Page 71 of The Sinner and the Scholar
“She ate so much.”
“All that running.”
“She’s also playing a recording of bird sounds.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I don’t let them fall as I say, “Remember when we were in Sydney, and she tried to scare us with all that fake Australia-is-dangerous bullshit?”
“Yeah,” Mercy sighs. I hear the smile in her voice, and something rustles and then thuds like she’s sitting down. “She forced me to carry a Vegemite sandwich in one of those little zip-lock bags and said it’s so the killer koalas think I’m a local and won’t attack. What were they called again?”
“Drop Bears.”
We giggle as the memory strengthens. Drop Bears aren’t even real, just some urban legend the locals tell for a bit of fun. Mercy and I were so naive back then. But it didn’t stop Prue from keeping us frosty—it’s the same thing Alice did when she attacked me in the alley. We torture and test each other in little ways because we want our sisters to remain alert and strong. To survive hell.
“I saw Alice,” I say.
“Oh yeah? How’s that big hunk of arrogant man meat she’s boning?”
“The same. But they’re good. They lent us the jet.” I pause. “A demon attacked us.”
Silence greets me as she takes it in.
“You good?” she finally asks.
“Fine.”
“Wes?”
“He’s…” I glance over at him. His spectacles have fallen off, and his brow is furrowed. He must be having a bad dream because his breathing is elevated, and his eyes move rapidly beneath the lids. That flushed look he had after sex is still there. Looks feverish. I want to go to him, to protect him from his nightmares.
I thought we shared something special, but he’s clearly got other priorities than our hearts.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Mercy says after my stretch of silence.
I sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You banged him yet?”
“Maybe.”
Mercy gasps, but I hear the smile in her voice. “You slut. You totally did. So what’s his dick look like?”
I roll my eyes. “Stop it.”
“Is it like, long and thin or short and thick? Ooh, is it long and thick? Have you hit the jackpot?”
“Jesus, Mercy.”
“Why else did you call me if it’s not to share the details of this magnificent staff you’re supposedly hunting for together?”
I laugh. She’s right. If I wanted someone to mend my heart, I’d have called Tawny. “It’s not that kind of staff, and you know it.”
“Shame.”
“I called because I…” Again, I lose my words as I look at him.
“You’ve caught feelings,” she finishes with a sympathetic tone. “He showed interest in you from the start, and you ran the other way. I know you, missy. But don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. Just look at Alice or Mary before her.”
There it is.
