Page 25 of Fatally Yours
“Thanks,” he said simply, taking my hand and leading us down the road. The sun was in full bloom as I picked up the pace, hoping not to draw any wandering eyes. August trailed behind me until our arms extended, and I turned around and gave him a desperate expression. He sighed sadly and matched my speed.
We were getting closer to home, and I was expecting more stress. There would be a swarm of police, caution tape, evidence bags, and more. I wasn’t exactly sure of the amount of time between being last seen and crawling from the grave, but I knew that someone was bound to report me missing. If it were Monday, someone at work would notice my absence if they didn’t assume I was skipping out to sob into my pillow again. The police would see the scene, and an investigation would start, sparking more trouble.
My heart sank when our home came into view. Our car was still there, and everything appeared untouched. No uniformed men had notepads, norwere there streaks of yellow crime scene tape around the yard. No one was looking for me, and maybe no one would ever find me.
I dropped August’s hand, and my palms went to my face again. He turned to me with a pained look on his face as I felt tears slip from my eyes again.
“No one is looking for me…” I whimpered. His shoulders drooped as he placed his arm around my quaking form.
“Don’t say that…” he said sadly, pulling me towards him as I sobbed.
“I should’ve talked to my parents more.”
“Stop—”
“I should’ve been nicer to Mandy about her serial killer thing.”
“Please, Tash—”
“I should’ve done more with my life and—”
“Natasha!” August’s stern voice ceased my spiraling. I snapped out of it with tears resting on my eyelids and stared at him wide-eyed. He let out another sigh and took my hands in his.
“You and I can do so much more now,” he said. “Beso much more. This world can be ours. We just have to take it.” My heart would be fluttering right now if it could. Taking the world? I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I didn’t want anything to do with it. All I wanted was to return to a normal life, even if that was impossible. As close to normal as possible would be acceptable, however, I had a feeling he had bigger plans.
“Fuck being at home. Fuck living a normal life. Fuck it all. We can take all these losers out. Devin and anyone else who has screwed us over. That slime bag, Officer Wilson, and whoever took me away from you. Maybe more.”
“I don’t know if I can…”
“You will,” he said. His mismatched eyes burned into me with the fury of death. My nausea might have increased, but I was unsure if his words were meant to convince me or if it was a demand. “Being dead changes you, Tash. You forget about being mortal and only focus on the allure, the strength, the power…” I gulped.
“Like how you made me move without touching me?” I tore my gaze away from him, fearing his words would force that change upon me with hissmothering eyes. “And where you got that knife? The one that…” I trailed off, not wanting to say it. He was right. Being dead changes you, and it does it in the most wicked of ways.
“Yeah.” He averted his eyes, and I knew there was still a flicker of the real him. The one who felt guilt for the horrific act he inflicted upon me, not the one who was tarnished by the sickness of death.
“Do I get powers like that?”
“No, baby. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?” The answer he gave me made my stomach flip—if it could.
“Because you were a secondary resurrection. Not one that was bound by a ritual… and other things,” he explained. I figured it was something like that, and I didn’t even want the powers. It was sheer curiosity. But there was something else that I wondered about. His wording was ominous, just like many of the other things he said.
“Like what?”
“Hell, the devil, torment—” Immediately, I began to cry again, thinking about his torturous experiences in the afterlife. Flashes of gore and agony were burning in my brain, and they were happening to the man I loved. He pulled me close to him again, hushing me.
“Don’t think about it,” August muttered, kissing my forehead. “You don’t have to think about it, baby.” I continued to cry as even his comfort and knowing he was out of there brought me no calm. Dwelling on it was suffering incarnate, and I couldn’t stop those unrelenting images from bombarding my head as I sobbed into his chest again.
“Maybe staying home for a night would be good,” he said. I nodded against him.
“I just want one last night to feel normal again,” I croaked. “No one’s going to look for me for a few days, if ever…” He pulled my head away from him and looked at me with his frighteningly alluring, uneven eyes.
“You know I would look for you,” he said. “And even if the world was on fire, I would never stop.”
XII
Even though it had only been a few hours, reality was setting in faster than I could cope with. When we got inside, August headed off to our bedroom, and I curled up on the couch, burying my head in my knees. Being back here made me swear I could breathe, even if it was unnecessary. Every time I tried, I never felt that rush of air or my chest rising and falling.
