A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga) (33 page)

“Let’s figure this out,” she said. “If you’re in hell, I’ll find you, Will. Somehow.” He arched an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth crawling up his cheek, pushing that familiar dimple into place. Kate let out a snort. “What? You don’t have to believe me, then. But I can’t just leave you there. Unless, unless of course you like it. Do you?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t. There are things about it . . . I can’t explain. It’s just—” he stopped, and sucked in a deep breath, his gaze pensive and drifting to the floor.

“Bad?” she asked.

He brought his eyes up to intersect with hers. A clap of thunder just outside the room shook their protective walls and the flash of lightning that filled the room blinded them for a moment. When her vision cleared, his blue eyes were holding her gaze like he’d found a lifeline.

He frowned. “Bad,” he echoed. It was just a whisper, but it was enough.

***

A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning outside shattered the dark and quiet in her room at home.

Kate sat up in bed, shivering. Her body was drenched in sweat. She was panting for breath as she struggled to grasp what happened before she woke up. Will. He was . . .

Trapped. A prisoner.

In hell?

It was hell that we settled on, wasn
’t it?

She reached for the notepad and pencil that she had started to keep on the desk next to her bed back when the dreams became more frequent. In the dark—which was darker than ever because of the storm outside, even the light from the street lamp up the road was muted like a black cloak had been thrown over it—she scribbled down key words that would jog her memory later, in case she forgot anything.
Hell. Prisoner. Not quite dead. Find him!

That’s what she tried to write. She couldn’t see it. She’d know for sure how it looked in the morning.

She heard a groan and jumped slightly, dropping the pad and pencil. She rolled onto her side and came face to face with a mop of dark hair and a pair of very luscious looking lips: Ty. She could just make out a few details of his face in the meager light from her alarm clock. He was asleep still, thank goodness. She didn’t feel like trying to sort through her dream with him awake. Who knew what he’d want to do.

He
’s in my bed. What’s he doing in my bed?

She slapped her forehead as she remembered: she let him stay over. This time in her bed. With her.

It’s OK, it’s cool.
Her bed was big. A queen size. They didn’t even have to touch, if she didn’t want that to happen.

Had she been drunk? She didn’t think so.

Had she been high? Hmm, not that either.

Well, it must have seemed like the thing to do at the time.

She pulled the covers over her shoulder and stared at his face through the darkness, thinking about regret until she fell back to sleep.

***

A commotion in the kitchen woke Kate at six. She lay there staring at the ceiling as dawn seeped into her room. The blinds were open—she always opened them once she turned out the lights before going to bed so the sunrise woke her—but the sun was slow to come. Through the branches of the tree just outside her window, she saw bits and shards of the morning sky. It was covered by a dark cloud. A light rain fell. She heard the pitter patter on the tin awning covering the entrance to the basement apartment below her flat.

Ty groaned. She turned as his eyes flickered open. The sight of his green irises staring at her shifted something in her stomach as though a thousand cocoons hatched and the new butterflies had begun to dry their wings all at once.

“Hey,” he said, a smile appearing. A night’s worth of dark scruff covered his cheeks and sharp jaw line.

“My roommate. She wakes up at the butt-crack of dawn,” Kate explained, answering his unasked question.

“Butt-crack of dawn?” he repeated. “I never thought I’d hear those words from you. I love waking up to such romantic sentiments.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Where was she last time? Have I met her?”

“You got lucky that time. She was away. Band camp or something.”

“Seriously?” He laughed.

“No, not band camp. Um, she plays the violin. Goes away for recitals and performances.”

“So that’s what the screeching was. I heard that an hour ago but fell back to sleep. What’s happening now?”

“She bakes,” Kate shrugged, which was awkward horizontally. Only one shoulder moved. “Muffins, probably.”

“Ooh, a muffin. That sounds perfect about now.”

“So perfect that you’re thankful to be wide awake at six?”

“Well, I’m waking up to you, so that’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, I guess. You lucky guy!” Kate joked.

“But seriously, do you think she’d let me have a muffin?”

“My mom was right,” Kate answered, rolling to the edge of the bed and standing up.

“What?”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

He nodded and swung his legs over to her side of the bed so he could get up. The other side of the bed butted up against the wall. “It’s not exactly rocket science,” he said, smirking a bit. He ran a hand through his hair, which looked attractively messy. Of course it did, because he had those archangelic good looks. She sighed, feeling lucky to have him in bed, but also somber for not feeling quite up to par physically. 

“So you’re actually going to own that men are simple?” Kate asked in disbelief. She opened the bottle of lotion she kept on her desk and squeezed some out as she sat down on the rickety wooden chair. She crossed a leg over her knee and rubbed the lotion into her foot.

Ty paused at the edge of the bed, his hands positioned on either side of his knees. “Yes, and proud of it. Case in point,” he said with a grin, nodding toward her morning moisturizing ritual.

“What? I dry out during the night. Desert-living, you know.”

“You wouldn’t catch a guy doing that,” he said.

“Men aren’t as in tune with their bodies,” Kate pointed out.

“Not like that, anyway,” he joked, flashing Kate a wicked grin.

“Let’s go get you some baked goods,” Kate said, shaking her head at his dirty reference.

She put a sweatshirt on over her night T-shirt and headed into the kitchen. Ty followed her.

Jill was sitting at the crappy kitchen table, reading a cookbook as she daintily ate a muffin. She looked up when they entered. Her dark eyes widened when she saw that a boy was with Kate. “Oh, hi, hello, um hi,” she said, leaving a finger in the cookbook as she used her other hand to brush the crumbs off her mouth. “I’m Jill, Kate’s roommate.”

“This is Ty,” Kate told her. “He would adore it if you shared some—” Kate glanced at the row of muffin tins scattered across the counter, “blueberry? Blueberry muffins with him.”

