Page 23 of Inextricably Tied

It’s always going to matter.

Harbinger has lacked care for her wellbeing for years. Flint was surprised she took on a bodyguard at all, but never before have they been so completely at odds. Never before was she so willing to throw herself into the line of fire in the hopes that somehow, they can do something.

But the girls are dead. And as much as the truth pains Flint, no amount of evidence or final resting places or vengeance will make that fact easier to live with.

Maybe Flint’s selfish for wanting to stop Harbinger. Maybe he’s wrong for it.

He doesn’t give a fuck.

They can’t keep arguing in circles. It’s the only thing he can hope for, that the house will tell them exactly what they need, and they can get rid of Agony.

Doesn’t mean the cracks forming between Flint and Harbinger will seal back up.

They drive for hours. It’s not hot enough to keep the AC on, so silence fills the space. For a moment, Flint considers pulling the rag out of Agony’s mouth for some noise, but he’s not that desperate.

Harbinger finds a rock station on the radio. One jarring enough to amplify how they aren’t speaking. She keeps her helmet on for the entire ride, visor turned out the window when the offramp’s sharp turn knocks her against the door.

Flint passes Reid’s house the first time. There’s something foreboding in its presence, like the cloud cover is a little grayer above the roof. It’s set back along a dirt road off of an old two-lane highway, overgrown with weeds, not just from months of being left on its own. The wooden trellis beneath the porch has come off its nails, vines climbing from bushes toward the roof.

By now, there’s no more crime scene tape. MURDERER slashes in spray paint across the garage door as the gravel behind the house crunches under their tires. Flint pulls Agony out of the backseat and removes the gag, but the terror doesn’t wisecrack. He watches the house, like he’s waiting for it to move. A breeze rustles through leaves dying on the trees.

“There’s something wrong about this place,” Harbinger whispers, as if lifting her voice will disturb something they can’t see. There’s a sense that something is wrong. Was wrong.

Flint speaks gruffly to Agony. “Do you recognize this place?”

Agony’s eyes flick over the building, but they don’t land anywhere for long. “Vaguely. There was something like this in the dreamscape, but it wasn’t…” He searches for the word. “It wasn’t the main stage. It’s not where Reid’s thoughts spent most of their time.”

Flint doesn’t know why he bothered to ask. Agony will string them along with false clues and red herrings until they’re spinning their wheels. The three of them step onto the covered porch, steps thudding across the wooden slats. Kudzu winds around gutters and railings, blocking their view to the street.

With the side of his hand, Flint smears a hole through the window’s dust and debris. Inside the house, there’s nothing but darkness.

Emptiness.

Silence.

EIGHT

Flint

The interior of Reid’s house is bare, drag-lines in the carpet from random pieces of furniture. Dust motes float through the air, winking in the pockets of sunlight that make it through the windows. Flint shoves Agony down onto the patio furniture on the porch, looping his cuffs around the metal before Flint checks the rest of the house. It’s a one-story ranch with a few other rooms, and they’re all the same: small, dark, empty.

Flint makes room for Harbinger to continue inside before he unchains Agony from the porch. Agony stretches when he stands. “Your wings puff up when you’re jealous.”

Flint elbows him over the threshold. “Be careful what you touch,” he murmurs to Harbinger before he thinks better of it. Memory simmers in the back of his mind.

Can’t you just trust me?

She moves through the dated kitchen toward the garage. “Here first?”

Flint waits for her to step down onto the concrete before he foists Agony with them. Agony’s whisper cuts through the quiet. “You two should think about couple’s counseling.”

Flint’s grip tightens on Agony’s neck until he hisses.

Harbinger moves toward the edge of the garage, empty without so much as a spot of oil. She removes her glove and clicks back her helmet, kneeling to press her hand to the floor.

“You think —” Agony starts again. Flint hauls him to the other side of the space.

“I don’t want you talking unless you recognize something. So, do you?”