A dance with devils lies.., p.15
A Dance With Devils: Lies And Truths Trilogy Book 1, page 15
“Canada.”
She sips her coffee. “What?”
“We’re in Canada.”
“Oh. I’ve never been. Have now. Wrists?”
My lips quirk, eyes even managing to smile a little. “You talk a lot.”
“You, it appears, do not. Try it.”
Picking my coffee up, I consider the possibility of it. Never have done. Not with anyone, my bitch of a wife included. She didn’t even ask when I did it last time. She laughed, as I kept tossing more pills into my mouth. And then she danced for me, making sure that image would be the last thing on my mind as I left this fucking planet. I don’t remember much after that, but I do remember it being Gray that was over me when I came back. He said it was lucky he was here, even luckier that my body coped with the carnage I’d created for it. Nothing felt lucky. Lucky would have been not coming back at all. I didn’t see her for a week after that.
And then our marriage carried on without us even discussing it.
“I’ll need more for those types of conversations,” labours out of me.
“More coffee? Or more skin?” she asks, smiling for some reason.
“Skin.”
A few minutes goes by, as she keeps staring at me, scooping eggs benedict into her mouth, and drinking her coffee. It's long enough that she eventually puts the coffee down and starts refilling the cup. “Alright, Malachi. We’ll bargain for it. You get a bit, I get a bit. Tit for tat. I’m sure fucking you won’t be too much of a hardship. But honesty, yes?”
My smile, the one that’s crept ever closer since this curious conversation started, widens. “That could be the most unwise condition you’ve ever set in your life.”
She nods and sits back again, rolling her shoulders around as if she’s considered every connotation of sex that might happen with this sort of bargain in place. A low chuckle falls from me, my own frame relaxing, as I stare over my coffee. Tit for tat.
“First things first, though. I need to call home,” she says.
I take a sip of coffee at that, considering her feelings. Siblings are presumably important to those that have some. And maybe I should thank Gray because it looks like I’ve got a new game to play. It won’t work. Nothing ever does. I’ll still be me, and she’ll still not really understand who that is. I’m not even sure I want her to. But it’s a new thing to discover - a new bargain to strike. Interesting at least.
Novel, regardless of useless.
The thought makes me consider little red pills rather than the fun she’s after, more of them, lots of them, and then I get my phone out of my pocket anyway. What does it matter for a while longer? If calling home is what she needs to keep me entertained until I’m done again, phoning home is what she can have.
Chapter 19
Ally
I ’m listening to Brandon talk on loudspeaker, and yet still looking at Malachi so I can think about whatever bargain I’ve just struck. I’m an idiot. I don’t even know why I did it, but I could feel the sadness ebbing away the more I kept rambling. Whether that was ebbing out of me, or him, or both of us, I’m still unclear about, but this smile he’s now got on his face, the one that tells me I’ve probably just made the stupidest mistake of my life, is still better than the gloom that was here.
“And you’ve got food in?” I ask Brandon. Malachi laughs. I don’t know why. It’s a serious question where my brothers are concerned.
“For fuck’s sake, Ally. Yes. We’re not kids.” They are to me. I pout and take a sip of the coffee, still eyeing Mr tormented and delicious over it in case he makes a move suddenly. “We’re fine. Has that dick touched you?”
“Yes, he has,” Malachi says.
My eyes roll. Fucking stupid.
“No, he hasn’t, Brandon.” Not really anyway. Or not that I can remember clearly. Whatever. “And even if he had, I’m a grown ass woman. I’ll make my own choices.”
“You should come back.”
“What, and miss all this? I’m in a castle in-“ Malachi’s finger goes up sharply, wiggling it back and forth as if I’m not allowed to say where I am. “Anyway, it’s lovely.” Kind of. Not actually, but I can hardly explain that rationally. “And I’m relaxing. You’re both okay, though? Nothing for me to worry about?”
