Devon Monk - Hell Bent

It took me two tries to get my hand around the glass. Those were some long odds I’d actually get any of the water in my mouth.

“Here.” He hadn’t let go of the glass yet. So he stood, sat next to me, and pressed the glass back in my hand.

Then he lifted my hand with the glass to my mouth. Helping me drink.

It was embarrassing. But I needed that water. And needed the help. I gulped as much of it as I could before I had to breathe again.

Terric tipped the glass away, waited for me to stop gasping, then helped me drink the rest.

“What happened?” he asked as he placed the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Eli,” I said.

Terric froze. “Where?”

“My room. Shot me with a tranq.” I swallowed, trying to get my brains in order. “Jesus, hate this.” Pointed at my head.

“Eli was in your room,” Terric repeated. “And he shot you with a tranq gun? Did he say anything?”

“Lots. The usual crazy.” I was out of air. Worked on filling my lungs. “He cut up Joshua just to get our . . . attention. Just to fuck with us.” I was shaking now, a tremble I couldn’t seem to get under control.

Terric made a blanket appear from somewhere nearby, draped it over my legs and up to my neck.

“What else?” he asked.

“Said he wanted me—us—to save him. Find him. Save her.” Stopped for breathing again. This was getting old.

“Find who?” Terric shifted off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of me, then settled there cross-legged.

“What are you doing?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

“Your feet are a bloody mess,” he said. “You showed up on my doorstep with no shirt, no shoes, and looked like you’d walked all the way from the inn to here, barefoot.”

“Did I?”

“You may as well have. Dessa called. She found you at a bar downtown. Brought you here. I’m going to heal your feet.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

He wrapped his hand around my left ankle. I didn’t think I could pull away if I tried.

I tried anyway.

Nope.

“Just tell me what else he said.”

A soft warmth spread out over my foot, which was a far cry better than the pounding ache I’d been unsuccessfully ignoring.

“Anytime now, Flynn,” he said.

Huh. I must have drifted. He set my left foot down carefully, then picked up my right foot by the ankle.

“Said Dessa knows where he is. Knows what’s going on. Said he’s a prisoner. Going to kill everyone. In two days if we don’t find him. Stop him. Save her.”

“Her who?”

Terric put my right foot down, and that lack of pain made me realize how damn exhausted I was. “His soul.”

“Fuck,” Terric breathed. “So he does have a Soul Complement. And they’re using her against him?”

“I think so,” I said. “Or that just might be what he wants us to think.” I wouldn’t put it past Eli Collins to manipulate and use his Soul Complement for whatever dark scheme or experiment he was involved in. “Or maybe he’s telling the truth and someone is using her against him.”

Terric didn’t say anything for a bit. Just sat there, cross-legged, with one hand absently on my bloody bare foot. “Did he say who he’s going to kill?”

I nodded, which sent the room swinging. Not doing that again. “Anyone who stands in their way. All of us. You. Me.”

Terric took a deep breath, let it out.

“So Jeremy is unhappy,” I said.

“He was being an ass. He doesn’t like you,” Terric added. “And he is the least of my problems right now.”

“Am I the most?” I asked, trying to pull together a smile. I wasn’t sure if both sides of my mouth were working.

He looked up at me. “Always.” He shook his head, as if trying to figure me out. “What the hell were you thinking, walking half a city barefoot?”

“I don’t remember. Any of it.” A hard image of blood on my lips flashed through my mind. “Might have hurt people.”

“I already thought of that. Sent people to see if you did any damage. Did he look sane?”

“Collins?”

“Yes.”

“Not really. Desperate and crazy.”

“Not a winning combination,” he said.

“Maybe for him,” I said. If you believed the records on the man, Collins had done a lot of brilliant things while being stark raving mad.

Terric stood. Walked away. By the time I began to wonder where he’d gone, he was walking back, bare feet quiet in the thick carpet.

“Whatever he shot you up with isn’t out of your system yet,” he said. “You want a doctor?”

“Doctors don’t work on me.”

“You’re not inhuman, Shame.”

I didn’t say anything. This was an old argument.

He must not have expected me to say yes to the doctor anyway. He had a pillow in one hand and another blanket in the other. “Then you should get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll take care of . . . whatever needs to be done until morning. You’ve got four hours.”

“Find Dessa,” I started.

“I will.” He set the pillow on one side of me. “Lie down.”

I worked on getting my legs to move. Lifted one with the help of my hands. Then the next. Didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

Just sat there staring at my feet stretched out on the couch in front of me.

Terric bent, putting his mouth near my ear. “Don’t argue and make this harder,” he said. He slid one hand and arm behind my back, and the other under my knees.

I was about to be manhandled. It was as physically close to him as I’d been in years.

I shut my mouth and stared at the ceiling, trying not to say anything, trying not to think anything while he half lifted, half slid me into a prone position.

I couldn’t have done it on my own. Not right away, anyway. He didn’t say any more about it. Didn’t mention how weak and wrecked I was.

Just straightened, retrieved the blanket, spread it out over me. I shivered from the pocket of cold air followed by the warmth of the blanket settling around me.

“I’ll put some water on the table,” he said. “If you need the bathroom, try to wait until morning. I don’t think your feet can take the walk, and there’s enough of your blood on my carpet I have to clean up already.”

His voice was fading. Walking away, I thought. Couldn’t see him. My eyes were closed.

“Ter?” I whispered.

“I’m here.” Close. Sitting in the chair again. I thought I smelled tea.

“Thank you,” I said. “I . . . I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Whatever you’re apologizing about, I won’t accept it until you can tell me in the morning light, looking me straight in the eye.”

“You are a picky bastard,” I mumbled.

“Yes,” he said, “I am.”

And then darkness and warmth swallowed me whole and dragged me down.

“Wake up, Shame,” Terric said. “Time for food.”

What the hell was Terric doing in my room? I opened my eyes.

Correction: what the hell was I doing in Terric’s house?

“French toast, sausage,” he continued. “Think you can eat?”

I lifted a hand, rubbed my face. My arm was sore; the side of my neck felt swollen, bruised. And when I breathed in too deep, something in my chest scraped my bones.

So, not the worst I’d ever woken up feeling.

“Food,” I repeated. “My mouth tastes like ass.”

“Spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Be careful on your feet.”

That brought it all back to me. Or at least the clear images. Half of what I remembered was pain, blurry flashes, and a muddle of sensations and sounds.

“So he drugged me,” I said.

Terric had showered. His hair was still a little damp, combed back, and dripping just a bit on the shoulders of his white T-shirt. He also wore jeans and boots, one ankle propped on his other knee. He was drinking tea from what I knew was very expensive china.