Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A tale of Atomic Love (11 page)

“Maybe we should just let him live,” she said. “It would be punishment enough.”

He lived upstairs, and the stone steps were steep enough that she shivered a little.

“I don’t like heights,” she whispered to Lu. “If we get caught tonight, you should know this.”

“I’m afraid of clowns.”

“Now that’s just weird.
Hush up, baby. Give me a few minutes.”

She climbed the steps. Bit her lip and blew out her breath. Pulled her neckline down a few inches and knocked on the door.

Her hand, it felt diseased from touching the rotted wood. She could feel the germs and filth swarming its way up her arm, across her shoulder. The way he had always made her feel. She glanced down the steps toward Lu’s hiding place, then squared her shoulders. She heard it was supposed to make her braver.

It didn’t.

She knocked again.

“What?”

She heard the voice through the door. It sounded older. Meaner. But she could still hear the same tones in it, still recognized it from so long ago. Heavens knew it showed up in enough nightmares for it to be heartbreakingly familiar.

“Emmanuel? Honey, is that you?”

She made her voice sweet. Sweet enough to drip sugar water, to entice his hands and tongue and everything else that made him human.

“Who are you?”

“It’s Montessa. We used to be…close.”

The door opened, but the cheap metal chain stretched across the opening.

“Yeah?”

His eye peered out through the crack of the door, and Montessa nearly puked. How many times had she seen that before? She swallowed hard, smoothed her clothes nervously. When she smiled, it was brilliant.

“Remember me? It was a long time ago.”

Lust. She could feel it rolling off him in waves. She wavered and steadied herself on the railing.

He remembered her.

“Are you alone, baby?” she asked. She was on autopilot. Time to play Ruby from the strip club, to wear that mask. Montessa was nowhere to be seen anymore. She was tucked in bed, wearing sweet striped pajamas and sleeping the peaceful sleep of the weary. Ruby was in charge now, and Ruby would protect her.

“I’m alone.”

“Can I come in? I was in town and hoped maybe you and I could have a little fun.”

She slid her hand to her back pocket, gripped the handle of the Killing Knife. It was fairly singing. She felt the energy sliding up her arm like the most sensuous of caresses. Felt her eyes go large and huge with her own type of lust. Lusting for body and lusting for blood, it was the same.

The door shut. She heard the chain. It opened again all of the way, and she saw Emmanuel standing there in an old tee shirt and dirty cargo pants.

“Come in,” he said. She peeked into his brain, saw the confusion and delight there. Felt the darkness welling up from somewhere deep. Saw herself as a child, tiny and scared, curled up in her bed, holding a long-forgotten stuffed animal tight. Felt the wicked joy washing over him, like soup in a bowl, sloshing over the sides and making her hands sticky.

“That’s right. Remember all of the fun we had, Manny.”

She shut the door behind her, taking care to leave it unlocked. Her hands shook, but she kept her Ruby face on. Interested. Hardly repulsed at all.

“Want to go in the other room? I don’t have as much time as I’d like. Perhaps we could get started.”

He couldn’t believe his luck. Couldn’t believe that tonight, just some random night, one of his favorite memories would show up on his doorstep, begging for more. He knew that, even though she struggled and fought, pretending to hate it, she had wanted more.

“The room’s back here.”

He turned and walked down the hall, tripping over dirty clothes and half-eaten food. He didn’t take her hand. Didn’t feign concern.

Nice to know some things didn’t change.

I’m in charge,
Montessa reminded herself. Her skin felt clammy and the room spun, but she touched the handle of the knife in her back pocket again. Her center. Told herself she could do this, that she chose this, that she was bigger now than she had been then. She was nearly eye-level with Emmanuel, but somehow this didn’t make it much better.

Now she was closer to his mouth. Closer to his teeth and tongue.

I’m going to kill you,
she thought, and was able to take a step forward. Followed him to the bedroom. Her heart beat and beat and beat so hard that she could see her shirt move with the force of it, but she was strong. She had faced down Renan. She could do this, too.

His room was filthy. It reeked of sweat and body odor and being closed-in for too long.

He sat on the dirty sheets.

“Well? What exactly do you want to do?”

She showed her teeth, was pretty sure that it presented as a smile.

“Take off your shirt, darling. And then get on the bed. Turn around.”

His hands. Too thick. Too clumsy. Heavy and awkward as slabs of meat. She turned away while he pulled his shirt over his head. Put a hand to her stomach.

“Sick?”

“No, Manny. Just butterflies.”

He grinned, goofy, still disbelieving his good luck. Turned around. Showed his
ruddy back, the acne that she remembered.

She raised the knife. Touched his skin with her hand. The knife hovered over the muscle in his back. She moved it to his spine, to his neck.

She was shaking.

She couldn’t do this.

“Montessa?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Are you going to do something soon?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I don’t like to wait.” He laughed. “Remember how I don’t like to wait?”

“I remember.”

He didn’t hear the change in her voice. The hardness. If he had, perhaps he would have
altered his tactic. He would have said, “Oh, Montessa, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for what I did. I’m so ashamed. It never should have happened.”

But instead he said, “You were always one of my favorites, you know.”

She froze.

“What?”