“We’re at Whit’s mostly. Stayed there most nights.” Nights? How long have I been here? My hand rubs my foot, unsure why there’s black stuff all over the bottom of it. “And he’s keeping us busy. Got a car off Redin and sixth last night and-“
“La, la, la, la,” I cut across him. I don’t want to know about anything Whit gets up to unless it’s protecting us from shit we’re still running from.
He chuckles a little. “We’re fine, Ally.”
“Make sure Brett goes to school.”
“Yeah. Will do.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
My frown drops, eyes now looking at the phone rather than Malachi. “You’re sure you’re okay?” The phone is slowly taken off the table, long fingers pulling it back towards him. “Brandon? I love you. Be good, yes?”
I’m still looking at the phone, as those fingers wrap around it and hover over the pad. “Okay, Ally. Stay safe. See you soon.”
Before I can get another damn word out of my mouth, Malachi ends the call for me.
My eyes snap up to his.
“Safe. Interesting word,” he says, smiling. “Are you still hungry?” I’m too busy wondering why he’s rolling his sleeves up to consider whether I’m hungry or not. “And who goes first in this tit for tat game of yours?”
“Yes, I’m still hungry.”
I’m not that I can feel, but the question, or my lack of preparation for what’s coming next, makes me say the only thing I can think of to give me a little more time to acclimatise to my reckless plan to get home.
“Beg for it.”
“What?”
“Hands and knees. And beg. I’ve decided I’m going first.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I rarely joke about fucking.”
“I am doing this to help you, you know? I could have just left and-”
“It’s very kind of you.” He smirks and leans back, shifting his weight so he can get to his belt. I watch it being pulled through the buckle, the top button flicked and zipper pulled down.
“I’m not sucking dick and begging. That’s two things.” I stand and look around the room, attempting inspiration. There isn’t anything but old books and old things and old dust. “Tit for tat is one thing, and then there’s reciprocation. Where are the kitchens?”
I’m walking out and doing up my robe again before he can answer, looking left and right, as I try to remember anything about this place. Nothing comes all that quickly, but I do seem to remember a cupboard and the smell of food wafting around. I could use a shower, too, if I’m honest. And some clothes. Although, clothes do seem to be a moot point around here.
The feel of something hard and heavy on my back happens too fast for me to avoid, and before I’ve got any balance at all I’m turned, pinned to the wall and being hoisted upwards. The weight of him, and the fact that all I can feel is very real, solid muscle up against me, makes me gasp in a breath. So big. And dense. And too much for me to even contemplate without some readiness. But all I’ve got is waiting. Waiting and watching as he stares at my face.
“Are you going to fix me, little Alice?”
“I … I don’t …”
“You’ll lose. It won’t work. Nothing ever does.”
So close. And fuck, he smells good. All spice and aggravation. I can feel his dick between us, feel the buckle of his open belt scratching at my stomach. I squirm, then still as I watch that face light up at my sign of weakness. “Food, Malachi. Then tit for tat. And a shower.”
The weight of him continues, his face moving in closer until he’s mouthing around my neck and making me feel all kinds of sensations that I can’t remember feeling in too long. I sigh and balance my hands on his shoulders, almost ready to just let him get on with whatever he wants and forget this little plan of mine.
Footsteps bring me back to the moment. My head lolls sideways, eyes taking in the male form walking towards us. Tall, handsome. Suit. More dark everything. I vaguely remember him from somewhere, or maybe I don’t.
My hand goes to my lips, as if there’s a latent memory of him there for some reason.
He stops and looks us over, less than no interest on show, and then turns and goes again.
“Gray?” Malachi says, still with his head in my neck and chest. The footsteps stop again. “Thank you for trying.” I don’t know why he’s thanking him, but the man – Gray – nods and starts moving again. And then the footsteps are gone and it’s nothing but air and us.
“I want my shower,” snips out of me, as he crawls around my neck again.
“Showers are good. Showers mask the blood.” I’m not sure I heard that right. Maybe it was the muffled sound of his voice as he keeps kissing my neck, throat, and jugular. If I did hear it right, though, it’s more worrying than I’m willing to accept at the moment. “Not that there’s any point in this. But you trying helps. Run, Alice.”
