Page 119 of Remnants: Disruption
“The fuck—“
It’s the final straw, and I feel rage rear its ugly head.
“You’re fucking jealous?” I scoff. “Is that it? I stop trying to get your attention because someone’s shown me more kindness than I’ve ever experienced in my entire fucking life and you have the gall to bejealous?”
I step forward, getting directly into Mary’s space–and, to her credit, she doesn’t back up.
“I would like to know who it is that is distracting you from your–”
The front porch explodes into shadow, bathing us in inky nothingness. Mary’s eyes illuminate orange, then red.
The red brightens, becoming incandescent.
We stand there, suspended in an ageless battle of wills.
Until I let the darkness drop, allowing the artificial lights to once again make their presence known.
“I’ve been fucking practicing. Can’t believe you’d act like this after seeing mejustyesterday.”
Only now does Mary look a bit loss for words. “I did not–”
I dig the knife deeper.
“And, for the record, that’s Marla. She lives with herwife, and theirthree-year old daughter,” I enunciate each detail. “They’ve been treating me to family dinners and tales of their lives in exchange for me giving me a fucking will to live. No thanks to you.”
She looks like I physically hit her, but even with the way I feel, I’d never lay a hand on her. Not intentionally, at least.
“Who are they?” She whispers, and I nearly let the anger fizzle at the morose expression on her lovely face.
“Voltox,” I say, and when she doesn’t react, I continue. “Fox people. They’re normal and I like them. A lot. I’ve started to get to know the people here. The ones that aren’t–”
I gesture at her, and it looks like she might be sick.
Which is an odd reaction, since she seems so bound and determined to make herself out to be this figure of legend.
I turn to go back inside, but delicate fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me back to her.
She’s insanely strong. I can match her siphon, but there’s far, far more to Bloody Mary, and maybe I should be more afraid, like Marla is.
“I–” she lets out, not letting go of my wrist. Her throat bobs. “I just needed to know you were okay after yesterday. I’m sorry.”
I frown, but don’t say anything. The spicy perfume she wears hits me like a train, and I have the insane desire to lean in and kiss her.
“I’m glad you’ve made friends,” she says, nodding quickly as if convincing herself. “Please offer my apologies to Marla and her wife.”
“Maybe you should,” I say, and, to my near horror, Mary’s eyes drop. She looks downright ashamed.
And there’s something else, too.
Something darker, maybe. Something far, far softer and dangerously vulnerable below the surface.
“You’re right,” she says, eyes not raising to meet mine. “And then I will take my leave.”
Mary moves past me, releasing my wrist.
She knocks on the door, and it opens immediately.
Marla lets out a yip, but leaves the door open a crack.
