Page 63 of Grave Love
It has nothing to do with food or the air though. I’m seeing the world in a new light, and as much as I enjoy it, I know it’s all going to end soon. Going back to the way it was. It’s distracting me from what’s in front of me. Waiting for me.
Still, my fingers buzz with nervous energy, and I tap my cheek, my fingertips grazing over the healing scab from the woods. Feeling safe like this. Enjoying the world. The promise of it. It’s a trap.
I check the medicine cabinet to keep myself grounded. Mrs. Richmond’s old prescription bottle for Xanax is still empty, but another one stands next to it. A different benzodiazepine. It’s full, like she got it for me, knowing that I’d need it.
Maybe she does care about me.
Or maybe she gets the medication for me so that I’ll shut up.
My phone buzzes. I check the message from Blaze:Meet me at the crematory at midnight.
My heart flutters, like winged insects are humming in my chest. It’s almost the same as his first text, back whenever this—this fucked up, invigorating thing we have—started. Last time, heorderedme to come to the crematory. Now, he wants tomeetme there. It’s a demand, sure, but there’s a sense of equality there too. Like we’re both traveling to the edge of our fate, our worlds colliding in the middle.
I shake my head. I’m reading too much into this. I’m his little corpse. I’m nothing. And you can’t find value in nothing.
The orange prescription bottle drops into the sink, the top popping open. The pills fall into the ceramic, partially disintegrating from the leftover drops of water. I’ve just screwed up my chance to use them later.
“Damn it,” I mutter as I scoop them up. This is exactly where my problem lies, isn’t it? I shouldn’t even belookingfor Mrs. Richmond’s pills right now. This should be over.Blazeneeds to be reminded of our arrangement. Webothdo. We have a goal. It’s the only way we can guarantee that we both get what we want. We can’t lose sight of that.
At eleven, too antsy to do anything else, I head to Last Spring. Inside, a light trails from the crematory, and the thud of a body on metal echoes through the hallway.
I hold my breath. I know it’s Blaze. Still, I never know what to expect with him.
I wait in the doorframe, watching him like he always watches me. He closes the metal door to the retort, the oven’s lock clicking into place.
Is he burning a body?
Of course he’s burning a body. What else would he be doing right now? I taught him how, and he’s using that knowledge. It’s part of our arrangement.
I need to stop forgetting who and what we are to each other.
He stares at the dials, then punches the control panel.
“You’re supposed to preheat,” I remind him.
He gives a slight roll of his shoulders. “We’ve got time.”
The retort hums, vibrating through our silence. There’s a tangible nature to the white noise, like we both know weshouldbe doing so many things,exceptbeing here with each other.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us wants to.
“Is the body in the queue for tomorrow?” I ask. Immediately, I realize how dumb of a question that is. It’s not a client’s loved one. It’s one of Blaze’s kills.
He raises a brow at me, his only answer to my question, and I giggle to myself. Like an idiot. I should report him. It’s what agoodperson would do, but why should I care? Humans have been killing each other since the beginning of time, and if Blaze is a killer who is willing to help me, then why should I judge him for that?
There are so many fucked up things in the world. I’m one of them. Blaze is too. Maybeeveryoneis just as fucked up as we are. Maybe some people are better at hiding it.
With Blaze, I don’t have to hide anymore.
My death. His murder.Sex is an afterthought. Teaching him to cremate bodies is a bonus. We can’t lose sight of that.
“Blaze,” I say quietly, focusing on my flats. Refusing to face him, knowing what it will do to me. “When we first started this, we agreed that—”
“I have something to give you,” he says, cutting me off. “A present.”
My nostrils flare. Was he anticipating what I was going to say next? Did he interrupt me on purpose? Is he avoiding it too?
