Page 59 of Livewire Witch

Silver

Roscoe’s suggestion turns out to be a good one. His recreations of Claudia, Simpson, and the other vampires we saw in the basement are realistic enough to send a shiver through my spine. Even though it turns out that Dante doesn’t recognize any of them.

Although... I guess that’s a good thing. He’s not been affiliating with these creeps without realizing it.

Not so good is that there are an entire group of vampires that he has no knowledge of. While he’s not someone that shares a lot of himself, I get the impression that Dante likes to be kept informed about what’s happening in the city. And today’s revelation came as quite a shock.

He’s quieter than usual and I feel kind of bad that the only times I ever see him is when I need something from him. It would be nice to just hang out, get to know the mysterious vampire a little better.

That’s not happening today, though. Right now, all I want is to get in bed and hide under a massive pile of covers.

It’s not every day you come within a hair's breadth of death.

I know my life hasn’t exactly been swings and roundabouts. It’s dangerous on a good day. With the sort of jobs I do, the places I’ve had to live, including my time on the street. But today, a man... well, a vampire held my life in his hand and was seconds away from turning it into a nightmare.

I get the feeling I’ve not even begun to deal with unpacking what happened.

Maybe once I’m back at Z’s place, I can shut the door and carefully pick apart the mess of emotions writhing in my gut right now.

I’m not the only one low-key freaking out, either. Zeph’s been even quieter than usual, barely even sniping at Dante since I regained consciousness. And Roscoe has me tucked close to his side, like I might disappear if he’s not touching me.

Even Fabian and Dante seem a little out of sorts. Although I won’t take the credit for their emotional states. Things are a mess right now and it’ll take a little while to get our heads around it all.

“You look tired,” Zeph grumbles to me. “We should go home.”

His words are abrupt, as is the way he strides into the middle of the room and tugs me to my feet. I’m pretty sure he cut someone off mid-sentence, but I kind of stopped paying attention to the conversation going on around me a little while ago. I’ve been in a weird, hazy fog since. I keep trying to distract myself from the memory of Simpson’s hand around my throat. The blood trickling down my neck. The sound of the chains he was planning to use to string me up.

My mind is not a happy place to be right now.

“Right, yes.” Roscoe claps his hands. “We can meet up again in a few days. Right now, though, I think we all need to get home.”

Thank fuck.

Dante seems just as relieved to be seeing the back of us, which sends a brief pang of discomfort through my chest.

I’m emotionally raw and oversensitive. That’s why when Fabian excuses himself and heads off to The Spire to spend time with Seb, my chest gives another painful pang.

It’s not so much that he left. It was more the lack of acknowledgement my way. Like I don’t matter enough to get a nod goodbye.

And the rational part of me knows that to Fabian right now, I’m nobody. I’m some stranger who was in a jam. But it still feels a little like I have a hole in my heart and he’s prodding it without even realizing.

AS SOON AS WE GET BACKto Zeph’s apartment, I turn to him and Roscoe and offer a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m beat. I’m gonna have a lie down.”

Without looking at either of them directly in the face, I spin on my heel and head for my bedroom. As soon as the door is safely closed, I drop back onto the bed with my arm covering my face. I’m still dressed in Dante’s spicy scented t-shirt, along with my jeans and boots. I kick the latter off and then shove my face deep into the pillow, taking a deep breath and trying to steady my racing heart. The pillow still smells faintly of Roscoe and his scent melds with Dante’s, intertwining into something I breathe deeply.

It’s comforting.

Doesn’t stop my hands from shaking. Or make the memory of Simpson sniffing me fade.

Maybe I need another shower. I need to scrub myself clean. Maybe then I might feel less like peeling my skin off.

I’m not alone for long before I become aware of the door opening. I stay where I am, even as a warm body climbs onto the bed and covers me.

“Thought I could leave you alone, but I can’t. Can’t force myself to be separated from you right now,” Roscoe murmurs into my shoulder.

I twist slightly and wrap my arms around his neck, letting myself sink into his embrace. Something about the weight of him on top of me is deeply relaxing, like a living weighted blanket.

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