Excerpt: Psalms

“Get cleaned up in here,” I called to Wes, flipping on the bathroom light. I grabbed him a fresh cloth and hand towel from the linen cupboard and tossed them at him. “Ice is in the freezer.”

Clearly, I had missed my true calling as a nurse.

I went to my own room as I heard the bathroom door close. Everything was in the same earthy shades as the living room―Carmen had done all the decorating and I didn’t argue. I sank onto my twin bed and stripped off my coat. Poor black bomber jacket was looking like someone had dropped a few bombs on it. Tears here and there from dealing with the nekros, a few bite marks from Birch, and a whole lot of dirt. With a sigh, I set it aside, then went to easing off my shirt without screaming in agony.

It was bad. I looked down between my breasts at the huge, black-ish purple bruise on my chest―it spread from collarbone to my sternum. The slightest touch to the skin and I hissed in pain.

“What happened?”

Wes was in my doorway. He’d left his jacket somewhere else and strolled in wearing the same shirt he had the night before; dark green with white pinstripes. Whatever he’d been doing, he didn’t come to town with a change of clothes.

“I think I ran into our shaman,” I said. “Which was the real reason why I knew it wasn’t you.”

He stepped softly into the room and sat down next to me. I wanted to yell at him for being in my space, but I didn’t have the fire in me anymore.

“Tell me what you saw?”

“The Shades in the cemetery...there are a lot of them. More than I’ve ever seen. Then this person showed up. Couldn't make out his face. The Shades just flew towards him. Never seen anything like it--they don't do that kind of thing.”

“He attacked you?”

I shrugged, little bits of pain shooting through my muscles. “It was wind. Like he used it to punch me. I couldn’t get off the ground on my own―I’ve never had something like that happen.”

He reached for me and gently pressed his hand to my chest, fingers splayed to cover much of the bruise. “Lay down.”

“I’ll be―” But I was already moving backwards until my back hit the mattress. He moved onto his side so he lay next to me, but kept his hand on the bruise. The slight pressure sent burning pain through me, but his touch was cool, calming, at the same time. I exhaled a deep breath, my eyes fixed on the ceiling because I didn’t know what I’d do if I looked at him. Break down crying seemed high on the list, and that was something I wanted to avoid.

His hand moved between my breasts, over my abdomen, and to my side to trace the skin lightly. “The bruises here?”

“Trying to get away from the nekros last night,” I said. “I think I landed on a soup can.”

“Soup can?”

“Tomato is my guess. No weapons, so I improvised.”

I felt his thumb move toward my hip, over the spot where my favourite tattoo was. An elephant with its trunk up. Supposedly it was good luck, but I didn’t believe it. Wes was with me when I got it and we all know how that turned out.

I felt his hand return to my chest, once more over the ugly bruise, and it remained there for several minutes of silence.

“How did you really know we ran into nekros last might?” I asked at last. “Don’t say you smelled it ‘cause I don’t believe you.”

“You did smell pretty rank, Jade.”

“That’s not how you knew.”

“No.” He put a little more pressure on my chest.

My eyes snapped shut, hot tears gathering in the corners.

“Keep breathing.” He spoke softly, his voice close to my ear, and didn’t lessen the pressure. Then I felt his other hand moving back through my hair, brushing strands away from my face.

“Why are you still in town?” I whispered.

“I can’t get enough of you and your friends beating me?” When I didn’t laugh, his tone sobered. “I have things to take care of.”

“Like?”

“You know I’m not going to tell you.”

“When you go, will the nekros go too?”

Silence. Just the feel of his hand moving through my hair.

“You’re pretty smart, Buttercup.”

“Yeah, now that I’m no longer a blonde,” I said dryly.

He chuckled softly. “Are you relaxed yet?”

“With my feet hanging off the bed?”

I opened my eyes to see him propped up on his elbow, looking down at my legs. “Ah. Good point.”

“I’m fine now, I―”

As I tried to rise, he slid his arm under my back and helped move me to the head of the bed. I lay flat once more, this time with my head on the pillow. Wes stepped away just long enough to flick off the light switch.

“You’re not sleeping in here,” I said as he returned to the bed.

“I know. You’re a blanket hog anyways.”

He stretched out next to me and placed his hand over the bruise again. It didn’t hurt at much this time when he touched me―at least not physically. Emotionally, it was something else entirely. I wanted to know everything. Why he left, why he stole everything, why he showed up again...

“Plus you still smell like zombies.”

I looked at him sharply in the near-darkness to see that familiar grin. He was propped up on his elbow and he hovered over me by a few inches. “You’re starting to overstay your welcome.”

“I didn’t think I was welcome in the first place.”

“Oh, now you figure it out?”

His grin widened and he ran his free hand over my face, catching stray strands of hair, and then moved his fingertips over my scalp.

My heart beat wildly and my mouth felt dry. I hardened myself once more to everything. “Don’t touch me like that.”

“Like?”

“Like I mean something to you.”

His smile fell and expression tightened. One lingering trail of his fingertip along my temple, and then he stopped. “As you wish.”

I closed my eyes again, unable to bear much more of looking at him. The sight of him, smell of him, sound of him, feel of him―everything brought it all back.

Our first kiss, breakfasts in bed, the fights, the standing in the rubble of where we used to live. His hand running through my hair, telling me it would be okay...

It would be easy to give in and trust him. To slip back into things, just for one night. That person I thought was gone―his blonde Buttercup―was still there and she wanted, just once more, for everything to be the way it was.

I remembered all the times we’d made love, and just as that first one came back to me, I remembered the last time. The time when I realized, later, that he must have known he’d take off in the morning, and all that time, he didn’t say anything. He’d kissed me, touched me, brought me panting, sighing to climax, and the whole time he knew. Knew it was the last time. Just like that, old wounds sliced open and bled fresh. Wounds I’d thought were closed, scarred over...wounds I swore I’d moved past.

“I need to get some sleep,” I said coolly.

“Okay.”

The mattress moved as he rose, and when his weight was gone, I felt a little colder.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” I asked. I opened my eyes to see him standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall light.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He turned his head slightly, the light catching his faint grin. “That’s good enough for me.”