LITMIR.BIZ

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take to make Terrible mad. Information Lex could use, a weakness he could exploit—as if he needed another one of those.

      She hadn’t figured out a way to neutralize the sigil carved into Terrible’s chest, and she couldn’t risk just slicing the skin off even if she could stomach the idea. For all she knew, that sigil, the one whose very presence was testimony to her crimes—killing a psychopomp hawk coming to claim his soul, and using her knife to make the sigil itself—was all that actually kept him alive.

      She didn’t regret it. Never could regret it; if she hadn’t done it he’d be dead. But she did wish to hell it hadn’t made him so vulnerable. Passing out in the presence of dark magic was not a good thing, especially not when Lex knew about it.

      Lex indicated one of her lumpy chairs, waving his hand as if he were lord of the manor or something. “Ain’t you wanting to have you a sit-down?”

      “Talk.”

      “Aw, c’mon now, Terrible, ain’t needing to get all fratchy, aye? Let’s us have a real chatter, friendly-like. True thing.”

      Terrible didn’t move. This was not going to go well; Chess knew that, of course, but that stupid hope would never go away, even though she knew how useless it was.

      Lex paused for a second, then shrugged. “Guessing I ain’t gotta give you the knowledge who’s in charge my side now, aye?”

      When Terrible didn’t reply, he continued. “I gots me-self some plans, I do. Changes coming, if you dig me.”

      Great. Why didn’t he just threaten Terrible outright? Despite what some people thought—despite what he himself thought—Terrible wasn’t stupid. Especially not about shit like this.

      She glanced over at him, watching him pull a cigarette from the pocket of his bowling shirt and light it with his black steel lighter. The six-inch flame cast a faint glow that told her maybe turning on some lights would be a good idea. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour or two, no, but … it felt dark in there. Dark like Terrible’s anger, dark like the world. Dark like the emptiness inside her.

      “Big changes. Ain’t having no more game-plays, I ain’t.”

      Smoke drifted into the air in a thin, curling stream, hiding part of Terrible’s face behind it, hiding his expression and thoughts in a fragrant, ever-moving veil.

      Chess knew what he was thinking anyway; she could still feel it throbbing in the air.

      Lex lifted his beer. The smirk had left his face, at least. “Aye, seein you dig. Could use me someone worth trusting, gimme the help-out. Someone make heself more on the money side than he getting now, guessing. Like bein a partner, takin he own piece.”

      Oh no. No, he couldn’t be saying that, could he? How in the hell could he honestly think Terrible would go to work for him—with him?

      Terrible looked as if he had the same thought. His eyes narrowed; his head tilted to the left. Waiting. Watching, that dead-eye glare like a snake about to strike.

      “Thinkin you come on over, do you work for me, aye? What you do now, only my side. With me. Make it all worth up, I will.”

      “No.”

      “Aw, now, why ain’t you giving it a thought, leastaways? Make Tulip happy, ain’t you thinkin? Us not tryna make each others dead, be a cheer-up for her.”

      Just what she wanted. Bring her into the discussion. Remind Terrible that she’d betrayed him, that while he’d thought something was starting between them—while something was starting between them—she’d been running off to spend long sweaty nights in Lex’s bed.

      Not that Terrible would or could ever forget, but still.

      “All knowing nobody beats you, aye? Need me a man like that, make things tight up. Needs a brain, too, which you know you got. You name me a price. True thing, Terrible. Makes me happy, makes you happy, makes Tulip happy. Ain’t that the juice?”

      “No.”

      Lex’s expression didn’t change. He stubbed out his smoke, took another swig from his beer, and set it on the table. “You have you a think on it, aye? Ain’t needing the answer on the now, you gimme the tell on the morrow.”

      Terrible shrugged. “Answer ain’t changin.”

      “Aye? Whyn’t you get the thoughts, anyway, we chatter again.” Lex stood up and started toward the door. Chess and Terrible moved back a few steps into the kitchen so he could get past, but he stopped a foot or so away from them. Almost—but not quite—too close.

      “Oughta give one more thing the mentions here. You ain’t wanna come on with me … means I get on finding one who will, dig, get me a steel-man of my owns. Ain’t sure Downside got size enough for two, aye? Rather not be fighting you causen of Tulip, but … got plans, I do, an I ain’t losing em.”

      Chess closed her eyes. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way she was standing in her own kitchen, listening to Lex threaten Terrible while Terrible’s hand twitched on the back of her neck and anger rolled off him in thick waves.

      When she opened her eyes again, Lex stood by the door. “On the laters, Tulip. Give you a ring-up, I will.”

      What was she supposed to say? Great? Awesome, you do that? She managed to raise her hand in a weak sort of wave before the door closed behind him, leaving Chess alone with Terrible and his rage.

      She didn’t want to look at him. The thought of what she might see in his eyes scared her, and that made her even angrier because she wasn’t supposed to be scared of him, and that scared her even more, and four Cepts had totally not been enough. She’d have to grab another one. Immediately. Five was pushing it, but not beyond the boundary of acceptable.

      But first … time to pay the piper, or take her punishment, or whatever the hell. She glanced up at him, found him staring at the door like he expected it to fly back open and reveal Lex with a loaded gun.

      “Hey, I’m sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t— He was waiting here when I got home, and he said he wanted to talk to you, he wanted me to ask you to talk to him. He didn’t tell me why or what he wanted.”

      His hand left her neck, leaving her skin cold and oddly light, missing its warm weight. She watched him pull his bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet and down a couple of swigs. Watched him grab a beer out of the fridge, stride past her to the couch—the other side from where Lex had sat—and chase the shots with almost half the bottle. Shit. Of course he drank—who the fuck didn’t?—but not like that, not usually. Not like he was trying to drown something out, forget it, get rid of it, hide it under an ocean of booze until no one even knew it had been there.

      Not like … well, not like her.

      What was she supposed to do? She’d already apologized. She’d explained. He wasn’t responding. Damn it, she wasn’t good at this, didn’t have any experience with this. She’d never even dated someone for more than a single night, at least not before Lex came along, and they’d never really gotten mad at each other because their relationship didn’t matter enough to bother getting mad over. So what the hell was her reaction supposed to be?

      Whatever it was, she guessed standing there staring at him wasn’t it. She dug in her bag for another pill and forced it down without water while she sat next to him. Not touching him—that might not be a good idea—but close to him, so the heat from his leg brushed against hers.

      “So I know that probably wasn’t what you wanted to deal with right when you walked—”

      “He got the truth?”

      “What?”

      He lit another cigarette off the butt of the first one. His eyes stayed focused on the stained-glass window. “He got the truth. That what you’re wanting? Me with him?”

      “What—no, no, I mean, I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

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