Page 30 of Dead Rockstar

As we pulled into the driveway, I saw Phillip standing on the porch, his face set with worry. I wondered how bad the truck looked. Sloan came around to the passenger side and started to help me out, but Phillip was down the steps in a flash, scooping me into his arms.

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice crackling with electricity. “I knew something was wrong. I could feel it.”

“Let's go inside,” I said weakly. “And then I'll explain.” I wanted to get inside, lock the door, and check out my injuries. I really hoped I wouldn't have to go to the hospital.

“Are you alright?” he asked Sloan, and she must have nodded yes, because he turned without another word and carried me inside the house. Now that I was back home and in his arms, I felt safer, and more than a little sleepy. I laid my head against his shoulder, marveling at how warm he was. You'd think he'd be cold, but he was like a furnace, brimming with heat. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of woodsmoke.

“Don't let her go to sleep,” I heard.

“Stormy.” Phillip sat me down on the couch and I groaned, not wanting to give up the warmth of his strong arms. “Wake up, sweetheart. Don't go to sleep.”

“Would you guys stop harping on me? I'm not going to sleep. Jeez.” I reluctantly opened my eyes again. Sloan was holding out a slice of pizza to me. I was no longer hungry, but I took it dutifully.

“So what happened?” Phillip said, looking at me carefully. His eyes moved over me, assessing my injuries. “Who did this?”

I explained briefly what had happened – the men following us out of Mazzios parking lot, losing them, then being run off the road – and when I was done, his eyes flashed with anger.

“I'll find them,” he said. “Find them and kill them.”

“Calm down,” Sloan said. “We don't know why they did it, or who they even were.”

“They were just trying to intimidate me, I think,” I said, still woozy. “Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think they actually intended to hurt me. If they'd wanted to kill me, they could have done worse. It was like they were passing on a message.”

“A message for me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And they did hurt you.”

“Why for you?” Sloan asked him. “Is this some kind of mob situation or something? Are you into drugs? And what does any of it have to do with Storm? What's going on?”

Phillip looked at me. “I tried to tell her the truth about you,” I said weakly, biting into my pizza. “She didn't believe me.” It tasted like cardboard. “And honestly, I don't know why, either. Why are they after you, Phillip? And who are they, exactly?”

“I don't actually know yet,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. “I just know that they're looking for me.”

I smiled weakly. “It's the paranormal po-po,” I said, with a small laugh. “They're going to throw you in psychic jail for coming back from the dead without a permit.”

“Ha.” His eyes swept over me again, still concerned. “Eat that. You're pale. I'm worried you need a doctor.”

“I'm fine.”

Sloan had wolfed down two slices already. She was regarding us both silently, but her face conveyed a number of emotions, and none of them were good. She was worried and confused, but she was also still angry with me. “Who the fuck are you?” she demanded finally, looking at Phillip. “Really.”

“Phillip,” he said simply, staring back at her.

“Please don't tell me you’re taking part in this delusion of hers,” she said, exasperated. “Because I've got to tell you, I can't take much more of this.”

“There's no delusion here,” he said. He looked down at me again, making sure I was eating. I obediently took a bite. “But I'll tell you what you want to know.”

“Good,” Sloan said, picking the peppers off her pizza, something I knew she only did when she was nervous. She arranged them in a little pile on her plate. “Well? Who are you then?”

“I'm Phillip,” he said with a slow smile. “Phillip Deville.”

“For fuck's sake-”

He held up a hand to beg her for silence. “Wait. Let me explain. Just listen, before you decide we're both nuts.”

“I've already decided that,” she said moodily, but went back to her pizza.

“I am Phillip Deville,” he went on. “But it's not what you think.” He looked at me briefly, then back to Sloan. He seemed to have reached some decision. “Whatever Stormy told you, it was an exaggeration of the truth. Because she didn't know how else to explain it without betraying my confidence. She was protecting me. She didn't bring me back from the dead with some spell. She couldn't have, because I never died.”

I almost choked on my pizza. A look from Phillip silenced me, though. What was he doing? I was trying to be honest, here, and he was just feeding her more lies.

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