How to Kill Yourself in a Small Town (25 page)

Tough

After
a while I was able to get Colt to the shower, but it didn’t feel like I should leave
him alone, so I sat on the toilet lid and waited for him to get done.

“This
would’ve ended by now if it wasn’t real. Or at least gotten…bad. Well, if I’m
going to believe anything, might as well be—”

So
far, waiting on Colt to get done had mostly consisted of listening to him talk
to himself.

If
I tried, I could make myself hear past Colt to my bedroom. I found Desty’s
heartbeat and focused in. Still too slow, still unconscious.

I
knew she would wake up when it went back to normal, but it felt like that was
taking forever. Had I really used that much bite sedative on her? Mitzi had
never sedated me when she bit. Now that I was thinking about it, though, I’d
always felt a little high afterward. Maybe it was something vamps could learn
to control. Maybe I could figure out how to keep from using so much so this
wouldn’t happen next time.

Yeah,
and maybe Desty wouldn’t care that I’d almost killed her and had sex with her
mutilated corpse in a pool of her own blood.

“What
the hell?” Colt said. I could hear him shaking his head, hard, like he was
trying to get something out.

Shit,
I forgot you could still hear me and, uh, see stuff,
I
said.
This is my first day with a connection, too. Sorry about the vamp
porn. Apparently we’re some sick fucks.

Unless
it was just me.

“It’s
the crow magic,” Colt said. “Primal stuff like blood and sex feed it. That’s
why vamps get off on mutilation and killing and freak out when they catch on
fire.”

You
try to stay calm while you’re burning like a grease rag,
I
said. I kicked the pile of Colt’s clothes on the floor with the toe of my boot.
His shirt was stiff from the dried venom and blood.
I think your Lucky
shirt’s done for.

“What’s
that piece of shit, anyhow, like, twelve years old? Good fucking riddance to
old fucking rubbish,” Colt said. Then he said, “Fuck you. Can’t we wash it or
something? I think the Lucky logo was just starting to kick in.”

I
took a long breath so I could blow it back out. I know I didn’t need to breathe
anymore, but it helped.

So
Colt was nuts. But the joke about the shirt was one he would’ve made. And
really, it could’ve been a whole lot worse, considering how long he’d had Mikal
fucking with his head. He hadn’t tried to kill himself or anybody else yet and
he wasn’t begging me to tell him what to do, so he had a leg up on the other
familiars Mikal had cast off. He was crazy, but he was still Colt.

Maybe
he would’ve made some sense if I could’ve heard him through the vamp
connection, but either God had fixed it so the connection only went one way for
us or something had gone wrong when I tried to make Colt. Hell, maybe the crazy
was keeping me from being able to hear his thoughts, I don’t know.

I’ll
ask Harper about the shirt,
I told him.
She was able to get the
blood out of my hat.

“Thanks.”

Yeah.
You done in there yet?

“It’s
hard to get this off.”

That’s
what she said,
I thought it at the same time as Colt said,
“That’s what she said.”

“See?
I’m not all gone,” he said. Then he said, “Yeah, well, I’m saving my impressed
face for when you remember where the fuck you live.”

I
pushed in hard on my eyes. I needed a drink. Why the hell hadn’t anyone come up
with blood beer yet? Vamps had been around forever, it wasn’t like they hadn’t
had plenty of time.

“Hey,
Tough?”

What?

“We didn’t
talk after you left.” Colt said it like he was asking me.

Nope,
never.

“Then
how do I know what Mitzi did to you?”

Probably
because everybody knows about her and Jason’s bright idea by now.

“Not
that. I mean, after you first started sleeping with her. When you told her you
were falling in love with her.”

For
a second, I couldn’t say anything. I shook my head and stood up.

We’re
not talking about this,
I said.

“How
do I know what Mitzi said to you?” Colt asked.

I
don’t know and I don’t fucking care. Get cleaned up. You’re going to run out of
hot water.

“It
gets hard for vamps to feel after they’ve been dead for a long time. She wanted
to hurt you because you could still feel it.”

