Page 64 of Scythe & Sparrow
Towel held to my bleeding face, I duck between the ropes and leave the ring. I pick up my bag from the locker and head through the crowd, nodding the occasional thanks to the spectators who pat me on the back and chant my name. But I’m not here for the attention. Or the money.
I’m here to let my monster free. And there’s only one thing that beast truly wants.
To claw its way closer to Rose.
My pulse spikes at the mere thought of seeing her soon. But I try to shake it off as I make my way into the bathroom, commandeering one of the two sinks in the small, run-down space that smells like piss and beer. The steps are mechanical to me. Washhands. Gloves on. Sterilize the wound. I thread the needle then face the mirror. I start the first stitch, leaning close to my reflection as I pierce my own flesh with the curved needle.
“Great fight, Dr. Kane,” a voice says behind me.
The monster inside me claws at my ribs.
“Mr. Cranwell.” I lean back, pulling the thread taut. Our eyes meet in the mirror. Cranwell has a prosthetic eye now to lie over an ocular implant I already know he received in Omaha, the subtle differences nearly indistinguishable from his uninjured eye. Both track me in the reflection. “You’re looking well. How are you feeling?”
“Better than you,” he says as his gaze lands on the gash through my brow.
I let out a quiethmmand refocus on my wound, inserting the needle for the next stitch. The bite of pain is a welcome delicacy for the darkness in me to consume. It keeps my attention where it should be—away from breaking Matthew Cranwell’s neck.
Cranwell leans against the sink next to me, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches my progress. “So. I heard the buttoned-up town doctor was not just mending wounds but making them too. Had to come and see it for myself. It was a good show.”
I nod my thanks.
“Do you think Eric Donovan put up a fight when your little girlfriend killed him?”
My eyes snap to his. Blood roars in my ears. The urge to rip his spine straight through his throat is overwhelming. The only thing that stops me is luck. Another man enters the bathroom, not noticing that we’re staring each other down, me with my barely subdued rage, Cranwell with a smirk that I’m desperate to punch off his fucking ugly face.
“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” I say when the man enters one of the stalls.
Cranwell’s grin stretches. “Oh, right. She’s not your girlfriend, is she? At least, that’s what I heard. Probably a good thing for you. Don’t want to have your perfect image marred by someone like Rose Evans.”
An electric chill climbs through my flesh. “I meant I have no idea about the other thing. You know as much as anybody around town that he’s never been found. Only his vehicle. You have no reason to be asking me anything about this.”
“Of course, of course. Silly me.” His head tilts. His eyes narrow. “Are you sure about that, though? She was in your home for a couple of months, after all. You sure you didn’t see anything … untoward?”
“If this is your attempt at an interrogation, I must say”—I turn my attention back to the mirror, starting the next stitch, swallowing the rage that threatens to tremble my hand—“it’s fucking amateur. And deeply unprofessional. But I guess that makes sense, considering the circumstances of your departure from the Sheriff’s Office.”
Cranwell chuckles, scratching at the graying stubble on his chin. “I ain’t interrogating you, Dr. Kane. I’m just askin’ a simple question. Because from where I sit, it seems strange that she would be in Shiretown just moments before Donovan was last seen. A little thing like Rose Evans? Buying a big ol’ knife? But, hell … What do I know?”
I shoot a cold glare in his direction, then pierce my brow and pull another stitch tight. “Well, Mr. Cranwell, I can confirmIdon’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not sure you doeither. Eric Donovan ismissing. He could be anywhere. He could have fucked off to Mexico for all we know. The kinds of allegations you seem to be dancing around are extremely serious.”
Cranwell’s smile stretches, a predator ready to take down the competition in its domain. There’s a threat behind every wrinkle of weathered flesh, every movement of muscle and bone. “Did you know someone about her size did this to me?” he asks as he gestures to his eye. “A woman. Hit me and stabbed me, right in the eye. For no reason. Came onto my property entirely unprovoked.”
“Sounds to me like you don’t know who did it. And I wonder why someone would want to attack you unprovoked. It’s not like you’ve done that to anyone else … right?” I knot another stitch and wipe the blood from my brow before I start the next. “Oh, I heard Lucy moved to her parents’ place in Minnesota and took the kids with her. I’m so very sorry for the dissolution of your marriage. I wonder what could have precipitated that.”
A flash of rage passes across Cranwell’s face. But he doesn’t risk lashing out, not as a couple guys from the gym enter the bathroom and nod in my direction. “No fuckin’ idea,” he finally says.
“I’m sure. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have something to attend to. Oh, and Mr. Cranwell,” I say, letting my eyes drop down the length of him and back up again, “I’m afraid I can no longer be your doctor. I hope you’ll understand.” With a final, cutting glance, I focus on my reflection, harnessing every last thread of restraint to keep myself from killing the man next to me.
“That’s probably for the best for both of us,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder just as I pierce my skin with the needle. The point scrapes within my flesh. “Have a great night, Dr. Kane.”
I don’t look at him as he leaves the bathroom. I just finish my stitches, a line of ten that curves from my forehead to the swollen flesh of my upper eyelid. When I’m done, I pack my supplies, throw away my gloves and the gauze and the towel that’s stained with slashes of crimson. I toss on a shirt and a hoodie. Splash some water on my face. And then I grip the edges of the sink. I lean closer to the old mirror, the surface marred by scratches and imperfections. I don’t think I recognize the man looking back at me anymore. And maybe I like it.
I leave without another word to anyone, going home and straight into the shower. Despite the pain and the rage and the anxiety swirling in my guts, I still think of Rose.
When I shut my eyes, I can see her face, her lips parted, eyes hooded and locked on me. I can hear her moans. Her phantom touch is there on my back, caressing my shoulders. I grip my erection and imagine sinking into her tight pussy. Her desperate cries roll through my mind, swelling and falling in the same pace as I stroke my cock. Every detail is so clear. The feel of her flesh beneath my palms. The peak of her nipples. The blush in her skin. I can’t help myself. In my fantasy, I lean closer. Closer, and closer, and closer, until I slant my mouth over hers and dissolve into a kiss I’ve imagined more times than I can count. It’s this moment that throws me over the edge. This forbidden, broken rule that has my balls tightening and my cock pulsing and ropes of cum shooting across the tiles. It’s the kiss that has me unraveling, barely able to stand beneath the scalding water, one hand braced against the shower wall. I don’t just want part of her. I wantallof her. I want to consume these boundaries between us until I finally feel whole.
I press my aching forehead to the cool tile and stand in the spray until the water runs cold.
It’s a fitful sleep. I’m too riled up about Cranwell and excited about the trip to get any true rest. When I wake, nothing seems to happen fast enough. The plane seems to travel too slowly through the sky. The line at the rental car counter is too long. I can’t navigate the city streets as deftly as I need to. I try an alternative route of back streets and alleys to avoid the traffic as I make my way to South End, where Lachlan’s apartment is, the one he’s letting Rose stay in now that he’s at Lark’s place. I get stuck in traffic anyway, of course, because Boston rush hour is like that. I’m so worried I’m going to miss her before she heads out to work that I park three blocks away. I only brought a backpack, thank fuck, so I toss it over my shoulders and run the rest of the distance to Rose.
