Page 47 of Death is Familiar

His eyes.

He’d withdrawn so far into himself it hurt. There was no spark. No mischief.

Unacceptable. All of it.

“Did you care to look at what he was saying?” I held the now-crumpled cue cards up to the mob. “He had these for a reason.” Oh god, I really was going to throw up. I needed to leave. Needed fresh air. Now. “Be better. Now, go. Go!”

The crowd dispersed with indignant murmurs as I shoved the cue cards back in to Todd’s hands. His gaze bore into mine, a silent ‘thank you’, as I shoved his fists into his chest, arming him with his words, before I took off.

†

I stormed out of the inner sanctum, through the waiting room, and into the lobby, beelining for the stairs. I couldn’t wait for the elevator. I’d have to risk the climb.

Tearing my heels off, clutching them in my fists, I dashed up the stairs barefoot.

“Delilah?” Jezebel called from the booth, but I didn’t acknowledge her. I didn’t look back. There wasn’t time. I needed to be out. In the fresh air.

“Connected.” The automated voice trilled in my ear as I thrust out of the warehouse doors.

Jack’s voice followed in quick succession. “Everything alright, Delilah?”

“Peachy. Going silent.” I flicked the earpiece off. I didn’t need Jack in my ear listening in while I tried to gain control of my stomach.

I dashed a distance down the alley, out of direct line of sight from the warehouse. Knowing better than to be alone in an alleyway when it was closer to dawn than dusk, defenseless, I kept one of my stilettos in hand. The other clattered to the ground as I hugged the corner of a brick wall.

The edge of the building supported me, shielding Jez’s dress in the process, as I purged the contents of my stomach.

And god was it awful.

I hate this.

That was my mantra. Every time I retched, the words solidified in my mind, and I sunk lower and lower to the ground.

I hate this.

I hate this.

When was the throwing up going to end? Why couldn’t I find relief? Why hadn’t the pretzels worked?

I hate this.

I should have known the effects of my passenger would escalate. Especially when I hadn’t been able to shake the nausea this morning. Now, I was a fucking mess. I couldn’t even hold myself upright. Jezebel’s dress touched the ground, as I kneeled, back rounded, hands on the gritted pavement, still maintaining a loose grip on one of my stilettos.

I should have stolen one of the blades from target practice with Carmen. It might not have been sharp, but it at least looked threatening. And sometimes that was all that mattered.

I hate this.

I hate this.

Tears stung my eyes. My muscles cramped. Who in their right mind would choose this? Why had I let it get this far? I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, feeling the raised edges of the tulip pebble against my lips. There was nothing delicate about this disaster.

On the bright side, I was alone. No witnesses. No questions. Just me and what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders.

But that didn’t last long.

A firm hand clasped me between my shoulder blades. Tensing, my body responded before I had time to think. I spun around, stiletto in hand, heel flush against my assailant’s jugular.

“Delilah.” Todd moved his open palms up towards his face. He didn’t seem alarmed, so this must’ve been about as warm a welcome as he expected.