Page 96 of Property of Necro
“We’ll figure somethin’ out.” We have to. I’m just as torn up about this as Coffin. But I, unlike him, have to keep my head screwed on straight. With Necro’s situation, Coffin spiraling along with Mama, I’m the backbone, holding us above water. I don’t have the luxury of losing my shit.
“How?” Mama asks around another mouthful of quiche as he watches Sola like a sad puppy.
“We’ll kill Necro,” Coffin announces, and I roll my eyes.
“We’re not killin’ our brother.” That’s his dumbest idea yet.
Shrugging his shoulders up to his ears, Coffin huffs. “People die all the time at random. We can add him to the list. I’ll build the coffin. Mama can take over as prez.” He glances over to Mama for validation, but he’s not listening. He’s too busy staring at Sola, eating more quiche.
I snap my fingers in front of Coffin’s face to set him straight. “Listen, asshole. You’re not buildin’ him a coffin. He’s been through far worse than all of us combined. Cut him some slack. He didn’t do this to hurt us. He’s not like that.” As much as I miss our girl and I’m pissed at Necro for doin’ what he did, I understand it. We all do. Our pasts are damn near cake walks compared to his.
“Rot’s right,” Mama chimes in, finallybacking me up.
“I know I’m right.”
Tipping his head toward the ceiling, Mr. Dramatic whines, “I don’t feel anything anymore.”
“Your erection would say otherwise,” I point out, staring right at his pronounced bulge.
“I don’t mean down there.” Coffin slaps the front of his pants and doesn’t even wince. “I mean in here and here.” He points to his heart and then to his head. “It’s a dark, empty void.”
“It’s always been a dark, empty void,” I remind him. Not to be a dick, but because it’s true. Had he taken my advice in the last decade and gone to therapy, or read a book, and worked through his years of pent-up issues, he’d know how to cope. Now I’m stuck dealing with a grouchy, murderous man-child who refuses to take anything to calm his ass down.
“I know. Until it wasn’t,” he groans.
Sighing, I clasp Coffin on the shoulder and squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Just be patient. And no more sloppy kills.”
Cursing under his breath as if he despises the idea, he ultimately relents and nods once, his shoulders slumping.
We’re exhausted. This has taken a toll I never anticipated. The ripple effect has caused the brothers who live down the street to stay away. The few who live in the church with us, like Creature, have distanced themselves since Coffin murdered Worm at dinner.
Don’t get me wrong, I figured it’d happen sooner or later.
Worm signed on to be a prospect, knowing that if you don’t patch in, you die. If you leave, you die.
Coffin slit his throat.
He wasn’t even angry at the time.
He took one look at Worm’s hand and the fingers he lost from touching Sola and ended him.
It was quick. Messy. But quick.
Can’t say I’ll miss the kid all that much.
Coffin built him a coffin, and we buried him in the yard. Not the same area we bury the whores. That’s Coffin’s thing.
Gathering around the computer, we watch Sola finish her ice cream and chat with a kid's dad. Coffin growls, and I’m ready to stab the fucker in the eye when the guy touches her arm with his slimy fingers. She doesn’t notice him flirting, and her smiles never reach her eyes. Sola’s polite, and when she leaves, I force the camera to follow her as far as we can go until she turns the corner down the street, and her gorgeous mop of red curls disappear and take my heart along with her.
I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, but I’ll figure out how to fix this.
Or die trying.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
The darkness consumes.Heavy on the shoulders. Tight on the chest.