“You were always one of my favorites. Maybe my very favorite. There were a couple of others who were almost as nice, but you?  You wanted it more than the others.”

“There were more? More little girls?”

“Girls. Boys. I’m not gay or nothing, but you take what you can get. A kid is a kid, right? But you? Oh, you were something special.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Your daddy said that, too. Told us. All of us. He was the one who—”

Montessa grabbed his head, jerked it back. Leaned over him and drew the knife along his throat.

Poorly.

Emmanuel screamed and bucked her off, scrabbling at his neck. He whirled toward Montessa, blood squirting through his fingers and landing on her face, her neck, in her eyes.

She stabbed at him again, in the neck, missing the artery, and her hand slid through the blood. She lost her grip on the knife, and it fell to the ground. She was crying, sobbing loudly, and dove after it. She grabbed it by the blade and it bit deeply into her hand.

Emmanuel choked and gurgled, clawing at his neck with one hand and reaching for Montessa with the other.

She staggered to her feet, then slipped in his blood and went down hard.

A flurry behind her, and Lu’s sneakers hit the floor, skidding through the blood and stopping abruptly. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and watched him grab Emmanuel from behind and expertly cut his throat. Lu threw the body on the bed where it jerked and spasmed.

He grabbed Montessa by the upper arm and dragged her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, running his hands over her arms and legs. He checked her face, her neck, and then pulled her to his chest.

“Montessa. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. My hand.”

He grabbed it, saw the depth of the cut. He ripped a strip from the bed sheet and wrapped it around her hand. It crimsoned instantly.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“He’s dead. We have to go. Now.”

He grabbed her wrist,
ushered her through the pooling blood and through the hallway. She looked back and saw their red footprints, saw herself running down the hallway forever and into eternity, leaving nothing but blood, blood, blood behind her.

“We need to clean up,” she said, but Lu was pushing her out the shabby front door and down the cement stairs.

“No time. Bad kill. We need to leave.”

They pelted down the street, and Montessa gasped at the
whoosh
of the building going up in flames.

“Lu! There were other people in that building!”

“This will give us time.”

“Not at the expense of innocent people!”

He pulled her into the hedges, dragged her down the back pathways.

“You screwed up, Montessa. You’re new, it’s okay. I should have gotten there earlier. But we don’t have time to clean up. I could hear the fighting and yelling from outside. The neighbors were looking out their windows.”

“But—”

“Look at you. You’r
e covered in blood. I just saved your life.”

Sirens. They flattened low to the ground behind the hedgerows, watched the fire truck and the police race toward the fire.

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Take it off. Now.”

They peeled off their tops. Lu gave his to Montessa.

“Not as bloody. Now we walk. Holding hands, like lovers.”

He carried her bunched up shirt in his hand, and they strolled carelessly down the road, just another couple out under the stars.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” he asked her.

“Is this the time for that?”

“Your body language is stressed. You look ready to bolt. It makes you suspicious.”

“So we’ll talk about soul mates.”

“Sure.”

“Want to ask me about Santa Claus, too?”

“I take it you’re not a believer.”

She scuffed her bloodied Keds across the sidewalk.

“It’s a romantic thought, but it’s a load of bunk.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged, looking at the sky and the smoke that was starting to cover the stars. Black smoke. Beautiful smoke. Lu smoke.

She smiled, and it took his breath away. Made his stomach ache more than any hunger pains or punches in the gut ever could. He held her hand tighter, laced his fingers even more closely. The blood was sticky and itchy, but her fingers were long and slim and absolutely wonderful.

“What kind of person would want me for a soul mate, Lu? To be stuck with me forever, regardless? That just sounds like a bad deal all around.”

“Don’t say that.”

“And what if my soul mate is somebody awful? Somebody cruel? What if it’s Renan or somebody like him and I can’t get away, no matter what. Cosmically trapped.”

“Do you think it would really be like that?”

“If such a thing existed, I don’t see how it would be any other way.”

They were almost to the truck. Lu swung her hand playfully.

“The thing about soul mates is that they’re a good fit, baby.”

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the
smoky starlight.

“I take it you’re a believer, Lu.”

He smiled, and kissed her bloodied hand.

“There’s a Chinese legend about the Red Thread of Fate. Have you heard it?”

“No.”

“Two people who are destined to be together are tied together by the red thread. And the thread tangles, and it pulls and stretches, but the idea is that it never breaks.”

“Never? No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

They reached the truck. He opened her door and helped her inside. Jogged around and climbed into his seat.

He started the engine, pulled onto the road. Reached for her hand again, and she gladly gave it to him.

“You’re meant for me, Montessa. I never would have thought it. And I’m meant for you. Our paths in life, they were following this red thread. We’re meant to be.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do. I’ve never believed something so completely in my life.”

Montessa put her feet on the dash, holding Lu’s hand. She needed to wash up, but not quite yet. She’d never heard such beautiful words, words spoken with
so much intent and earnestness. She poked around inside of his head and knew he had been following his red thread all of his life. That he had held to it when the demons were being beat out of him, when he was the kid with the funny eyes in his California school, when he lay in his room at night knowing he would never be loved for the monster he was. Except, that just maybe…

The thread led right to Montessa. Tied firmly around her bloodied wrist. And neither of them would ever let it go.