How to Kill Yourself in a Small Town (3 page)

“It
used to be that we found someone who struck our fancy at random,” Mikal said.
“Most of us still follow our preferences just like humans do for blondes or
brunettes, muscles or sexy smiles, but the non-person rules these days are very
clear on who we can make familiars. Colter here lost his heart to me.”

She
touched her familiar’s cheek. The way he looked up at her made me feel like I
was watching them have sex.

“Tell
them what you call me, love,” she said.

A
second passed. Red bloomed across the top of Resist-or-Serve’s cheekbones as if
someone was airbrushing the blush onto a doll’s cheeks.

“My
burning angel,” he said.

“Isn’t
that beautiful?” Mikal said. She bent down and kissed his forehead. “When I
heard that, I knew I had to keep him. Hell, I’m just as susceptible to sweet
talk and a pretty face as the next girl.”

The
frizzy-haired woman in front of me looked down at Resist-or-Serve, not even
making an effort to keep her eyes off the goods.

“What’s
it like to be a familiar?” she asked.

I
don’t know if anyone else saw the way Mikal glared at Frizzy before putting on
a big smile. For that split-second, ice chips lodged in my spine.

“You
can address all questions to me,” Mikal told her. “Colt’s not allowed to speak
right now.” She must’ve seen the little looks passing between travel buddies
because she explained, “My man gets off on submission. He can only talk when I
tell him to.”

“Is
that why you—” Frizzy changed her question and looked up at Mikal. “Is that why
he chose to be your familiar? Because it’s like being the slave or the sub in a
dominant-submissive relationship, isn’t it?”

“Not
at all,” Mikal said.

Then
she turned on her spikey heel and started to lead us out of the visitor’s wing.
Resist-or-Serve sprang up to follow. Maybe “sprang” was poor word choice, but
considering the very naked circumstances it was hard to think of any others.
Maybe “jumped.” He jumped up to follow.

Good
grief. Just keep your eyes off his package.

I
tried to focus on his tattoos as he passed me, but I didn’t have time to read
the text on his arm. His back was covered, too—a Bible passage that I
remembered from Sunday school. Everything from “Put on the whole armor of God”
to “for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I might declare it boldly, as
I ought to speak.”

Maybe
he was a disgruntled Jesus freak.

I
wondered whether I could get a second to ask Resist-or-Serve if he had seen a
girl who looked like me in the Dark Mansion. Probably not, but if I could just
get him to look at me, maybe I could gauge his reaction.

When
we stopped in the entrance hall, I edged closer to where he was kneeling, and
flipped my bangs out of my face, just in case they actually were obscuring
anything.

Mikal’s
black eyes locked on mine and I felt my heart stop beating. It was like she
knew why I was there, like she could see into my brain, all the way back
through the last few years—Dad leaving, Mom falling apart, Tempie running away.
I thought I was going to start crying.

Mikal
smiled. She knew. She knew and I was just standing there waiting to be killed
or arrested or something equally awful.

“Any
other questions?” Mikal asked.

“Is
it true that during Halo’s NP-Human Conflict all of the people over twenty-five
were executed?” Know-It-All asked.

It
was such a relief when Mikal looked away from me to answer him. “Those humans—”

“It’s
an unfortunate truth of war with mortals that lives are always lost,” Mayor
Dark said, striding into the hall, buttoning the jacket of his tailored suit.
He had to be the only life form in existence that looked as racy fully dressed
as he did half-naked. “Just as many mortal non-people—werecreatures, zombies,
sirens, and some lesser demons—were lost as humans.” He bowed his head as if
solemnly remembering their sacrifice. “‘War is hell,’ as the man said.”

Then
Mayor Dark smiled. The moment of silence was over.

“Thank
you all for coming to visit the Dark Mansion.” Either it was lustful thinking
or a trick of his powers that made it seem like his black eyes rested on me for
a second longer than everyone else. “I hope you’ll all be staying in Halo for
the celebration of the Armistice’s tenth anniversary next weekend. Oh, and
while you’re in town, you’ve got to eat at Bub’s Diner. Their goulash is
amazing.”

