Page 34 of Awry
Including the night I watched the real Zaya get murdered.
I’m so angry now that my nostrils feel wet.And too hot.A bad sign.I don’t want to be scalding anything in this room, not with Presh …
Presh isn’t a shifter.
I can’t wrap my head around it.
Awry are rare.
The Outcast MC has some contacts who would fit within the awry subcategory of essence-wielders, but no awry members.While the power they wield is usually rare and valuable, actually dealing with an awry is tricky business.Most clubs avoid doing so.
“I’m afraid this is … was broken,” Zaya murmurs to Presh.She means my little sister’s cheekbone.
Presh chews on her lip again.“And my forehead?Will it scar?”
Zaya rips the second half of the new patch in half and applies a quarter to the wound on Presh’s right temple.“It will heal cleanly,” she says.“Take the rest of the patches —”
“I can’t take more,” Presh protests.“What if you need them?”
Zaya sighs, lips curling into a slight smile.“I’ll avoid violent confrontations for the next couple of days.”
Presh snorts doubtfully, even playfully.As if she knows this woman, as if they’re friends.
Zaya grins at her wearily, bundling the remaining patches together with a thick stack of twenty-dollar bills, then tucking them into the pocket of Presh’s sweatpants.“Don’t get them too hot or cold,” she says.“Body temperature is fine, obviously …”
Her head is bowed, and something … something in her tone is tinged with sadness.
I literally loathe the fact that I can read her like that.That it even matters enough to me to see it, sense it, and that I need to fight an impulse to do something about it.
I tell myself that I need to know her in order to understand what’s going on here, and that’s the only reason I’m watching so closely.
“That’s … that’s it, then?”Presh whispers.“We’re … you —”
“Your brother is here,” Zaya says.
I’m livid again.In an instant.I didn’t realize that the smoldering fury had eased until it sparks again.She can’t even say my fucking name …
And then I realize I’ve been fucking calling her Zaya in my head.
Fuck me.I can’t get sucked into this, whatever this is.
“But …” Presh shuffles a little.“Maybe you would be safer with us?”
The impostor smiles at her.Then she reaches up and smooths a strand of light-blue hair that’s fallen free of Presh’s messy, multicolored bun, tucking it back behind her ear.
She touches my sister as if she actually cares for her.
My chest aches.Because that could have been real.If the real Zaya hadn’t died, then —
I shut the thought down.
Again.
The impostor stands up, swaying almost imperceptibly on her feet.Her own clothing looks two sizes too big on her.I understand the clothes not fitting Presh, but on her it doesn’t make any sense.
I haven’t even glanced around the room yet.I note the suitcase and bag by the door, along with the towel-wrapped bundle.The rest of the place looks spotless.
I briefly meet Grinder’s gaze — he’s stepped up to cover the open door at my back — and nod toward the bundle.
