Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 154735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
The solitude was a double-edged sword, however. He’d always had a personal shopper before, and as he proceeded around to the base of the escalator, he hated the inefficiency of having to find the men’s department and weed through the merchandise himself—
Lash stopped. Rubbed his eyes. Wondered if he were seeing things.
About twenty feet away, standing underneath the silver Gucci header, a very familiar brunette in a black bodysuit and high heels was staring through a chained barrier at a display of floral purses with the iconic red and green striping.
“What the hell are you doing here,” he demanded.
* * *
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Nate said as he shoved a branch to the side and then let it go.
Walking behind the guy, Shuli defended his face against a slap he probably could have used; then he put his hands in the pockets of his ruined suede pants and wished he weren’t wearing them. They were the cut-glass of bottoms, the kind of thing that had to be treated with care. Moisture, dirt, rough handling?
A hike out of the woods with your good buddy who’d managed to throw off a gunshot wound to the brain like a head cold?
More than they could handle.
He knew how they felt. He was ruined, too, and no amount of dry-cleaning was going to save him, either.
On that note, he glanced at the back of Nate’s head again. Everything was fine and dandy, the catastrophic injury all bye-bye, never-been, a-okay.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here,” he muttered.
As they continued through the trees, Shuli marveled how they could be so close to a suburban neighborhood and yet feel like they were in the middle of the Adirondack Park, miles away from anything civilized. Although he supposed he could have currently been in a mall at Christmastime and felt totally isolated.
“It’s hard to explain,” Nate said eventually.
No shit, Shuli thought.
“That night after what went down at Dandelion…” Nate held another branch off, this time waiting until Shuli took hold of it before continuing. “I was revived.”
“Back at the clinic, yeah. It was a miracle.”
“Literally.” In the moonlight, the guy’s shoulders lifted in a shrug underneath his SUNY Caldwell hoodie. “I’m not supposed to be here at all. She brought me back. And now things are… different.”
There was no reason to ask for a clarification on who the “she” was. The tone alone said it was Rahvyn—and on the subject of “brought back,” Shuli had assumed things had been more along the lines of CPR, just-in-time, conventional revival stuff.
Not… whatever the hell made you immortal, or some shit.
As they came up to the shed that camo’d the escape route out of Nate’s house, Shuli hung back. “I left my car at your place.”
“So come on.” Nate indicated the door. “I have to go to work anyway. I’m late.”
The guy still had the same wholesome looks, all that boy-next-door handsome definitely the type for a certain kind of female or woman, the eyes clear and blue, the face nice and regular, the hair cut for practicality rather than style. The sweatshirt and jeans were Nate’s regular Joe Schmo uniform, too, comfortable and casual, yet emphasizing his big build.
But the vibe was dark as a black cape and a vendetta against a hero.
“What?” Nate said.
“Did you know that was going to…” Shuli motioned lamely up around his own head. “Did you know that was going to fix itself.”
Not a question. Nope, that was a demand, because he had to understand—because the implications were mind-blowing. In a way that wasn’t bullet-driven, but might as well have been.
“I told you,” Nate countered calmly. “I needed to know how far it went.”
“What if it hadn’t—what if you had…”
“Then I would have known the answer.”
The logical way the response was framed was so chilling, Shuli felt compelled to spell everything out in words of one syllable.
So he did: “But you’da been dead.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” The guy nodded to the entrance of the shed. “You coming with?”
Shuli reached out and put his hand on a heavy shoulder. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“Of course I do. Why do you think I cleaned my room before I came out here?”
“You honestly believe that is what we would have all cared about? That your clothes were fucking folded and your bed made?”
“Hung.”
“What?”
“I like to hang my clothes. Not fold them.”
Shuli rubbed his face, and entertained the idea that this might be some kind of fucked-up dream. But then he dropped his arms… and nothing was any different. They were still out in the woods, and the little word volley was still in the air between them.
“Nate. What the fuck has gotten into you—and please. Don’t bullshit me. You need to be alarmed by all of this, and instead, you’re…”
“What am I alarmed by.” An eyebrow raised. “Tell me.”