Page 27 of King Among the Dead

Rose shook her head.

“Well. I’ll pull your chair over here. At least sit down a bit.”

When the chair hit the backs of her legs, she did sit; nearly fell, really, her legs were shaking so badly. She tangled one hand in Beck’s hair, and took his hand with the other.

Kay sighed again. “I’m gonna go lie down for a while in the parlor. Come get me if he needs anything. He can have more pain meds at noon.”

“Okay.” A glance at the clock proved that day would break soon, such as it was. She didn’t hear sleet hitting the windows anymore, so that was at least something.

Kay added another log to the fire, and shuffled from the room.

Rose stroked Beck’s long thumb with her own, again and again, until the edge of the bed rushed up to meet her face, and sleep took her.

NINE

She dreamed of blood. Streams of it. Rivers. Lakes. It rushed in a tide across a field of black, swirling around her ankles, lapping up her thighs, warm and velvety when she trailed her fingertips through it. The moon shone overhead, and she lifted her hand to it, watching the way it gleamed like glass on black blood that ran down over her knuckles and the delicate bones of her wrist.

Stars wheeled overhead, bright pinpricks that pulsed and glowed. A clear night – wildly clear. She couldn’t remember seeing the stars outside of photos and videos. Hadn’t known how dazzling they were in person.

The blood tide rose, at her thighs, at her hips. Circling warm around her waist like a hug, a snug embrace.

But, no, itwasan embrace. Two strong arms; when she glanced down, she saw two elegant, long-fingered hands, slick and dark with blood, but gentle against her stomach. Warm breath rushed in her ear, and Beck’s silken voice. “Can you believe how much there is? It’s a marvel: how much blood there is in the human body. There’s nothing quite like watching it all come pouring out.”

The tide rose again, and Beck held her face.

“Stay here with me, Rose. I want to show you something.”

Overhead, a star flickered, and swelled – andflashed. A jagged white bolt appeared in the sky, rent it in two. A tear like a ripping of fabric. Arift.

The stars screamed.

And the blood closed over their heads, and dragged them down into the dark, dark deep.

~*~

She woke with a start. She was too warm, and her neck crackled with sharp pain when she lifted her head, but she registered light – sunlight, though faint, falling in through the open curtains. The fire crackled, and she smelled bacon, and Beck was awake.

Mostly.

“Beck,” she gasped. She had sleep in her eyes, and her mouth was paper-dry, and she ached from sleeping upright in a hard kitchen chair, but none of that mattered because his honey eyes were open, and pinned on her.

She blinked her eyes clear, and noticed that his were glassy – from pain, or meds, or fever, or all three.

She also noticed that she was still holding his hand – though she’d thankfully let go of his hair. (She had a vivid mental image of Kay prying her fingers loose from it while she slept, and couldn’t fault the woman for it.)

She couldn’t resist touching it – touching him – again. Just one hand wasn’t enough, not after she’d thought he would die; after she’d dreamed of a great tide of blood closing over them. “Beck.” She felt his forehead – alarmingly hot and dry – and smoothed his hair back the way she had last night. And like last night, he shifted into the touch; there was no mistaking the way he chased her palm, though weakly. “How are you? Do you need anything? How’s the pain?”

He stared at her a long, unblinking moment, then closed his eyes, and smiled a wide, sweet smile she’d never seen before. It held none of his usual wry amusement, or soft encouragement, nor the feral gleam she’d glimpsed only twice now. This was utterly unselfconscious and…dopey.

“Rose.” His eyes opened again, his pupils over-large. “Sweet Rosie. Always worrying about me.” His voice was low, and dreamy; not slurred, but delivering the words with a blurry indifference. “Isn’t Rosie sweet, Kay?”

“Uh-huh.” Kay appeared, and shoved a plate of bacon and toast under Rose’s nose. It was either take it or let hot bacon slide off onto Beck. “Real sweet.” She was smoking, and still had her hair in curlers. To Rose: “He’s high off his ass. Don’t listen to a single thing he says.”

“Aw. Kay.” He pouted – actuallypouted. “No, I’m not.”

Kay patted his cheek. “Tell that to the morphine, handsome.”

He stuck his tongue out at her as she returned to the stove.

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