This
was the same Mayor Kathan Dark who had united non-people across the country by
arguing that Daniel Whitney’s crusade against the fallen angels would become a
war against all NPs if it wasn’t stopped. The same Kathan Dark who had created
and integrated an NP legal system into human legislation so that the US
government could continue to function. We had studied his speeches in school
alongside Martin Luther King, Jr., Patrick Henry, and Cicero. That same Kathan
Dark was pushing the goulash at the local diner.

I
got so caught up trying to reconcile the spokesperson for NP rights with the
small-town mayor that I didn’t notice our tour guide and Mikal herding us out
of the mansion until we were back on the bus.

I
sat down and scooted over so I could look out the window.

Mikal
was leading her familiar inside. Maybe she hadn’t recognized me. Maybe I had
just psyched myself out.

Mayor
Dark stayed on the top step watching as our bus turned around and started down
the lane, hands in the pockets of his suit pants and a bright smile on his
face.

Colt

I
love it when you blush, Colt. I think you should put on your little show for
every tour group that comes through here.

I
couldn’t even tell Mikal to fuck off. That “little show” just about took
everything out of me. It was stupid to fight her on the burning angel thing,
such a waste of energy, but it had seemed so important at the time.

I
still felt ants digging in my veins, trying to chew their way out. They weren’t
real, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that the last of
them would disappear in a few more seconds.

If
I could get through a few more seconds.

Then
I heard a rifle bolt open and shut. There wasn’t any way to stop the memory. It
was like the ants—the only thing to do was get through it.

A
man in my scope. Meth-head haggard, with deep eye sockets. I had heard him talk
before. I’d been calling him Southern Guy because of his accent. I pulled the
bolt, touched the shiny copper tip of the bullet, then shut the bolt. Safety
off. Inhale. Exhale. But the timing was off, the exhale too close to the
downbeat of my pulse. I had to do it again—safety on, bolt, touch, bolt,
safety, inhale, exhale. Stop. Perfect. Squeeze the trigger. The shot echoed
across the countryside, probably all the way to town. I put a round in Southern
Guy’s deep, meth-head eye socket, then I let the rifle drop and grabbed the
barbed wire fence while I threw up.

You
know, Colter,
Mikal said,
The only familiar whose
flashbacks I’ve ever enjoyed as much as yours was this Israelite soldier’s back
in Joshua’s day. Would you like to hear how it sounds when you kill a baby with
a sword?

Fuck
you.
But there wasn’t any conviction behind it. My body was an itching, bleeding ant
farm. My brain felt like a hollow point had exploded inside my skull.

Before
Mikal, back when I was alone—even back when I was still living with Ryder and
Tough—I used to be scared I was going crazy. To keep everything straight, I
would make schedules in my head, plan out the next five seconds, the next
minute, the next hour. But now, not being able to move or scream or scratch
those fucking ants out of my skin… Just thinking about a whole hour made me
want to go to sleep and never wake up.

How
long had I already been with Mikal? If it had been less than a week, I was
going to find a way to kill myself.

Now
there was a plan.

No.
Fuck. I had to keep my shit together. There was already a plan. I needed to
remember what it was, then stick to the fucking plan.

Sniping
Mikal’s familiars. I’d had to kill them to get her to come after me. I needed
Mikal to come after me because…because of something to do with Tough…

Thinking
about Tough triggered a different memory. It was the middle of winter, about
three months after Ryder died and Tough had run away the first time. We stood
on the porch at the cabin, listening to Rian’s motorcycle drive away.

Tough
wouldn’t look at me. He just kept rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had
been.

I
couldn’t think of anything to say. I wanted to hug him and be glad he was
alive, but I wanted to hit him worse.

“Nashville?”
I asked him.

Tough
shrugged.

“How
long you been back in town?” I asked.

“Couple
days,” he said.

