Page 118 of The Black Table
I lick my lips.
“I won’t tell,” I say quickly. “No way. Why would I tell?”
“No one’s saying you would,” Lanz says, equally quickly. “No one’s accusing you of…”
Callahan pushes up a little more, and I can see now down his own collar, where a few rough red bruises pepper the strong column of his throat.
My mouth goes drier still, and a twist of…something stirs inside me.
“Well, um…” I scramble for a way to end the conversation elegantly. “I’m actually—I was just going to get some air. Actually.”
I pick up my bag, wave at themfor some freaking reason,and head right back out the door, face burning and mind’s eyeblazingwith the memory of what I just saw.
Lanz’s teeth on Callahan’s neck…
Callahan’s head tipped back, mouth open, eyes closed…
“Wait,” comes Lanz’s voice. “Gwenna?—”
“Let her go.”
I hit the walkway and immediately hang a right, walking away from the quads, away from campus, no ideawhereI’m going beyond the fact that I’m going there quickly.
And as I go, despite everything—the sheer awkwardness, the implications that are still clicking together in my mind like Lego pieces—the overriding takeaway for me is…
I liked that.
And that might be more confusing than anything.
THIRTY-TWO
KAI
Welp,I’m drunk and throwing rocks at a lake.
Because that’s a productive way to deal with your shit.
“Come on out, Vivian!” I yell, just loud enough that someone might overhear and send a rock sailing into the water’s glassy surface. “I’m right he-ere. Waiting. Don’tcha wanna come givemeyour little seal of approval?”
Nothing, of course.
Just the ripples spreading out on the surface of the water, reflecting the purple and pink of the early-afternoon sunset.
Growing up, I never believed in so much as the fucking Tooth Fairy. And now here I am, praying for forgiveness when I bash some poor bastard too hard in a bout, and crying to a magical dead girl in a lake when God won’t give me my way.
Cowards make the fiercest converts, I guess. Any port in a fucking storm.
I shiver.
It’s chilly and I’m not wearing a jacket because I’m a dipshit. Just came right out from the salle with my hair still wet in my T-shirt. Practice wasn’t enough. Drilling wasn’t enough. Liftingwasn’t enough. A healthy swig from this bottle of Clase Azul wasn’t enough, although it certainly took the edge off.
So instead I’m here, dealing with problems the way my genetic forebears would, yelling at them and causing property damage.
I suck my teeth as the ripples abate, palm out my pack of cigarettes, and jam one between my teeth.
I’m restless, that’s the problem. Every muscle tense, even when I’ve tried to wear it to fatigue. Petulant and throwing rocks like I’m twelve years old again and trying to hit the Green Line as it chugged past 63rd Street.
“Kai?”