What
are you, a fucking vampire expert now?

Colt
thought about it for a minute.

“Somebody
told me that,” he said. “I hung around the tattoo shop a lot, didn’t I?” Then
he said, “No shit? You figure that out all by yourself, Inktastic? Fuck you,
Born Country. I was just saying I must’ve picked up some crow stuff from Lonely
and his gang.”

I
squeezed my broken rib and looked up at the ceiling. The top parts of my cheeks
were hot, but not as hot as when I was alive and embarrassed. The heat felt
good, but fake, like listening to your favorite song when you know you’re
screwed in real life. At least Colt’s crazy had distracted him from the whole
me and Mitzi thing.

Then
I smiled. Yesterday afternoon while we were taking a break and listening to
some music, Desty had said that she thought it was cute when I blushed. Then
she’d laughed when she realized “cute” was just about as offensive as “short”
is to guys, but she said she wasn’t taking it back. That was what started up
Round Two—me wrestling her, trying to make her take it back. I had ended up on
bottom. Darn the luck.

That
really was the best afternoon of my life. And I guess it got to keep the record
since I left her asleep in bed and went off to kill myself not long afterwards.

A
lot could change in twenty-four hours. I went from too freaking hot all the
time to too freaking cold. This kind of cold didn’t feel right. I wanted to go
curl up in bed with Desty. She’d be hot, all the way down to her bones. That
would feel right. And since we’d already be in bed…

No
wonder Mitzi had called me in at all hours of the night. Even just the inside
of my jeans against my dick was turning me on. With Mitzi, the vamp
hypersensitivity had paid off in half a dozen orgasms every time we did it.
Just guessing, but probably for guy vamps—and their girlfriends—it was more of
a hindrance than a help.

In
the shower, Colt stopped moving like he couldn’t remember what he was supposed
to be doing.

Could
you hurry it up some?
I said. It’d been almost ten hours since Mikal
left the house. Every minute she didn’t bust back in the door and kill
everybody ratcheted up the tension in the back of my neck by another hundred
notches.
We need to get the hell out of here before somebody lets it slip to
Mikal that you’re not dead.

The
vamp senses told me someone was coming down the hallway.

“Hey,
Tough?” Harper knocked. “Come out here for a second.”

Colt
would probably be fine. There wasn’t anything dangerous in the shower, anyway.
I went out into the hall, but I kept the door open just in case.

Harper
was opening a little brown paper bag. She held up the bellybutton stud that had
been inside. A blood charm.

“Scout
picked it up from Lonely’s,” she said. “If Desty wants to stay, I’ll give it to
her, but…”

But
only a suicidal retard would want to stay with a serial killer. And even if Desty
did want to stay with me, what about sex? We couldn’t use warming gel and I
couldn’t imagine a girl would like having something cold inside of her. Other
than sex, there wasn’t really anything else I had to offer a girl like Desty.

“You
know how it works?” Harper asked.

I
nodded. Mitzi used to keep one around in case things got out of hand.

“Give
me your finger, then.”

I
held my middle finger out. Harper stabbed it with the stud.

“You
know it’d be better for everybody if she just left,” Harper said, watching the
little grenade-shaped decoration on the end turn the same brownish color as
vamp venom.

I
shook my head hard so Harper would know how wrong she was. Desty was as close
to good—like innocent-good—as a piece of shit like me could ever get. I couldn’t
just let her go. I had to find a way to convince her to stay with me.

Desty

I
kicked and fought my way through the blood, almost at the surface when
something grabbed my leg and pulled me back down. I tried to scream, but hot, thick
blood filled my mouth and pooled in my lungs. I could feel the bubbles popping
in my throat as I choked. Then someone was running. A hiss like a demon cat
from Hell. That wasn’t how the blood dream usually went.

What
if this wasn’t a dream?

Oh,
God, please don’t let me die like this!
I fought harder but nothing
happened. I don’t know if you can cry underwater—or underblood—but I think I
managed.

