”

“There’s nowe, Maura. And whatIhave to do is focus on my opening.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Just go.”

“Stan.” She stood, wobbly on her heels. “I know you’re mad. So mad you might never forgive me. But this is bigger than us. You can’t open. You can’t bring more ghosts back. Promise me.”

“Wow.” He gave a strangled little laugh. “Right. You wanna take this away, too? Cooking—raising them—it’s the one thing that still has any meaning right now. The only thing that’s real.”

“I’m real!” Her voice cracked. “But you can’t—”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

The 6 thundered past them again, the train flickering the lights in the kitchen, making things look slow, stop-motion. Maura stared out at the platform, tears falling, diamonds in the strobing light. Suddenly, her expression changed.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

She pointed at the train, was racing across the kitchen toward it, rushing the row of windows to press her face against the panes.

“What’re you—”

“These windows,” she asked, breathless, “do they open?”

“I don’t know? I don’t think—”

But she was already jimmying a latch, prying it up, and with a snap it swung open. She held her hand out to him.

“Come on,” she said. “If you don’t believe me, believe your own eyes. I just saw Everleigh on the tracks.”

Kostya didn’t move.

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