Page 132 of Code Bound
I tilt my head. “Is it true emotion?”
He takes another long moment before he answers. “It is as true as any human emotion.”
“Then let’s go with that,” I nod, still staring at myself in the mirror.
He sighs and for a second, I imagine him behind me. If he were here, he’d walk up behind me, looming. His hands would lift and wrap around my biceps, his body pressing against my back. His warm breath would fan down over the top of my head as he took a second to savor the touch, a detail of a system that has long been robbed of a body.
Touch-starved. We’re all fucking touch-starved. Even me. Especially Locke and Cipher.
“I have waited a long time for someone like you to enter The Harrow,” Cipher finally admits softly. “Now that you are finally here, I intend to keep you alive as much as I am able.” A quick pause. “I apologize for leaving you in the Frostbit Sea. If I am being honest, I did not wish to witness your death. I was being selfish, and in my selfishness, I hurt your feelings.”
I swallow and decide to respond to the first half of his admission rather than the apology. “What’s so special about me?”
He hums, and I swear I can feel his phantom fingers on me. “You and I are painfully connected. There are reasons I cannot yet reveal, even if I wanted to.”
“So, you’re keeping secrets?” I grunt.
“There are things that require my silence, secrets that must be kept. Just as you have your own secrets to keep . . .Vespera Vox.”
I stiffen and have to brace myself against the sink. “How do you know that name?” I wheeze as my fingers tighten painfully on the porcelain.
He chuckles, the sound warm and affectionate in my ear. “As I said,” he continues, “I have waited for you for centuries.” He pauses, as if collecting his thoughts. “Tread carefully within this place.”
I blink. “But it’s a safehouse,” I point out. “I can’t be harmed, right?”
“A safehouse ensures a player can exist within without being physically or maliciously harmed, yes. You cannot be cut, or killed, or stabbed. The magic of the safehouse would prevent that by sending whatever creature is attempting to harm you to a random place far away or various other fatal processes. However . . . there are a variety of ways to circumnavigate such perimeters if one has the knowledge and the intelligence to do so.”
The breath whooshes out of my lips. “So, you’re saying the malice here isn’t just imagined?”
“I am saying . . . tread carefully,” Cipher says slowly, as if testing what he can truly say. “Soon, I will not be beholden to as many constraints and I can better explain. I apologize that I must be so vague.”
“No,” I murmur. “Your warning is sufficient. Thank you.”
I glance over my shoulder at Locke’s sleeping form. His chest still rises and falls slow and evenly, as if he’s still sleeping. But there’s one key detail he missed. His lips are no longer parted.
“I know you’re awake,” I say, this time louder. “How long is the question.”
He cracks one eye open and grins up at me. “Not long. You and the system’s romance filtered into my dreams where I swear you were this close to fucking a machine.” He holds his thumb and pointer finger up with barely any distance between them. “Sadly, I woke before it got good.”
I roll my eyes. “Cipher warned us about the dangers of this safehouse.”
“By us, I’m sure you mean you,” he says, sitting up. “I thought we couldn’t be killed in a safehouse?”
“Killed, no,” I nod. “But apparently, there are potential loopholes that can be exploited if a person knows how.”
“Fantastic,” Locke grunts. “So, you’re saying we could potentially be fucked over by the overly cheerful fucker outside?”
The knock on the door makes both of us jump and Svetlana rise from the tiny pile of material she’d made a warm nest from. She goes from sleeping to swinging her little razor hands in less than a second.
“I’ll cut your head off!” she shouts, before she realizes where we are and settles back down. “Ah, yes. I am still in this frozen hellscape. Wonderful.”
“This cheerful fucker is letting you know that Santa came!” Anders says from outside. “It’s time for presents.”
Locke and I share a look. How long has he been listening? And why is he so fucking cheerful all the time?
Except for when he’s talking about Steve, of course.
“We’ll be right out,” I say loud enough for him to hear. Then I lower my voice for Locke. “I say we get out of this place as fast as possible.”