“Back
the hell up, Tough, or I swear I’ll start praying!” That was Harper yelling.

Another
hiss.

“God
Almighty, Creator of everything, Lord of the Heavens and Earth, Father of
Christ in Whom all may find salvation—”

Something
hit the floor in the hallway.

I
opened my eyes. Tough’s room, the window-sheet pulled aside and the late
afternoon sun shining in stripes through the beer-can-props. Someone had
covered me up with the top sheet. The fan wasn’t on, but I wasn’t sweating.
Dehydrated again.

My
thighs felt sticky. It took so much effort to push up onto my elbow that I
almost passed out. My arms shook but I kept pushing through it until I was
sitting up, then let my head hang down and breathed until the blackout was just
a dizzy spell. After a few seconds, I could see clearly. The sheet between my
legs looked like the day I woke up with my very first period, which had just
happened to fall on December 25th. Mom had thought that was hilarious—Mother
Nature’s Gift on Christmas morning. Except today there was a set of fang marks
in my femoral artery.

Tough’s
fang marks.
Merry freaking Christmas.

Hot needles
prickled along the back of my eyes and throat, but I made myself breathe until
they passed. I couldn’t break down now, not after all this.

“I’ll
check on her,” Harper said. “You stay here.”

I had
just enough energy to grab one of Tough’s shirts off the floor and pull it on
before Harper walked in the door and shut it behind her.

She
took two seconds to see that I was alive and awake, then planted her hand on
her hip and asked me, “Will you leave now?”

“I
want to talk to Jax,” I said.

“He’s
not here,” she said. “He had to talk to Bailey at the Witches’ Council. To ask
about the prophecy thing and see whether they would consider it fulfilled now.”

Everything
faded into red and I felt myself falling forward. I rested my forehead on the
bed until the redness disappeared.

“Did
someone do it to Tough or…or what?” I asked.

“He
got someone to make him,” Harper said.

I
picked my head up and tried to think. “If it wasn’t Colt who killed him…the
prophecy said it had to be his brother…and there’s that whole thing about a
holy champion—”

“Yeah,
well, you missed a lot while you were out,” Harper said. “Which reminds me—you
never, ever let a vamp suck off of you while you’re laying down. They have to
feel like they killed something, and if you can’t collapse, they’ll keep
drinking until your heart stops.”

“I’ll
try to remember that,” I said.

 Harper
pointed to her neck. “And only ever from the jugular.”

“Okay.”

“And
another thing—”

“Please,
Harper, I can’t do this right now. I feel like the community crack pipe. I’ve been
hit off of three times this week.”

“Don’t
even get me started on that,” Harper said.

“I’m
not trying to,” I snapped. “I’ve got all I can handle right now. My mother’s
depressed and, like, one step away from catatonic and unless I drag my sister
back home, she’ll probably never come out of it. My sister’s an alpha’s
familiar and unless I become her joint-familiar, her brain will corrode until
she’s vegetative. Now the guy I thought I— Now Tough—”

Anger
wouldn’t carry me through the whole list. Tough had gotten someone to make him
into a vamp. The people I loved kept getting more and more creative with the
ways they left me behind.

When I
could, I cleared my throat. “So if you wouldn’t mind saving the lecture for a
little later on…”

Harper
sighed.

“He did
it to save Colt,” she said.

The
room went wavy. I had to close my eyes, but Harper kept talking.

“I
think Tough was trying to make Colt a vampire, too,” she said. “But that takes
time and the person getting made really has to want it. Logan says it’s hard to
do even then. But I think Tough was okay with just killing Colt. Anything to
get him away from Mikal.”

It
made sense. Tough had done what he had to do to save his brother. Death was the
only release outside the will of the fallen angel—all the articles said so. But
being this close to it… And Tempie… My head started spinning again.

Then I
heard a man’s voice, raised like he was arguing with someone.

Harper
opened the bedroom door and leaned into the hall.

“Should
you go check on him?” she asked whoever was out there. “Seriously, if he tears
up my room—”

“Check
on who?” I asked. “Is Tough okay?”

