Page 149 of Fame and Obsession
Red blood.
“No!” Without any recourse for myself, I rush forward and sink to my knees beside her. Phoebe’s eyes are shut tight, the paleness of her skin forever tattooed across my memory.
I kneel beside her, the stun gun falling from my fingers as I take her face in my hands. “Phoebe, look at me. Open your eyes.”
Jerking her chin out of my grasp, she hisses between clenched teeth, “Be quiet, Julian. Just, quiet…”
“Phoebe…”
She opens her eyes, the pale blue slicing through me. “I said shut up.”
She struggles for every breath, her elbows shaking from supporting her own weight. Her fingers still wade in a puddle of blood—the metallic stench filling me with clarity.
I tied her up in a nice shiny bow for a sociopath’s taking, but I’ll be damned if I’ll lose her now.
“Where are you hurt? I need to stop the bleeding and get you the fuck out of here.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “Shhhh…”
“What the hell do you mean, shhhh? Phoebe, who the hell knows where that bitch is now? We’ve got to get you to the hospital and then the police—”
“She means shhhh because ‘that bitch’ is waiting in the other bedroom for you to join the party, Jagger.”
I turn my head to the right where Tanna stands, a sadistic smile painted across her face. In her hand is the biggest knife I’ve ever seen. Blood is dripping off the tip.
Phoebe’s blood.
“Tanna…”
“Tara!”
“Okay, Tara, just go. Leave now, and nobody will say shit.”
I have to try. She holds all the cards, and Phoebe is unmovable.
She seems to stare through me, and then it’s as if the dark lifts, and I suddenly come face-to-face with someone I’ve never known. “Angela says no. Angela says you’re a liar.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut up, Julian!”
Apparently, Tanna is back.
Jesus, how many people live inside her?
“Just let us—”
“And to think I loved you. I would’ve done anything for you, Julian.” She points the end of the knife down toward Phoebe. “Even after you killed my brother, I forgave you. I killed for you. And for what? So you could betray me and have your happily ever after ending for your stupid autobiography? I don’t think so.”
I barely have time to react before she barrels into me with the force of an NFL linebacker. Knocking me to the ground, she hooks an arm around my throat and slams the handle of the knife into my temple.
If she was anyone else I would’ve flipped her over, grabbed the knife, and put it right through her fucking chest for everything she’s done. But amazingly enough, I still don’t want to kill her. So I elbow her in the ribs and duck down while flinging her over my head.
She hits the wall and stills.
Disoriented from the blow to the head, I crawl back over to Phoebe, who’s now surrounded by an even larger puddle. Cradling her face, I pull it out of the dripping mess and yell at her.
“Open your eyes, Phoebe!”
