“Well what if I want to?”
He swallows thickly. “Then I won’t stop you.” His eyes drift over my face, as if searching for something.
It’s enough to make me look away, though I keep a hold of his hand to make a point. That is, until I have to go to the bathroom.
I let go and get up. Make my way through the crowd to the woman’s restroom, pushing open the heavy door to find myself in a tiny two-stall room that smells like diesel. One stall is occupied, so I go in the other.
The woman in the other stall leaves and I hear the tap running and then turn off, but I don’t hear the door open. She’s probably just doing her makeup in the mirror or something. Meanwhile, I’m having a hell of a time peeing with the boat moving the way it is.
Finally, I flush and step out, expecting the woman to be gone but she’s still here, staring at herself in the mirror. She’s pretty, in her thirties, pale with a dark brown bob, wearing all white, eyes so pale blue they’re almost milky.
But despite how normal she looks, there’s something about her that puts me on edge, makes me clench my jaw. I try to shake the feeling, forcing myself to walk to the sink beside her and wash my hands. I don’t dare look at her, though now I feel her looking at me.
I concentrate on my breathing, wondering if I’m having a panic attack, and try to focus on washing my hands with the soap, over and over, almost methodical, until I turn on the tap.
For a moment the water doesn’t come, then it gurgles and comes out in a splash of blood before running clear.
I gasp, pulling my hands away and look up at the woman to see if she saw that stream of red.
But the woman is walking to the door to the restroom.
And locking it.
So no one else can come in.
She turns around to face me, a close-mouthed smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“You should rinse your hands,” she says to me, her voice smooth and metallic at the same time, like it’s not really coming from her but from a radio somewhere.
Oh no. Oh no.
My veins begin to buzz, picking up on the fact that something is very, very wrong here.
And yet I’m moving back to the sink, running my hands under the water that’s running clear but burning hot then hotter until steam begins to rise and my skin begins to burn and I can’t stop.
I have no control.
Then the water turns off by itself and my hands are pink and throbbing.
The woman shakes her head in disappointment. “Useless, aren’t you? Can’t even handle a bit of heat.”
“Excuse me?” I manage to say, ignoring the pain in my hands. “Do I know you?”
“No, you don’t,” she says. “But your friend does. Pity you had to come along with him, it’s making things a little more complicated. But you like complicated, don’t you, Ada?”
“Who are you?” I ask, trying to find my resolve. “Don’t use my fucking name if you don’t know me.”
She blinks. “Feisty. Maybe that’s what he sees in you.”
I just stare at her, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. I could try and rip her head off I guess, but am I sure she’s even a demon? She could be a ghost. Or a witch. God forbid a vampire, now that Max told me that those things exist. And if she’s a human and I try to take her head off, there’s gonna be consequences.
“What do you want?” I ask, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking.
“Nothing to do with you, don’t worry,” she says plainly. “I’m here for him. He knows it, too. He knew one of us would come through looking for him. You guys should have left him in Hell, Ada. He was much happier there. He didn’t even want to leave.”
I shake my head, having a hard time swallowing, breathing. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No. You’re the one who has no idea. You have no idea who you’re traveling with, no idea what he’s made up of. He’s made up of nothing, Ada. Haven’t you looked?”
I blink. “Looked?”
“Perhaps he’s hiding it from you. His feelings for you might have clouded things. You’re keeping him alive. Are you sure that’s what he wants?”
Wait. Wait. “Feelings for me? What feelings?” And also, wait. “Of course he wants to be alive! He asked me to come with him!”
She stares at me for a moment and I’m starting to think that maybe she’s not a demon after all.
Then she smiles.
Shark teeth.
And before I can react, she’s in front of me, pressing my arms against the tiles on the wall, fingers searing my skin right through my long-sleeved shirt, and I know I’m going to die. I can’t move at all, can’t even think, the energy inside me fizzling out.