or was just covering for herself. It wasn’t until I was outside in the humid night that I realized I had no way of getting home except walking.
“Fucking hell.” I kicked the wall of the building, ignoring the Voice as it laughed gleefully at me. I really couldn’t think of anything I wanted less right now than to walk the good hour’s walk from here to my house. I rooted through my pockets and came up with enough money for a bus. If buses ran at this time of night, which knowing my luck they wouldn’t.
I should have just fucked Anna when she offered. At least then I’d have a bed for the night.
* * * *
Mutt greeted me like I’d been gone for years. I knelt down in the hall to return the affection, letting him wash my face with doggy kisses. “It’s been a weird night,” I told him. “Girl trouble, you know?”
We settled down on the sofa and I automatically began flicking through the shopping channels, trying to numb my brain with infomercials. My protein shakes and coleslaw maker had yet to arrive, which I figured meant I hadn’t technically paid for them yet, so I bought myself a steam cleaner that a Stepford Wife-type presenter promised would revolutionize the way I cleaned my carpets.
“So if you do crap on the carpets, it won’t matter,” I told Mutt. “Don’t say I never give you anything.”
It was after eleven pm, and I felt bone-tired. I thought about dragging my ass up to bed, but rejected the idea with a shudder, remembering last night’s dreams. No, I wasn’t ready for bed yet.
I rolled a cigarette and ran through the night’s events, trying to create some kind of order from them. Mostly my mind kept coming back to Anna soaking wet in the bathtub, but I pushed that image aside for later. Walker Moss was an issue too, but again I figured he could wait. It wasn’t my business, after all. None of the girls at Hush suffered as far as I saw. Maybe not everybody was prone to obsession after sex with an incubus? Maybe Rhian, already unhappy and vulnerable, was the exception, not the rule .
Either way, as creepy and wrong as Moss’s set up was, it wasn’t relevant to me right now. Basically, the only thing I’d really learned tonight was that I wanted to speak to Tamsin Searle, and that Anna looked good in a wet blouse.
I checked my phone in case Baxter had called, but there was nothing. I smoked a couple more cigarettes, drank a couple of extra-strong coffees and watched a terrible made-for-TV movie about a sexy young couple who traveled to France and got caught up in some sexy adventures with a sexy farmhand. Or something, I don’t know. I just didn’t want to go to sleep. The Voice was waiting.
Mutt fell asleep with his head in my lap. His paws twitched as he chased dream-rabbits. I stroked his wiry fur and stared out the window, watching the occasional car roll quietly past in a blur of headlights. I was so tired. My head pounded and my eyes ached, but I felt too scared to close them. My dreams weren’t going to be as fun as Mutt’s. The Voice promised me that.
“ You think it’s been bad before? I’m going to take you to hell.”
I rubbed my eyes and wondered if a shot of whiskey would help. Probably not, but I had one anyway. Then another for good luck. By now, it was well past midnight, the sky outside turned slate-gray with misty yellow streaks, and I wanted to pass out more than anything in the world. So I had another whiskey.
After the third shot, I couldn’t stay sitting down anymore. My legs twitched and itched, and I paced the living room, rubbing my burning eyes and muttering to myself to block out the Voice’s whisperings.
“ Lie down. Close your eyes. Sleep. Dream. Scream.”
“ No,” I grated. I could make it for a few more hours. I was due back at the Overture Church early this afternoon. After that–if Crane comes through for me–I might be free of the Voice. Then I can sleep all I want, but now, no, no way . I could make it through the night and
“Fucking hell.” I kicked the wall of the building, ignoring the Voice as it laughed gleefully at me. I really couldn’t think of anything I wanted less right now than to walk the good hour’s walk from here to my house. I rooted through my pockets and came up with enough money for a bus. If buses ran at this time of night, which knowing my luck they wouldn’t.
I should have just fucked Anna when she offered. At least then I’d have a bed for the night.
* * * *
Mutt greeted me like I’d been gone for years. I knelt down in the hall to return the affection, letting him wash my face with doggy kisses. “It’s been a weird night,” I told him. “Girl trouble, you know?”
We settled down on the sofa and I automatically began flicking through the shopping channels, trying to numb my brain with infomercials. My protein shakes and coleslaw maker had yet to arrive, which I figured meant I hadn’t technically paid for them yet, so I bought myself a steam cleaner that a Stepford Wife-type presenter promised would revolutionize the way I cleaned my carpets.
“So if you do crap on the carpets, it won’t matter,” I told Mutt. “Don’t say I never give you anything.”
It was after eleven pm, and I felt bone-tired. I thought about dragging my ass up to bed, but rejected the idea with a shudder, remembering last night’s dreams. No, I wasn’t ready for bed yet.
I rolled a cigarette and ran through the night’s events, trying to create some kind of order from them. Mostly my mind kept coming back to Anna soaking wet in the bathtub, but I pushed that image aside for later. Walker Moss was an issue too, but again I figured he could wait. It wasn’t my business, after all. None of the girls at Hush suffered as far as I saw. Maybe not everybody was prone to obsession after sex with an incubus? Maybe Rhian, already unhappy and vulnerable, was the exception, not the rule .
Either way, as creepy and wrong as Moss’s set up was, it wasn’t relevant to me right now. Basically, the only thing I’d really learned tonight was that I wanted to speak to Tamsin Searle, and that Anna looked good in a wet blouse.
I checked my phone in case Baxter had called, but there was nothing. I smoked a couple more cigarettes, drank a couple of extra-strong coffees and watched a terrible made-for-TV movie about a sexy young couple who traveled to France and got caught up in some sexy adventures with a sexy farmhand. Or something, I don’t know. I just didn’t want to go to sleep. The Voice was waiting.
Mutt fell asleep with his head in my lap. His paws twitched as he chased dream-rabbits. I stroked his wiry fur and stared out the window, watching the occasional car roll quietly past in a blur of headlights. I was so tired. My head pounded and my eyes ached, but I felt too scared to close them. My dreams weren’t going to be as fun as Mutt’s. The Voice promised me that.
“ You think it’s been bad before? I’m going to take you to hell.”
I rubbed my eyes and wondered if a shot of whiskey would help. Probably not, but I had one anyway. Then another for good luck. By now, it was well past midnight, the sky outside turned slate-gray with misty yellow streaks, and I wanted to pass out more than anything in the world. So I had another whiskey.
After the third shot, I couldn’t stay sitting down anymore. My legs twitched and itched, and I paced the living room, rubbing my burning eyes and muttering to myself to block out the Voice’s whisperings.
“ Lie down. Close your eyes. Sleep. Dream. Scream.”
“ No,” I grated. I could make it for a few more hours. I was due back at the Overture Church early this afternoon. After that–if Crane comes through for me–I might be free of the Voice. Then I can sleep all I want, but now, no, no way . I could make it through the night and
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