Page 42 of Because I Killed Him
SECTION 8: FORMAL AGREEMENTS
CHAPTER 8
Even amid the echoing shrieks from the salons around us, I’m sure we’re not under attack. If we were, the Border Watch would’ve dispatched more than a single patrol squadron. But if it wasn’t an attack, what hit the shield?
I grab the window ledge and pull myself up. My breath comes in short gasps as I stagger toward the table, where Charlotte slumps in a chair. Jack leans over her arm, checking for a sting.
“You hurt?” he asks.
“No.” She yanks her arm back.
Jack’s sigh of relief only seems to anger her more. Charlotte brushes past him and stomps to the other end of the table, just as Dickie, still trembling, knocks over the vase of hydrangeas.
A gruff voice from the overhead speakers breaks the silence.
“Attention all passengers. This is Lieutenant James Percy. The Border Watch confirms the shield was struck by lightning due to a malfunction in the rod arrays.”
Charlotte and I exchange a look of relief.
“In the event of further strikes, we are advised to maintain speed. Until we reach Grandmaster University, all uninjured passengers must remainseated. Should you require medical attention, dial 43-711, and a paramedic will be dispatched to your carriage. I thank you in advance for your civilized cooperation. May you always be virtuous.”
The Copper switches to the Big Band Beats radio station. Smooth jazz flows through the room, contrasting with the chaos in the lavatory, where Edmund is bent over the sink, water blasting out, veins bulging, teeth chattering, his fists slamming water into his face.
Dickie offers a towel. Jack grabs a champagne chiller from the table and brings it over. Edmund seizes the bottle, pours the champagne into his mouth, then dumps the ice bucket over his head. Water drips down his trousers, splashing around his boots. He grips the sink’s edges, knuckles white, straining so hard the fixture groans as if it’s about to break free from the wall.
“You doing all right, Ed?” Jack asks.
Edmund blows out a spray of water through clenched teeth.
“Hm… looks bad, I’d say.” Dickie leans in, squinting at the angry red deathstalker sting on Edmund’s forearm. “Can’t be worse than when I shot you with that taser, though.”
“At least then I was drunk,” Edmund says, pushing off the sink. Water zigzags across the carpet from his soaked clothes and dripping hair. He scrubs the towel over his head and stalks out of the lavatory, collapsing into a chair with his legs splayed wide.
I edge closer, staring in disbelief. “You werestung.”
Edmund’s fingers tighten around the towel. “And?”
“And that means we won.”
He yanks the towel off his head so fast it cracks the air like a whip. Jack lets out a dry laugh. Dickie throws up his hands.
“Um, hello?” Dickie says. “Did you forget the part where the train almost got knocked out of the sky?”
“The lightning strike counts as interference, darling,” Jack says. “Which means no deal.”
Edmund’s chair screeches as he stands. He towers over me like a rearing stallion, eyes bright, jaw tense. “Do you intend to win through dishonorable means, Miss Waldsten?”
“Drop it, Lore,” Charlotte says, her voice prickling with warning.
She grabs my waist from behind, but I break free. Interference or not, I’m not surrendering this win, especially when it’s my only shot at saving Jane.
“It was not Miss Deering and me who suggested the challenge during a storm,” I tell Edmund. “Youdid. That means you accepted the risk of sudden, loud noises that might provoke a sting.”
Edmund lifts his chin as if recalling the moment. The muscles in his face bunch up, pulling at the cut above his eyebrow.
“There was a storm,” he says slowly. “But no lightning or thunder. Not until now.”
Liar. I remember it clearly—the flash, the boom—right as Jack poured the shots.
