Page 20 of Never Say Die
Song after song, Aiden, Georgia, and Dylan played, and song after song, Shay sang. The gritty, loving energy Thomas could never replicate beamed through Shay. Through the songs he’d written. Through the lyrics Aiden had jotted on pizza boxes and fast-food wrappers. Through the nights they’d spent in garages and dive-bars, playing for people who sat quietly, sipped cheap cocktails, and hardly noticed them. Through Knight’s Blood’s resurgence—their shared resurrection. And now, the crowd sang along, and the mosh pit opened like a hungry mouth, and the audience shook Aiden’s skeleton.
I did this.Sweat dampened his clothes. He watched Shay tilt backward, knuckles bent like claws, screaming through the chorus of Glory.
Shay,he thought,we’re doing this.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Aiden woke to bony fingers jabbing him in the side. He squirmed away, whining.
Shay fit his palm over Aiden’s mouth, effectively muffling a tiredfuck off,and hushed him. “Get up,” he whispered. Pain filled his voice. Aiden blinked. Glassy eyes stared back at him. “Now, please.”
Shadows cloaked the hotel room. Georgia snored faintly, curled under the comforter, and Dylan buried his face in a pillow. Aiden followed Shay around the corner, smacking his toe against the dresser as he went.
“What the hell, Shay? What’s so goddamn important?—”
“I’m bleeding, asshole,” Shay snapped, voice hushed in the chilly bathroom. He lifted a shaky hand away from the bandage on his stomach, revealing a dark, red spot reaching through the white.
Panic flared. Aiden swallowed and knuckled at his eyes, pawing sleep away. Anxiety insisted, like always, that something was dangerously wrong,oh no, Shay’s dying again, shit shit shit,but after a grounding breath, he gently lifted the bandage.
“You must’ve re-opened it,” Aiden said, and gestured to thetoilet. “Sit down. I’ll get the. . . the tape and stuff. Hold on.” He stumbled into the room, grabbed his backpack, and rejoined Shay, tugging the bathroom door shut behind him. “You’re such a baby. Don’t touch it—stop—your hands are filthy.”
Shay worried his lip with one fang. “What if it gets infected?”
“It’s not infected, chill out.”
“Yeah, but whatif?—”
“Shay.Enough.” Aiden knelt, pressing wet toilet paper against the wound. Shay’s breath hitched and his stomach flexed. A fissure split the scabbed skin, probably spurred by Shay’s performance last night. Aiden used disinfectant, taped the gash closed again, and wrapped fresh bandages around his stomach. “It’s healing but take it easy ‘til we get to Vegas. If you keep re-opening it, it’ll never get better.”
“Think I need real stitches?” Shay asked.
“Maybe. If you do, we’ll figure it out. DIY on Youtube, or something. Let’s give it a few days, though. How’s it feel? Better?”
“A little, yeah. I’m starving—not likestarving, but. . .” He closed his eyes. Shook his head, dramatically. “Starving for pancakes,” he blurted. His cheeks pinkened. “Breakfast. Whatever.”
“Yeah, I could go down on some pancakes. You sure you don’t want a fresh virgin or something, though? I bet we could?—”
Shay palmed Aiden’s face and shoved him backward.
They ate at a hole-in-the-wall diner a few blocks away fromthe hotel. As Aiden drizzled syrup over a stack of strawberry pancakes, Shay loudly announced the ten o’clock appointment he’d made with a psychic. Yeah, like, an actual five-stars-on-Yelp psychic. Aiden closed his eyes mid-pour, frozen by sheer lunacy, until Shay reached across the table and tilted the bottle upward.
“Don’t drown your breakfast, too,” Shay mumbled.
Aiden set his teeth. “I’d bet cold card cash this chick is a fraud. How much did you spend on the appointment?”
“Three hundred.”
“Dollars?”
“No, Aiden. I sent her three hundred rats in a box. Yes, you idiot.”
“Scam,” Aiden said, matter-of-factly, and jabbed his fork at Shay. He stuffed soggy pancakes into his mouth and said it again, one cheek bulged. “Scam.”
“Well, you successfully bargained with the devil, so I’ll take my chances.” Shay poked at his scrambled eggs. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything about. . . anything.”
Aiden leaned over his plate, smile thin and sarcastic. “If she’s really psychic, you won’t have to.”
Shay dunked a crispy piece of bacon in the syrup puddled on Aiden’s plate. Irritation tightened his face. “I guess that’s how we’ll know, then.”
