Page 46 of Pulling Strings

“How are they going to do that?” His eyes narrowed.

“I’m not sure yet, but—”

“When?”

“Soon.” I floundered for a reply. “I’ve got a court date—”

“I know.”

“So, before then.”

Inmates milled outside, and I found myself wishing they would look in here. It might have been too much to hope they would intervene and not start cheering my demise.

“You’re lying,” Ripley said.

My head gave the slightest wiggle. “No. No, I’m not.” Not entirely. “Look, they gave me something for you. It’s…” I moved carefully, trying to slide a hand into my pocket without brushing against the unrelenting scalpel. “Hold on,” I muttered. “I swear, I’ve got it.”

The cameo necklace the guard had passed me seemed a strange self-defense, but I was getting nowhere with my negotiation skills alone.

My fingers found the ribbon, now wet with shower water, and pulled. I lifted the jewelry like raw meat dangled in front of a hungry animal.

One glance at it set Ripley upright. He tossed the scalpel into his medical bag, then snatched the necklace from my grasp. I expelled a long-held breath, touching my fingers to my neck in a check for blood.

Finding none, I sat up and swung my legs off the bed. The movement jostled my injured ribs, making me wince.

Ripley turned away and stood, staring down at the cameo. Finally, he looked at me with such disgust I thought he might spit venom. “Get out.” He stabbed a finger toward the open door. “Don’t come back.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

16

Strike Two

“Real shitty, is how it went.”

Another twenty-four hours had ticked away. My face ached, and my floating ribs were floating more freely than usual, yet the countdown continued. I’d avoided common areas the rest of last night while considering what I would do when Jax and his tagalongs struck again. If he wanted my Hex mark, then he, too, was pressed for time. If he didn’t kill me, the Capitol would, and he could kiss his ticket into the Bloody Hex goodbye.

“Was it that bad?” Donovan frowned from the other side of the visitation barrier.

“Dude pulled a scalpel and threatened to flay me open. It was pretty bad.”

“Is that what happened to your nose?” Donovan asked.

My nose was swollen and stained about five shades of red that spread into purple shadows under both eyes. But getting jumped in the showers was a topic I’d passed over in favor of discussing my run-in with Ripley Vaughn.

“Also, he works in the infirmary, but I don’t thinkhe’s a healer at all.” I rushed ahead, pretending I didn’t hear my brother’s question. “Do you know anything else about him?”

Donovan shook his head. “Not really, no.”

“Well, it’s a nonstarter.” I held the phone gingerly against my swollen cheek. “‘A fool’s errand.’ His words. Did I mention he’s British? Pretentious asshole.”

“Did you give him the necklace?”

A laugh rattled pain through my chest. “Sure did. Didn’t help a bit. Where’d it come from, anyway?”

“Vinton,” Donovan replied. “He’s got a new zombie following him around. I’m not supposed to know about it, but I’ve seen her in the halls. I think it’s hers.”

His face showed a sudden sickly pallor, which I understood. Vinton with a zombie was like one of those creepy kids that tortures animals. Pathological.

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