Page 258 of Tar City
“Uh… Jax?” Viper suddenly points.
I look down to see the tar already moving, flowing from my fingers and shaping itself without my notice. It lifts slowly from my palm, twisting upward into a tight spiral that spins faster and faster, forming a tiny black cyclone that hovers above my hand.
“You can do it.”
His voice makes me turn.I’d forgotten he was even in the room.
O watches the tar twisting above my hand. “We’ll practice, we’ll try everything,” he says calmly. His eyes move to Sisk, lowering to her stomach. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his face. “We have nine months.”
* * *
WEEKS LATER
My mind isn't even here, not really. It's back at my place, on the table. I can still see the takeout container, a monument to my own stupidity.Spicy noodles, her favorite.The one thing she said she could actually stomach. Ice fucking cold.
How the fuck am I supposed to do this? Be a normal boyfriend? The kind who waits at home with a goddamn dinner ready like some domesticated dream? My ass.This is the real world. My world, and she’s not in it.My fists clench and unclench.
I’ll destroy this whole fucking city to find her. Does she not get that?Where the hell could she be?It's way too late for her to still be working. Paperwork, my ass. I’m so over it. Over her freedom.
Over what my life has become—these pointless exercises Murtaugh and O make me do every single day, like “tar camp” is some fucking solution. I’m over Sisk’s delusional travel plans, like we can just pack up and start over somewhere else.I’m over not having a single fucking clue what to do next.
I’d do anything to keep her and the baby safe, but I’m useless. The tar is a constant, thrumming reminder that it wants its heir,so taking myself out of the equation isn’t even a fucking solution anymore.
So I go through the motions. I do the stupid exercises, I play with the goddamn tar. I don’t know how to tell them that it’s all bullshit. That it’s not going to work.I just know.So this is my grand fucking conclusion: lock her down, keep her by my side. That’s all I can do. But she’s Sisk. Fucking free spirit and all that shit. She finds a way to sneak out, to work, to live…
I don’t even bother with the handle. I slam my shoulder against the studio door, the lock splintering with a satisfying crack. The magic inside me is already humming, eager to break something. Lou looks up from his desk, his mouth falling open, but I’m already past him, my eyes scanning the empty room. The mirrors throw my own desperate, furious reflection back at me.
I push into the main studio. Fucking empty. The locker room door is next—it rips off its hinges in my hands. Nothing. The frantic energy is a wildfire in my chest now. The office door gives way to a kick. The storage closet door is torn from its frame. I slam my fist against the bathroom door until the wood splinters.
“Jax!” Lou’s voice is a squeak, a mouse trying to reason with a fucking tornado. “What are you doing? You’re gonna break the?—”
I stop in the middle of the studio and turn on him. “Where is she?” I roar.
Lou stumbles back, tripping over his own feet. “I haven’t seen Sisk since lunch! I told her not to work late, I told her she needs to rest and?—”
The voice comes up.
SHE’S TAKEN.
“No,” I choke out, stumbling back a step.
SHE WILL STAY THERE UNTIL THE HEIR IS OURS.
My hands fly to my head.
“Where is,” I snarl, to the voice, to the room, to the world. “She?!”
HE WILL GROW STRONG. THEN HE WILL RULE THIS CITY.
The tar inside me stirs wildly.
FOR WHAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN WILL ALWAYS BE.
“Jax? What’s wrong?” Lou’s voice is a distant echo.
I lurch forward, my hands slamming onto the floor.
“I’ll rip the goddamn foundations from this city until I find her!”
