Page 43 of Antihero
That’s the real nightmare. This dream can play out however it likes. I could make myself stop squeezing the trigger, could run away instead. But I can’t undo the reality.
The walls wobble. That’s new.
Everyone is gone, the light is gone. Crennick is burning, this building too. Cassandra is looking up, her face gaunt, eyes huge, collarbones stark over the top of her shirt. Not the sister I knew.Don’t make me do it.I don’t know who I’m begging. Her. The dream. Myself.
But I’ve got to do it. I’m squeezing the trigger, about to destroy myself for the millionth time.
I wake up with a start, a dull pain fading in my calf. A beat later, I remember where I am, when I am. Paige. I fell asleep with her in my arms, our bodies fitted together, curled around each other. Peaceful, warm, safe.
But now she’s turning, thrashing, murmuring in a voice I don’t know. So high, so frightened. I turn and see her in the light cast by the moonlight sifting through my window. Her head flung aside, her thick dark-gold hair dark across her sweaty brow. I lean over her, and weigh against her to still her thrashing, cupping her cheek with my hand. I speak her name.
Her eyes pop open, the whites large and stark as the fear of her own nightmare, the one that interrupted my own, releases its hold. Then she sees me, and all fear fades. I don’t know when the last time I looked into someone’s eyes and saw them take comfort in the sight of me was. Even Eleanor had been afraid of me.
Now that I’ve experienced this feeling, I don’t know what to do with it. Only that I don’t want to let it go.
Paige’s hand is a fist in the sleeve of my shirt, her breathing still too rapid, eyes glinting in the light. Then her hand slides to the nape of my neck and she pulls my mouth down to hers.
Clothes we’d worn more for the novelty of sharing a bed are shed. For the first time, as I slide inside her, her leg hitched over my hip as we meet on our sides, there’s no upper hand on either side. Here, now, we’re equal.
The past, and its nightmares, are chased far, far away. At least for tonight.
***
I stay in bed longer than usual, longer than I’ve done in months. Paige’s hair tickles my nose, my arm cramps and is on the way to going numb. All the while her naked body, pressed back against mine, taunts me. But I stay anyway, as the sunlight filters in, and my stomach grumbles. Eventually, it’s the need for the bathroom that drags me away.
When I come back out, wearing loose track pants, she’s stretching with a languorous moan. The blanket slid down to her waist, her breasts draw my eye before I turn away and switch on the kettle.
“Mm,” she sighs, sitting, still not bothering to cover up. “Well, I sleptfantastically.”
“Maybe I should keep you here,” I say idly, pouring instant coffee into two mugs.
Paige scoffs, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. I was right about her eye. It’s fine. Harry had a weak arm, and besides a mottling below her cheekbone, and that scratch just higher, she’s relatively unmarred. It's a good things he's already deadthough, or I'd go break his legs. “You’re only saying that either for sex or to stop my pastime.”
“You mean to stop your murdering.”
She stands and saunters over, nipples hard in the slight morning chill. She takes a seat at the desk next to the kitchenette, drawing her knees up as she looks up at me with lovely, innocent eyes.
“Anyone I know?” I try.
She scoffs as though I’m dumb for asking, sauntering to where she hung her coat last night. I watch her pull a thick wad of cash from the large pocket, plus a handful of gold rings. I frown. “Are those Harry’s?” I ask.
“Mm-hm,” she hums brightly as she sits at the desk again. “I also took Frank’s watch, and Wanda’s heirlooms…”
Wanda must be the woman she killed in the street before I arrived, the matron. “That’s risky,” I point out, before she can catalogue everything she’s stolen from her victims.
Paige rolls her eyes and draws her knees up. “I’m not stupid. I don’t use any of it except the cash. The other stuff is just… an insurance policy. If I live long enough to want a cushy retirement.”
“Right.” I guess I can’t criticise. I’ve got my own stash, in the wall behind the bed. All the gifts from Tregam before I left. Though I’ve no idea what I plan to do with it.
“But since you killed Harry, you should have this.”
“Keep it,” I say, meeting her eye. “It’s you he wronged.”
She blinks, seems about to argue, then shrugs, putting the bounty on the desk.
“You know,” I start, focussing back on the kettle and spooning instant coffee into cups. “I’m starting to think locking you up might be the only way I’d guarantee you take a break from your… pastime,” I murmur.
“Are you to turn me in, then?” she asks with a grin, much too alert for someone who just woke up. Her hair is a tangled mess around her head, streaming down her back and around her shoulders.
