Page 34 of Secondhand Soul

Victoria’s hand brushes mine as she opens the catalog to the beginning section. “It just doesn’t seem fair. That you look like you do.”

“Like a patchwork quilt made by a serial killer?” I clarify.

Her eyes are on mine again. Hard. Dark in the shadow cast by her hair. “So many things are made through destruction of other things, aren’t they?” Her eyes flicker away. “Even things like... People like me.” Her voice is fading away, shrinking to nothing.

I let my hand visit hers, the hand she left next to mine on the open page. My pinky, somehow not as even and smooth as the other four fingers, links up with hers like a sideways pinky swear.

She’s the one who makes it a palm sandwich, a hand-kiss, her cool, smooth, perfect skin so soft against mine.

“They made you stronger, maybe. And... Who knows what happens now? Maybe good things?”

“How do you let yourself think that? Aren’t you afraid they’ll send someone after you?”

“If they did, they’d be another killer, wouldn’t they? I have no problem killing the killers, baby,” I whisper, sliding closer, skin on fire, the tingly kind.

Her breath quickens, audibly faster.

“I’d never hurt you. One of the good ones.” I don’t know where this goes. Literally. Do I put my arm around her waist because her shoulders hurt? Is any kind of touching a no-no when the girl you like is injured?

“I’m so bad. Worse than you know. I was basically a call girl after Frank decided we weren’t ‘exclusive’ and I was just a ‘favorite toy.’”

“I’ve slept with a succubus,” I confess, and my tongue does things I didn’t plan on doing. It runs slowly over my pointed teeth. Predatory. Sensual. Sexual. “They steal souls. Drain lives. They get paid in dreams, death, and scaring the shit out of people. Someone like you doesn’t scare me.”

Victoria nods, and she lifts her head.

So much closer with just one gesture. “There’s nothing someone like me could do to someone like you, anyway.”

I don’t know why she said it like that, but I shake my head. “I don’t believe that for a second. The quiet things can kill you just as fast as the noisy terrors.” Another smile, a realization that they meant me to be the slash-and-burn kind of killer, and I never killed a single target they had in mind. I took them out, and vanished.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Victoria’s hand starts to do things with mine. A tentative trailing of her thumb up and down my skin. She stops at the scar—then rolls the pad of her thumb over the railroad line of puckers that won’t heal, can’t heal, because they put me together with God-knows-what and left the stitches in for too long.

No one has ever touched those little ripples and puckers in my skin on purpose.

It shouldn’t feel good. Soothing and enticing at once.

She thinks she can’t hurt me?

Ha.

One quick look of revulsion would finish me off.

“Listen. About you and me—”

“I can’t do things right now. I don’t think,” she chokes out, “that my sprains and bruises are ready for that.”

The firebolt zaps down my spine, a distant memory of jumpstarting to life.

She means that she’s thinking about having sex with me. That’s it.

And that’s... wrong. So wrong. I want it, and I don’t—because I’m a fucking idiot, that’s why.

I want her without caring about the pain, and I can’t bear to imagine that I’d overlook it.

Stupid multi-owner body. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who is in charge, and I don’t know if that’s how humans feel, too, even though it’s just one person in the driver’s seat.

“I meant that we’re both dangerous. I don’t underestimate you, and you shouldn’t overestimate me. You know, Manny’s ‘maker’ didn’t want him to be too smart—or, if he did, he couldn’t just pipe in nonstop videos to educate him at warp speed. Manny had to learn things slowly and painfully, after he freed himself and Rhea. The one thing he’s always doing is learning new stuff, listening to podcasts, and watching nature shows. I heard that in Africa, lions and hippos are the big killers, and hippos kill way more than lions. Big and bulky. Lots of weight. Lots of teeth. You know what? Mosquitoes, tiny little things the size of your fingernail, kill millions more. Size and sharp teeth don’t mean a damn thing. It’s about what you carry.” I lick my lips and try not to groan when Victoria leans in. “I feel like you carry a lot of pain. Fury. I wouldn’t want to cross you.”

Victoria makes a soft, sudden noise, a desperate noise, and then she kisses me.