I shift, pitch, turn and struggle until I manage to get myself on the floor and he’s glaring at me. I should probably care about that – I don’t. I turn and run instead, heading for the stairs I vaguely remember here. There must be a shower in one of the bedrooms, and maybe after that I can run for a dining room – hope dinner gets served somehow.
I giggle, as I’m running, hand grabbing hold of the bannister the moment I eventually find it and legs powering me up the huge sweeping cascade of steps. I don’t even know why I’m giggling. Perhaps I’m going a bit mad in this place. Who knows? Or cares? All I need to do is get this little bargain I’ve struck over and done with and then I can go home. At least, as Whit said, I’ve got a bit of respite here. If that’s what these strange antics could be described as. And Malachi is hot. Freaky hot, but hot nonetheless.
My body banks right for the first door I see, fingers reaching for the doorknob.
“Gray’s room,” calls behind me from the bottom of the stairs. “I really wouldn’t, little Alice.”
Maybe not then.
I keep moving, eyes glancing at any door that might look useful, and eventually turn into the last one on the left. A puff of air comes back at me the moment I push the door inwards, stale old air filtering back at me. I stare, take in the opulent room that looks like it’s as stuck in time as the room downstairs was. I freeze to the spot at the look of it, automatically jumping to the conclusion that I’ve managed to arrive in his grandfather’s bedroom. Or suite considering all the doors off it.
“Interesting choice,” Malachi murmurs.
I spin and stare at him, unsure what to do. Old seems to mean sad for him, but it also seems to mean honesty rather than games. “It’s lovely.”
“Mmm. My grandmother had good taste.”
“How does it make you feel?”
“What?”
“The room? Sad, happy, indifferent?” I watch him look around it, my own feelings trying to tune into him like I did earlier somehow. Nothing really comes. It’s like the feelings have ebbed away somehow, changed. “I can’t quite feel you like I did. Not as much anyway. And this is about feelings, Malachi. Being honest.”
He moves to the large, ornately carved bed draped in gold and black satin and tosses a small pouch on it. “You’ll need more pills for that. They’re wearing off. There’s only one that doesn’t.”
I look at the pouch, uncomfortable with taking any more of them at all. Things turned strange when I took them. Everything distorted and became a cloud of falsehood and … panic, I think. I don’t really know what it all became, mainly because I can’t remember much of it but I ran, I know that much. I ran and I was scared. I can feel that inside me still, just like I can still feel traces of him with me while it happened.
“What happens if we don’t take them?”
He looks at his bandaged wrists. Stares at the seeping blood for minutes as if it means something other than just the obvious slice beneath it. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “But I’m still an asshole without them. Worse probably. Don’t take the red ones, little Alice. They’re not for you.”
A few more minutes watching him calmly stare out the window and I head for a door on the left, hoping it’s a bathroom. It is. And not only is it a bathroom, it’s the most lavish bathroom I’ve ever seen. Huge swathes of marble line the walls, black lines cutting through the dark green colour. I reach my hand into the oversized shower, turning the knob round and round until a flow of dark brown water starts coming out of it.
It eventually clears and steam begins filling the room. That’s good enough for me. I lock the door quickly and discard this underwear, not entirely sure what the hell I’m going to wear afterwards but not caring about that yet. I need to be clean. Revived even. Maybe then I can see light at the end of the tunnel, find a way of helping in the hope of clearing this conscience that still bites in.
My head shakes as I get in the torrent of pummelling water, hands sluicing the hot water over every inch of me and my hair. It isn’t until I’m almost done that I realise I’m not alone. I jump at the sensation, eyes opening quickly, and I find him standing at the other end of the cubicle fully dressed. Water soaks his clothes and skin. Even his boots are still on his feet, those completely drenched, too.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, trying to cover myself.
“Watching.”
“Fully dressed? And how did you even get in?”
He holds up a thin letter opener, the silver knife-like instrument glinting under the lights. My eyes flash to the bandage on his wrist, and then back to the face that seems as if he’s miles away rather than here watching me. “Misspent youth,” he says. “Misspent fucking life.”
