Read Online The Last Twilight by Marjorie M. Liu - Free Book Online Page B

Calculated. Larry accused her of having a death wish, but that was a lie. Rikki was not against help. The right kind. Whatever that was. Something she had not found yet. No good hands she could trust.
    She peered at Amiri, peripherally. He lay on his back, hands clasped over his stomach. She remembered his naked body, the lines of his back. How he had given her what she needed, without asking.
    She tilted her head so that she could see his eyes. “It’s been a long time since Larry insisted on protection.”
    Amiri studied her openly, with a precision and depth that was startling, even intimate. “I suppose he trusted you to handle yourself.”
    He said it like he meant it, which made Rikki smile, somewhat bitterly. “No. Never.”
    “But—”
    “A girl can only change the man-diapers for so long before it’s time to send the gun-toting behemoths home to their mommies,” Rikki interrupted smoothly. “Bunch of whiners. I’m sure you won’t be like that.”
    “I would hardly dare,” he said. “Though I suppose if we should both begin to die, you might make an allowance for a complaint or two. Rest assured, I will change my own diapers.”
    “Fantastic,” Rikki muttered, and closed her eyes. Cot springs creaked. She imagined Amiri, long and lean and hard. Graceful. Wild.
    Enough. She tried to ignore his presence. Listened to everything but her thoughts: bullets, blood, combustible crocodiles; the liquefaction of her vital organs; the sight, imagined or otherwise, of a man’s eyes glowing in the night.
    Sounds from outside the tent were muffled. Like being in a plastic cocoon or a bright wide coffin. Another kind of prison. It reminded Rikki of her father and the old trailer park. The hospital in Johannesburg and those nurses with their pious pity and cold hands. For the first time in years she wanted a cigarette.
    She fell asleep. When she woke, groggy and uneasy, Mack was in the room. Big man in his protective gear, sealed tight as a mummy. Ruth was with him. She took Rikki’s blood pressure while Mack attempted to stick a needle into Amiri. The man resisted. Firm, but gentle.
    “I do not want my blood drawn,” he said.
    “We need to,” Max replied.
    “You are mistaken.”
    “Are you a doctor?”
    “I am a man of common sense,” Amiri told him, dryly. “And whether I live or die cannot possibly depend on what your test tells you. There is no cure.”
    Mack said nothing. He grabbed Amiri’s arm, attempting to hold him down. Like trying to restrain water; the other man slipped out of his grasp, eyes narrowed. “Do not.”
    “Come on. It won’t hurt.” His tone was all Mr. Doctor, patronizing, as though talking to a child. Rikki wanted to shake her head in shame. That, and hold on tight. Looking at Amiri—right then—felt like a hurricane coming, and she watched him give Mack a long hard stare of withering disdain. But her colleague was an idiot. He reached out again. Confident, self-assured.
    Amiri slapped his hand away so hard the sound was like a gunshot. Ruth flinched, eyes wide behind her goggles. Rikki tried to control her own face. No emotion. Just anticipation. She knew the strength in those arms, and that had not been a gentle blow.
    “You asshole,” Mack breathed, as the skin above his surgical mask mottled scarlet. Amiri’s expression never changed, not even slightly. Carved in stone. But the look in his eyes was worse than the mouth of the crocodile: sharp, chilling, deadly. But still calm. Still a gentleman— in the most brutal, effective, way possible.
    “Next time I will break you,” Amiri said.
    Mack swayed, his hand cradled to his chest. His breathing was loud, his eyes narrowed. The syringe lay on the ground between them. “Fuck you. All of you and your damn beliefs. Primitive, superstitious—”
    “Mack.” Rikki did not raise her voice, but it was enough.
    His mouth snapped shut. He turned on her, staring. “This man needs the test. You know how important it