Page 35 of Bloody Bargain
“Yes? Is there something the matter?” he asked. He faltered as if I’d caught his attention, and his eyes trailed down the crack in the door, catching mine for a brief moment of appreciation.
“I-I just, ah, heard a commotion is all,” the landlady laughed nervously.
“Babe?” I called in my best bubbly voice.
“Oh,Iesu Mawr!”the landlady exclaimed, peering inside. “Are you alright, love? It’s Owena!”
I peeked my toweled head and one good eye out from behind the door with a little finger wave, hoping she didn’t realize the water wasn’t on yet and that my hair wouldn’t be wet.
“Oh, hi! I’m good. Um, very good,” I laughed nervously. “I’m so sorry.”Don’t look at the bloody floor, don’t look at the bloody floor.“I guess we forgot about thin walls.”
“Apologies for getting carried away,” D’abel said, adjusting his hold on the towel to draw her attention as he blocked her view inside. He leaned closer to her with a challenging smile. “I’m afraid I love when she’s loud.”
“Oh…” Owena trailed off, fanning herself with that same dish towel. “Just be mindful of your neighbours. If I didn’t know better, I’d’ve thought it was bloody murder going on in there. Lucky no littles are here today.”
“Of course. Please excuse us then.”
There was a pause, then D'abel stepped away from the door, shut and locked it. When he turned to me, the glimmer of flirtation was still painted on his scales.
“The innkeeper was quite flustered. I believe I performed well.”
“What do you want, a cookie?” I needled, tossing the towel on my head to the floor as I pushed the hair from my eyes.
My gaze slid to the corpse on the bed. I walked over the old wood floorboards on sticky, bare feet, and climbed onto the blood-soaked sheets. When I pulled the knife out, the hilt was still warm. The blade was broken and bent, caught on ribs and other sinew. I left it on her chest and wiped the blood off on my tank.
There was no saving the knife. My most reliable tool was gone.
The room was eerily quiet, the clock on the vanity tick-tick-ticking away. Muffled by the walls, a kitchen radio blasted cool rock downstairs, no doubt so that other guests wouldn’t hear our intense fucking.
“I need to take a shower.”
“You’re badly injured, mine Tessa.”
D’abel nodded at my arm when I met his eyes again. I raised the appendage. Three deep scratches marred my flesh, still beaded with flesh blood. I shrugged it off. They wouldn’t even warrant stitches. “It’s not that bad.”
“Your back,” he motioned to the vanity.
Perplexed, I twisted my face over my shoulder and found it was no wonder my spine burned. A deep laceration marred the flesh over my shoulder blade in a short, ragged tear that exposed the bone. Though it wouldn’t cause me permanent damage other than thick scars after stitches, red poured down my back and leg. My own red, and lots of it.
“Shit,” I cursed, attempting to see just how much of my blood had contaminated the rest of the room. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. I didn’t feel the wound until I saw it.
“Wash and discard your clothes. Then I will tend to you.”
My cheeks grew hot, knowing what was coming. We stared off, D’abel’s brows raised as if in challenge. I wanted to deny him, but the stinging barb caught on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed it down, feeling its thorns as it burned my throat with equal parts vitriol and want.
Betrayed by my own body, I looked away so I wouldn’t see the victory in his grin.
“Alright,” I sighed, too exhausted to fight the inevitable. I was pragmatic, and this body was nothing. It was a tool… and maybe the only one I had left. I glanced at my ruined knife, feeling the acute loss like the death of a pet.
“Wash,” D’abel insisted gently.
I jerked a nod at him, retreating to the bathroom as the adrenaline high diminished and my teeth began to chatter, making sure that both doors were locked. Then I slid to the shower floor and let the water wash it all away.
13
I showered just as I was, in my underwear and tank. The water was so hot I could hardly breathe. Or maybe that was the shock. Everything stung. My arms, my shoulders, the self-inflicted stab wound in my thigh. Even my nail beds. I glanced at them to find purple and red welts beneath the edges where I’d clawed at the clerk hard enough to almost rip them off.
Partway through, I shed my clothes and kicked the wad into the corner. The adrenaline had run its course and I was bone tired, with an arm I couldn’t lift thanks to the damage in my shoulder. I held it against my chest as if I had a sling, and rubbed a hand towel on my head.