He’s blank again. Quiet. I move slowly, gently, my fingers reaching for the silver in his hand until I’ve got it in my grasp. Not again. I’m not watching it again. Can’t. Visions of lank, dark brown hair fill my thoughts, my mother’s eyes staring as blankly as his are now.
“Malachi?” Eyelashes blink slowly, the water on his brow dripping downwards to the crease of the frown he’s wearing. “Can I have this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I move closer, body weaving until it’s got his attention. My other hand brushes over his chest, fingers firm on the water soaked ridges of his body, until I’m within a hair’s breadth of him.
“What do you need?” He blinks again, the hand holding the letter opener dropping down to the side of us. “Anything? What can I help you with?”
“You’re not scared of me,” he murmurs. What does that mean? “Pretty little Alice with her rainbows of colours. Live, little Alice. No more running. You’re safe now. Stay. Here will protect you.” His whole body suddenly drops down to the shower floor, the crashing sound making me jump and go down with him. My fingers sweep through his hair and then tug it so I can see his eyes. They’re fixed on the side wall of glass, almost as if he’s dead. My hand scatters over his frame, up to his neck just as quickly to search for a pulse. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but the very real notion that I can’t deal with this alone sinks into the pit of my stomach.
I heave him, making sure his head is out of the way of the water collecting, and then run into the room and grab a blanket as I go. I’m out the door and running down the corridors in search of someone before I know what I’m doing, tucking the blanket around me as best as I can.
“HELP!” shouts out of me, as I skirt around the balcony and head for the stairs. They're nothing but empty and desolate again. No people. No maids. No help at all. Where’s that man gone? The one Malachi thanked? “GRAY?” screams out of me. I call it again, and again, as I duck into rooms and eventually get to the room that Malachi said was his.
My hand reaches for the doorknob, fingers turning it before I care to think about what I might find inside. The sight that greets me is all half naked male and fierce eyes. He looks me over, not even a sense of surprise on his face.
“HELP ME!” shouts out again, as my body turns from the room for him to follow. I’m half way along the hall before I realise he isn’t doing. I swing back until I’m back in his room and this time physically grab his arm. “Malachi. Please, Gray.”
“The hell are you talking about?” he snaps, pulling his arm away.
“He’s … I don’t know. Come with me. Please. I think … He’s not moving.”
His face suddenly goes as grey as his name suggests, and he moves quickly to one of the closets and pulls out a bag.
“Go!” he shouts. “Show me.”
Within seconds we’re back in the shower room and he’s heaving Malachi’s body fully out of the cubicle. He pulls up his eyelids, checks for a pulse, opens his mouth and looks inside it, and then starts looking in his bag for something.
“Is he …” I stutter around the words, body folding backwards to the wall and all those fucking memories coming back to claw they’re way through me. Oh god. Not again.
I can’t see this again.
“Alice?” Was that meant for me? I glance at him, watching as he holds a hand out for me and tries to get me to do something, and then look back at the wall of black clothed, lifeless muscle. “What did he take? How many, the colours?"
"I don't know. They're on the bed and he just … he just said not to take the red ones and then I came in here for a shower and-"
"Kneel down under his head, hold it in your hands.” I can’t. I’m frozen to this spot, unable to see anything past this dark hair and dead eyes. It’s so sad. So wretched and mournful. I can feel it inside me, as all the memories come racing back. Blood and tears, childhood dreams shattered.
"ALICE!” My gaze snaps back to him, mouth shuddering and shivering around my choked sobs and panic. “I need your help. Move.”
My knees fold downwards at the tone of his stern voice, hands crawling me to where he said so I can lift another lifeless thing into my grip. He’s so heavy. So fucking heavy and so fucking dead. Tears flood from my eyes, clogging my throat up at the same time. They shouldn’t. He’s no one to me. Just a man. But I can feel it all. Even hear his voice still. And lightning bolts. I remember them now – remember the way they echoed off his body as we ran.