Harper
shut the door again.

“He’s
fine,” she said. “I told you Tough killed Colt—but I think God brought Colt
back to life. Like a miracle.”

I
didn’t have the energy to ask her to explain any better. The point was Tough
had ‘visited death upon his brother’ and a ‘holy champion’ had risen. Jax
surely knew that that fulfilled the prophecy, so he must be talking to Bailey
about something else.

“I
need to see Tough,” I said. Talk about mental disorders. What I really needed
to do was cut my losses and walk away before I ended up like Mom or, like,
dead.

“No,”
Harper said.

Two
loud bangs shook the bedroom wall. Harper swung around.

“Go
check on your brother,” she yelled.

Tough
knocked again.

“Go,
or I’ll crucifix you,” Harper said. “Desty needs to gather her thoughts so she
can tell you to go stake yourself. You almost killed her. She hates you, you
dumbass.”

“I do
not!” My head started to drop again, but I hooked my elbows on my knees and
grabbed a handful of hair on either side to keep my head up. Apparently being
stupid-in-love outdid common sense and blood loss. “I don’t hate you, Tough. I
mean, what you did—that was really—but—”

Either
Tough was knocking on the wall again or my heart was trying to make me go deaf.
My fingers slid through my hair. I felt Harper’s hands push me backward. My
head hit the pillow. A burning needle stabbed through my stomach above my
bellybutton.

“Ow.”
I tried to swipe it off. My hand made it about halfway there before it fell
back. “What…”

“It’s
a blood charm,” Harper said. “I had Scout pick it up. It’ll help you recover
faster from being fed on and keep you from going anemic. If you were serious
about staying with Tough, I’d tell you to get something more permanent, but
this’ll work for now.”

The
effect was almost immediate. I felt wired, like I’d had too much coffee without
eating. The charm was still hot. I lifted my head and looked down my stomach at
the little glowing red stud.

“Is
that a grenade?” I asked.

“Scout
said she thought it was appropriate,” Harper said.

“A
hand grenade.”

“She
said back in World War I they used to test recruits in boot camp by throwing
dummy grenades into a crowd to see if any of them jumped on it to contain the
explosion.”

Nice.
A stab at me for being a wuss.

Harper
must’ve seen what I was thinking in my expression.

“Just
be glad I didn’t let her stick around to tell you in person,” she said.

Yeah,
thank God for small blessings.
But the charm was making me
feel better—physically, at least. I sat up and only shook a little. While I
watched, the fang marks scabbed over and the bruise around them lightened.

“You’re
going to need to hear that lecture sometime,” Harper said.

“Probably
some mental help, too,” I said under my breath. “Can I see him now?”

“No.”
Then Harper called over her shoulder, “And if you hit that wall again, Tough, I
swear I’ll have someone come in and bless this entire house.” She pointed at
me. “You’re bloody, weak, and half-naked. You two need to get this through your
thick skulls—vamps are predators. Letting Tough come in here would be like
hanging some steaks on a baby and setting a werewolf loose.”

“Fine,”
I said.

Tough
knocked, softly this time.

Harper
sighed.

“I’m
not trying to be a bitch,” she said. “You can’t be like this around him
anymore. Maybe it was okay to be weak where you’re from, but it’s not here.
Weak equals prey. NPs back home messed with you all the time, didn’t they?”

Not
just NPs. Weak nerds occupy that lucky class that gets picked on by people and
non-people alike.

“Yeah.”

“And
your sister protected you from the worst of it?”

I
nodded. Except when she was with Dad, or skipping school with her boyfriends,
or later, locked in our room with her music cranked, dreaming about fallen
angels.

“Unless
you’re going to go join her and Kathan, you need to grow up,” Harper said.

I
nodded again. Then I cleared my throat and raised my voice—“Tough, go away.”

There
was a shifting in the hall, like someone putting their weight on a different
foot.

“Please,
Tough,” I said. “I need another shower. Then you and I need to talk.”