“Oh, please, please, of course, have as many as you’d like, Ty. They never get eaten. Not all of them, anyway.”

“Thanks Jill,” Ty said with a friendly smile. “I heard you smoking up the house with some phenomenal violin solos this morning.” He carefully lifted a muffin out of the tin and cupped his hand around it as he took a bite right off the top.

Jill blushed and let the cookbook flop shut as she used both hands to adjust her hair. Kate watched her fidgeting under Ty’s scrutiny while he polished off a muffin. They were small and homemade, not the enormous behemoths coffee shops sold. Ty sat down next to Jill while Kate poured herself a glass of almond milk and offered some to Ty.

“Sounds great, thanks,” he said. Kate placed a full glass in front of him at the table. Jill struggled to maintain a casual air as she talked to Ty. Kate shook her head, wondering if any girl could keep her cool around Ty. She went back to the counter, to the row of muffin tins and leaned against the cabinets, sipping her almond milk and picking the blueberries out of a muffin before she ate it.

“My mom,” Jill was saying. “It’s her recipe. She always baked for us. Every morning there was something—muffins, orange rolls, cinnamon rolls, croissants.”

“Your mom sounds amazing,” Ty said, standing up and getting another muffin—three, he got three more and went back to his seat. Kate took a mental note that he had a voracious appetite in the morning.

“She was,” Jill admitted firmly. “She was unstoppable. Super-woman.”

Kate drifted in and out of the conversation. Her attention went to the window, where the wind picked up outside and the rain pelted against the kitchen window. Something about it caused her to remember the dream with Will.

He
’s alive. And not in a Frankenstein way. A real way. Alive. Somewhere. On Earth. Out in the universe somewhere. I have to find him. 

Kate suddenly couldn’t breath. Her chest felt like it was either collapsing or exploding.

Will was alive! Where?

He said not on Earth. Hell. Is that right?

There was a bit of unchewed muffin in her mouth and she suddenly couldn’t swallow it. She began to choke. She lurched toward the sink and spit it out.

“You OK, Kate?” Jill asked. She sounded far away.

“Kate?” Ty asked.

He was at her side just like that, staring at her, concern making a furrowed line between his eyes.

“Kate? What’s wrong? Are you choking?”

“I’m fine,” Kate managed to say. It came out hoarse. She needed liquid. She grabbed her glass of almond milk and took a tentative sip.

“What happened?” Ty asked.

“Nothing. I just—nothing,” Kate said, debating over whether to tell him anything. “I choked on a blueberry.” A lie. She pulled all the blueberries out, but she doubted he saw that.

Kate couldn’t tell him. What would she say? “Oh, I found out last night that the man who’s been haunting my dreams for months now is alive and imprisoned somewhere, quite possibly not on Earth, but in hell. H-e-l-l. And did I mention that we’ve had dream-sex a thousand times?” Yes, she was quite sure that wouldn’t go over smoothly.

“Drink some water, that should help you get your voice back,” Ty said, patting her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Kate said.

“Wow, I’m so sorry about the blueberries, Kate. I used real ones, not the dehydrated kind. I had no idea they’d be a choking hazard,” she explained. Kate turned and smiled.

“It’s not your fault.” Kate felt guilty, suddenly, for blaming her episode on the blueberries. But it was that or try to explain that she’d just remembered that she promised Will that she’d save him. She’d find him and save him. From hell. Or wherever he was.

21: Bitter Goodbye

Two hours later and Kate was at work, early. Ferg drew up short and blinked in stunned amazement when he arrived and she was already in the store, cleaning up. “Let’s go up to the roof, like we used to,” he said, after he recovered.

“It’s raining,” she pointed out.

“No, it let up. It’s just a drizzle now.”

She didn’t feel like a fight, so she followed his tall figure out the back door. He gave her a boost to the roof access ladder. She climbed up and after she was on the roof, he used the side of the building to push off with his foot and grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder. A few minutes later and they were watching the city traffic below them from the four-foot opening in the facade of Suga’s. 

Ferg pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and a lighter out of his jean’s pocket.

“I thought you quit,” she observed, leaning against the inside edge of the opening in the facade. All the storefronts extended about seven feet higher than the actual roof. They were old—built in the thirties. Under Kate’s feet the thin layer of wet gravel crunched. The sounds were muted and the air smelled of soaked concrete.

“I did. And then I saw Emily with another guy,” he said, letting a current of smoke drift from his mouth like he couldn’t give a crap about a thing in the entire world.

“Well, I mean, that’s a very good reason to begin smoking again,” she said.

“What’s bugging you?” he asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

“I don’t—what are you talking about?”

“I can tell something’s bothering you. You’ve been surly. That’s my shtick, not yours. So what is it? Is it Ty?”

She sighed and shifted, thinking about Will being alive somewhere and trapped. “No, not really. I mean, he did take a job in Vegas, so that’s kind of annoying.” Kate couldn’t tell him about her dreams. There was no way. She couldn’t even tell Audra about the new developments.

“And you don’t want him to leave?” Ferg said, turning the lighter over in his hand thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. If he stayed, there’d be all this pressure, so I don’t want him to stay just for me,” she explained, bending over to pick up a piece of gravel and throw it against the inside of the facade.

“So you’re not that into him,” he said, sucking on the cigarette.

“No, I am. I am . . . sort of into him. But not enough to follow him across the country or commit to him. I have no idea how that would feel anyway. At least not—” she was about to say “not over someone who was alive,” and then she remembered that Will was alive, so it wouldn’t be right. Also, she didn’t want to say anything cryptic to Ferg that would cause him to ask more questions. Kate was good at keeping a secret as long as no one gave her the third degree.