Page 70 of Never Say Die
Aiden Moore: i need to make an appointment
That Bitch Ass Psychic: 2 o’clock. Hotel bar.
Aiden Moore: somewhere else
That Bitch Ass Psychic: The mess will be clean by then and I get discount cocktails. Take it or leave it.
Aiden Moore: fine
Staff guided guests away from the courtyard and directed convention-goers to an early-bird panel—Psychic Hotline Self-Starters—happening on the third floor. Chaos snaked through the hotel. People swarmed the check-in counter, demanding refunds and cancellations, while bartenders crafted heavy-handed breakfast cocktails for pajama-clad-patrons. Some people cried. Some laughed, recording shameless, gruesome live-streams for their followers.
Aiden kept his chin lifted and made for the front door, side-stepping an EMT in a blue uniform. Clammy air hit his cheeks. He jutted his chin toward Pru and Knight’s Blood, standing on the sidewalk a few yards away. Georgia shielded herself, grabbing opposing elbows like latches on a cage. Dylan tried to smile, vape pen stuck between his lips, and Shay offered a flighty glance. Other groups stood in tightly packed circles, some with suitcases, others shouting on their phones. Red lights flashed atop a white ambulance parked outside the front door, and sirens blared, growing closer.
“What’d you see?” Georgia asked.
“A dead guy,” Aiden said. “Probably had too much to drink and passed out in the pool.”
“What about the blood? People keep talking about a shit-ton of blood a-and his. . . his bones or something?” Pru asked.
Georgia sucked in a shaky breath. “Blood?”
“I bet he smacked his head. C’mon, don’t think about it. Let’s just get out of here, okay? Didn’t you say there’s a hole-in-the-wall creole place you wanted to try? They do breakfast, right?” He pulled Georgia into a hug. She didn’t unfold her arms, but leaned into him, rolling her forehead against his collarbone. He lifted his brows at Pru. She mouthedsorry.
Georgia nodded. “Yeah, it’s a few blocks away. Walkable, I think.”
“Lead the way,” Aiden said.
They trudged past sleepy shops and shuttered bars, sharingDylan’s vape. Shay fell into step beside Aiden. They slowed, allowing distance to stretch between their bandmates.
“What’d you really see?” Shay asked.
“Back ripped open, spine snapped in half, really,reallybig bitemarks.”
“Well, fuck.”
“I felt it, I think. Last night when I. . . I. . . whatever, you know what I’m talking about. It’s like I was there. Like I felt him drown. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know.” Aiden spoke too quickly, tripping to keep up with his high-speed thoughts. “And I have no idea if she’ll help us, but I texted Kelly. Figured we have a psychic; we might as well use her.”
“How, though? How would you have felt?—”
“I’m too hungover to think about it right now. Like, way,waytoo hungover.” He wanted to close that memory away. Lock it with the others—Ocean Grove trailhead, Thomas, Cit. He took Shay’s hand, linking their fingers. “Let me get through breakfast first. Please.”
Shay heaved an annoyed breath.
“Pretty fuckin’ please,” Aiden said.
“How the hell would Laura, one, come back from the dead, two, get all the way to Louisiana?”
“How’d you come back from the dead and get from Malibu to my apartment?”
“We live in L.A., Aiden. I hopped the turnstile and took the metro. No one, literally, not a single person, batted an eye. I’m pretty sure someone had their pet raccoon on the train, and I’m positive another person took their pants off and sang the national anthem. I was just wet.”
Aiden glared at him from under his lashes. “She’s here,” he said, firmly. “I don’t care how she got here. I care that she’s here, leaving bodies in broad fucking daylight with their bones bent backward.”
Shay lowered his sunglasses, pinning Aiden with an irritated glare, and revealed violet shadows beneath his eyes. Sweat beaded on his temples and his skin chalked, brightened by packed foundation.
“Fucking hell,” Aiden said, and set the back of his hand against Shay’s feverish cheek. “Shay, are you?—”
“Don’t,” Shay hissed, leaning away. “I’m fine.”
