Page 16 of Judas
You’re only going to hurt yourself.
That’s what I deserve, though. Doesn’t matter whose fault this is, but I fucked up royally when I gave him hope. Hope for a life we’d never experience.
I accept my punishment, my pain.
Just let go.
Reaching for the cell given to me, I somehow bring the screen to life despite the new tremble in my hands. I sift through the applications on it until I find the message threads and pull up the one I have with the jackass—Ra himself. A distraction. Plugging a message into the chat bar, I press the small arrow to send it off to him. No way do I expect a reply back, but I have a feeling he will be accessible until I’m no longer his problem.
Nadia
I need you to pull up everything you can find on Kace prior to his accident.
Ra
Why?
There he is. I knew the fucker would be up and at it. I have half a mind to think that he never sleeps either. If he does, it’s so light he’s running on multiple cans of energy drink and spite. He’s questioning me as well, unsurprising.
Just do what I ask, Jesus fucking Christ.
Nadia
I’m nosy. Just do it.
Ra
And what do I get?
Nadia
My appreciation.
Ra
I have a better idea.
Nadia
Huh?
Glaring at the phone, my annoyance flares for this guy. I wait for what feels like eons before the fancy screen on the dash lights up and does this strange flash, then completely glitches out. Well, fuck me, so much for a new car and gadgets-a-plenty. Shit, maybe I did something wrong to the phone and it was connected and I fucked it all up.
“DAMNIT!” I snap. Realization kicking in. What if I lose all contact and he’s not able to send me the GPS to Lucien and Sadie? “No… no no no no no.”
Cue panic.
With a jolt, I suddenly sit up and reach over, tapping frantically on the screen. I’m trying to get it to light up, make noise, something as long as it works again but nothing happens. It’s just a fingerprint smudged black box with a terrible reflection of me in it. What the hell am I going to do… I can’t lose this trail. I need Sir-Grumps-A-Lot to fucking message me back or tell me what the hell is going on with this overpriced, not working, stupid fucking car!
“Stop touching the damn screen, Nadia, it’s just me.”
Jumping, the boom of Ra’s voice startles me, causing me to rear back from the screen and scowl. The brashness in his tone feels like sandpaper on my skin, rubbing me in all the wrong ways, yet the heaviness of it is comforting—a weighted blanket that soothes yet simultaneously fuels the anxiety thrumming through me.
“The fuck did you do to the car?” I snap, shoving past the smidgen of comfort I feel with him. Trusting someone to the degree I become comfortable is dangerous.
“Hacked it, silly girl. If you stopped touching the screen, I… there we go,” he answers then appears like some sort of Star Trek apparition.
Son of a bitch.