“Been
staying with Mitzi and Jason?”

“You
know labels won’t sign underage singers?” Tough said. “Like, it’s a law. Got to
have signatures from your legal parents. Uh, guardians. Whatever.”

That’s
when I realized he was slurring and leaning a little bit to one side.

“You’re
shitfaced,” I said.

He
laughed. “And you’re not? What, am I early?”

“Did
Mitzi give you something so she could get high off you?” I asked. “Pills or
something?”

“It
doesn’t work like that, dumbass,” he said. “It was just some…some…”

“Some
what?”

Tough
straightened up and got this punk-ass look on his face like he wasn’t going to
answer.

I
grabbed a fistful of his jacket. “What’d she give you?”

He
knocked my hand off.

“Don’t
touch me,” he said.

“Why
not? Mitzi and Jason own all the rights to you now?” I shoved him. “A fucking
man-whore?” Another shove. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I
said don’t you fucking touch me!”

“You
going to stop me?” I said. He tried to get ahold of me, but I dodged at the
last second and smacked him upside the head. “Or are your protectors?”

“Do
you fucking know how long it would’ve took Ryder to die?” Tough yelled.

“You’re
going to tell me?” I yelled back. “I picked up the pieces while your coward ass
was halfway to Nashville!”

“I’m
not ready to go in the fucking ground yet. Why the hell is that so hard to
understand?”

“You
are a genius, Tough,” I said. “Why didn’t I ever think of that? Just bend over
and grab my ankles. That ought to work!”

“Suck
my cock. Then suck it again, you OCD shitwad.”

“All
right, but only if it gets me protection.”

I
wasn’t fast enough to dodge him that time. His shoulder hit me in the gut and
we tripped off the porch. Falling flat on my back on the frozen ground knocked
the wind out of me. Tough landed a few sloppy punches. I took an awkward swing,
but it didn’t even faze him.

“You
want to die, Colt?” Tough was screaming now. “You want to fucking die before
you’re fucking twenty? ‘Cause I don’t. You’re fucking crazy if you think—”

It
was like a bomb went off. First Tough was sitting on my stomach trying to punch
like he wasn’t high off his ass, then when I could see again, I was standing
over him, choking on the cold air and coughing out these big white breaths.
Tough’s cheek under his eye was swelling and his nose was broken and bleeding.

“Come
on, bitch,” he yelled. “Hit me like you mean it. Do Ryder proud!”

I
backed up until I was leaning against the side of the cabin. I didn’t do that
to Tough. I wouldn’t have done that.

Tough
got up on one knee. “Feel better?”

“Get
the hell out of here,” I said.

When
he snorted, a spray of blood and snot dotted his jacket. He winced and put his
hand over his nose.

“You
jealous fucking asshole,” he said, stumbling a little as he stood up. “I
should’ve seen it sooner. I got friends, I’m banging a smoking hot nympho—”

“Don’t
dress that shit up,” I said. “You’re fucking an undead pedophile so that
dumbass Jason’ll keep Kathan off your back.”

“Oh,
yeah, that’s right. I ain’t got to watch my six anymore, either.” Tough pointed
over his shoulder. “That’s your two plus two plus two, in case you couldn’t
translate it from not-crazy.”

I
shook my head. “I hope to God Sissy can’t see this.”

All
Tough’s teenager bullshit dropped. He stood there staring at me like I’d
whipped out a gun and shot him.

“What?”
I said. “You going to cry now? You made your choice. Sissy would be disgusted.”

“Fuck
you.” Tough started backing toward the tree line. He tripped, then screamed so
hard his voice cracked, “Fuck you!”

“Go
see if Mitzi and Jason’ll let you sleep between them.”

I
hate that memory. If I knew where it was stored in my brain, I’d take a knife
and gouge it out so I wouldn’t have to think about how stupid I was, how bad I
fucked up.

Mikal’s
laugh jangled around inside my head like chain links.

Fuck
you,
I told her. But the last of the ants were gone. I’d made it.