Page 30 of Consumed
“It’s easy. It won’t even tax my poor battered brain. When it’s your turn you say something honest—something about yourself or something you did—and the other players have to promise not to flip you any serious shit over it. Like, one time my mom admitted that she’d accidentally knocked over a really nice vase my dad had made on commission. He’d been blaming the cat. Or once my dad said that he missed watching TV. We never had one.”
“Us either.” Funny how much his parents had in common with Isaac’s, albeit out of very different motivations. “Did you use this game to get out of trouble when you were a kid?”
Isaac snorted. “All the time. I’m pretty sure that’s why my folks played it—they figured it was better for me to confess to doing stupid shit than to try to hide it.” He bounced a bit in his seat. “So you up for it? I’ll start.”
Although Con was positive this was a bad idea, he nodded. At least it would keep Isaac occupied for a while.
“Cool. Let me think.” Pensive Isaac was as beautiful as all of the other versions, his brows drawn together and his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Okay. Got it. Remember that training session you did a few years ago about using digital cameras?”
“Yeess,” Con answered carefully. He’d thought it would simplify and speed up evidence collection, which it had. But first he’d had to convince the other agents, hesitant to give up old technology, that switching from film was a good idea. He vaguely remembered that Isaac had been negative about the whole thing.
“And remember how you gave us homework? We were supposed to go take photos of certain things, then upload them to computers and send them to you? Well, I cheated.”
“How did you do that?”
“Easy. I asked Des to do it for me. He gets all gung-ho about new gadgets. Now, remember how the game works. You can’t hassle me about it.” Isaac smiled angelically.
Con chuckled. He wasn’t angry. He also wasn’t surprised. “I don’t think that’s the only time you’ve cheated. Like a few months ago—”
“Nope! Only one confession per turn. Now it’s you.”
Oh. Well, Con had never cheated on anything—not that Isaac would likely care if he had. Con had to think about this.
Although the sun wouldn’t set for a few hours, this side of the mountain was already in shadow, and none of the room’s lights were on. Everything inside had a sort of soft mellowness to it, the edges rounded by time and dim light. The bed was rumpled after Isaac’s afternoon nap, a small collection of snack foods perched on the dresser, and Con’s suit coat—dry-cleaning arranged by the hotel—hung on a hook near the door. It was a comfortable setting with mismatched furniture, much like his own home. He wondered whether the hotel owners scoured antique shops for things to put in the rooms.
And that gave him an idea of what to confess.
“You asked me once about my hobbies. I do have one I didn’t mention.”
Isaac leaned toward him slightly. He looked deeply interested. “Yeah?”
“It’s…. You’ll probably think it’s dumb.”
“Dude, I mistook a ghoul for a ghost. I’m in no position to call anyone else dumb.”
Con squirmed a bit. “I like shopping at secondhand stores and antique shops. I’ve furnished my whole house that way.” He braced himself for the reaction.
But there was no mocking in Isaac’s smile. “Really? You should meet my dad. That guy can spend hours poking around dusty shelves. All his clothes are retro. He listens to records on a turntable. Stacks old books in corners. He says there’s no point paying for new when old has way more character. Kinda drives Mom nuts because they don’t have much room in their little place, but I guess she’s used to it by now.”
Honestly, even though Con shouldn’t have needed affirmation for his personal interests, Isaac’s easy acceptance felt good. “I once read an old Bureau report claiming that some objects can be sort of haunted, in a good way. Like, if they were loved, a little of their owner’s spirit rubs off on them. I don’t think this hypothesis has been scientifically tested, but when I’m shopping, now and then I find something that just gives off a good vibe, you know? So I bring it home.”
Isaac nodded solemnly. “And it makes you feel less lonely—like you’re connected to the person who once owned it.”
Oh. Oh,shit. That was exactly right, even though Con had never consciously thought of it that way. His thrift-store finds were his way of creating his own sense of family and making him feel as if he belonged somewhere.
Con swallowed thickly. “Your turn.”
“You’re good at this game.” For a moment, Isaac looked uncharacteristically hesitant. Then his back straightened as if in determination. “All right. I used to think you were sort of a boring square who prowled the Antarctic and tortured me with software.”
Not offended, Con laughed. “I am and I do.”
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope. That’s not you at all. You’re complicated. I heard about that bus full of people you saved.”
“That was a long time ago. Before the Bureau.”
“But that’s still you, man. Life’s thrown all this shit at you, and you’ve still fought like hell to be your authentic self. And Con, the real you is smart and brave and resourceful and stubborn as shit. The real you is pretty damn spectacular, in fact.”
This was a bad game. Bad, bad game. Con was lost in Isaac’s eyes and more terrified than when he’d fought the ghoul. He felt both floaty and wrapped tightly in his damaged body. His eyes stung.
