Page 31 of Outlaw Witch

I snort and shake my head. I’m still stung from how he threw me under the bus back there, forcing me to meet Fabian without warning.

Luckily, Zeph punches Roscoe on the arm, so I don’t have to answer.

“Right, well, you’ve seen the place now. I think we’re done here,” Zeph says. “I’ll show you out.”

I shoot a look at Roscoe, who looks kind of like a kicked puppy right now. Shaking my head, I give him a wave and then head on after Zeph, who hasn’t hung around to see if I’m following. Impatient fucker.

He doesn’t stop until he’s outside the elevator, stabbing at the button like it’s offended him. Once it opens, he glares at me until I speed up to join him. Once we’re enclosed in the tiny metal box, he continues to glare at me, arms folded across his stupidly broad chest.

It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since we met in that alleyway and my brain and my body don’t seem to be reacting too well to that. My brain would quite like to never have to see his grouchy face again.

... other parts of my body, however. Well, they’re thirsty bitches that keep my eyes locked on the way his biceps barely seem contained within his t-shirt.

“I want to show you something too,” he growls.

I sigh internally. This is turning out to be a long morning, full of pit stops. My bed is getting further and further out of reach.

The elevator goes right the way down to the second floor before stopping, and I have a surge of frustration.

I’m so close to getting out of here, but still so far.

“I need you to understand that Fabian’s our family. We’d do just about anything to look out for him, for each other,” Zeph growls.

We step out of the elevator into yet another corridor. Down here, the hallways are stark white and there’s the faint smell of lemon cleaner and antiseptic in the air.

“Now, I don’t know you, but I reckon you care about your people like we care about Fabian. You’ve met him now and I can assure you he’s a good guy. I wanted to show you how he got sick, to see if you can still ignore us after that.”

The corridor is long and brightly lit and that antiseptic smell grows stronger the further we walk. It looks and smells kind of like a hospital.

I cock my head to one side. “What is this place?”

“Medical wing,” Zeph grunts.

“You need an entire wing for your in-house medical issues?”

He shrugs his big shoulders as we continue along the corridor, past rooms with single beds and crisp white sheets.

“We need patching up a lot. I’m sure it’s not too different for your lot.”

I guess, except we have to spend twelve hours waiting in the local medical center and have to fork over a load of cash for the privilege.

Toward the very end of the corridor, Zeph stops outside a room with a narrow window. He gestures for me to look and I peer inside. In the bed, I see a teenage kid sleeping with a chessboard set up on a small table beside him. His face is pale and sickly, but vaguely familiar.

“This is Sebastian, Fabian’s half-brother. He’s fourteen, and he’s been sick for most of his life.” Zeph sniffs and clears his throat. “As part of his blood magic, Fabian can heal people, you know? He can fix injuries, sometimes can even heal disease.” Zeph scoffs and shakes his head at me. “Shit, of course you know. You can probably do all that shit, too.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, Fab’s spentyearstrying to help his little brother, trying to fix him. But nothing worked. He’s given him a few extra months, maybe an extra year, but—” He shrugs.

I find it hard to get my voice to work, clearing my throat a few times before I can successfully speak. “What happened? How did that lead to Fabian getting a blood curse?” My eyes flick from the kid in the bed to Zeph and back.

Zeph, who’s talking to me more than he has in any of our previous interactions. He’s still giving off a pissed off vibe, but this time it doesn’t seem directed at me.

... at least I don’t think it is.

“That’s Fabian’s story to tell. All you need to know is he wanted to help his brother, and he fucked himself over. That’s the kind of guy you’re stillnot sureabout helping.” His tone is condescending as hell, and I fight the urge to bite his head off.

“I—”

“I’m sure you’ve got your reasons, but I don’t really give a shit what they are.” He shrugs and then gestures toward the corridor. “Let’s go. We’re done here.”

With that, he abruptly leads me back to the elevator and waves me inside. “Head down to the bottom and you should find your way out.”

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