Page 41 of Pray for Scars
I think you’re supposed to come with me.
I swallow, feeling like I might be sick again. I had told him before that he was my flinch that night. That I had planned to take my own life, and just like when he flinched against the empty gun pressed against his head when he tried to commit suicide, he had been my flinch.
But he wasn’t my flinch. He was my fuck-up.
“Where is my brother?” I ask again.
Nicolas winks at me. “Not a yes or no, Sid.”
I want to say,Fuck you, but I don’t. Instead, I run my tongue over my teeth and give him a small nod. “Right.” I sigh. “Have you been in contact with him since the hotel burned down?”
“Yes.” Not surprising in the least. I wonder who burned down with it, and I think of Trey, Monica, Chastity. But I don’t ask. Death has been in my life for a long, long time. I blame that on why I can’t feel how I should about it. Maybe the truth is worse, though. It usually always is. Maybe I’m as psychotic as my brother.
“Do you know he came to see me a few nights ago?”
Nicolas arches a brow. “No.”
Maybe they’re not as close as I thought. Maybe Jeremiah likes to keep his deepest sins in the dark.
I take a deep breath. Two questions left. I need to make them count.
“Do you know why the 6 or the Unsaints would be looking for me?”
He stares at me a moment, as if he’s studying me. But he has to know something. He was with my brother before Jeremiah even had the stupid Order of Rain. They were, at least in my eyes, best friends. But maybe they really weren’t. Maybe Nicolas was really just an employee. One that had his boss’s back to the end, to the point that he would lie to me about who really assaulted me that night of Lover’s Death.
“No,” he answers after a long moment.
Do I believe him? I don’t know.
I keep my gaze on his and finally he shrugs. “I know they want you. I don’t know why.”
Makes two of us. Last question. “Was I born in California?”
He frowns, and I already know the answer before he says it. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head, our game over. “Why?”
Because if Ria’s lecture was accurate, that means the Malikovs have been in North Carolina for a long, long time. And neither Jeremiah nor I were born here, so how could they know me? As far as I know, none of my foster parents—sick or sane—were in a secret cult.
Take care of it.
The man with blue eyes, the son with the same ones. The latter of whom was my angel.
I blink the memory away. It isn’t real. None of that is real. Not anymore.
And even if it was…what the fuck could I possibly be to any of them? What they are to me? My worst fucking nightmares?
I close my eyes, leaning back on Nicolas’s couch, and all I see is Lucifer’s face that first night we met. My devil, not bothering with a disguise.
“You tired, Sidney?”
I shoot Nicolas the bird without opening my eyes. “Yeah, Nicky. I’m always fucking tired.”
* * *
When I wakeup to the sounds of a familiar voice in the living room, outside of the guest bedroom Nicolas put me up in, I realize I should have known. I realize I was an idiot, once again, for trusting a boy that doesn’t deserve to be trusted. That no matter how much Nicolas might pretend to care for me, his loyalties lie with Jeremiah Rain, and they always will.
My eyes dart to the blade on the dresser, one Nicolas loaned to me because clearly, he’s a fucking fool. Holding my breath, I throw off the sheets and slide my feet to the floor, distributing my weight evenly on tiptoes, not wanting the floor to creak beneath me. But my brother is still talking, so the sound of his own voice should drown out any sounds from me. He always did like to hear himself talk.
I swipe the knife from the dresser, flick the blade free.
