Page 67 of Rattle the Cage

But before she could disappear down the hall, I heard myself call after her. “I’m sorry. Too. If I uh… if things have been harder for you because of…”

“Thank you,” Nash smiled, rapping her knuckles gently against the doorframe. “I’m sorry too. I love you, dude.”

“I love you too.”

For a moment, there was a flicker of warmth in my chest. But as soon as Nash left my room, my brain was left with a new obsession: how the fuck can I move toward a future with Tess when my mind is still stuck on our past?

34

BLADE

The rhythmic hum of the power washing matched the buzzing in my own brain.

Last night’s hunt had helped calm my mind, and taking Tess on the back of the truck had done even more for me.

But it always wore off fast.

I watched the fresh water turn to a crimson river as I pointed the nozzle at the blood-stained cobblestone.

All morning I’d been reconstructing our traps, cleaning blood splatters off of the rides, and making sure any evidence was properly disposed of.

It was my job for our little family. And I liked it.

Being out in the park was far better than being cooped up in the house while everyone slept off our Fright Night.

Besides, Cyrus and Nash were better suited to working on the drug trade. And I handled Feverpoint, beastly as she was. That dealing shit got stuffy sometimes, requiring buttoned-up and considered behavior.

Cyrus and Nash were responsible for people’s lives, making deals.

Not my strong suit.

I was best at taking lives.

Laughing to myself, I drew a smiley face in the dried blood before washing it away with the power washer.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I tried to focus on my pattern, making sure every inch of the stone was sprayed clean.

I was fully myself out here, soaking in the fall sunlight and letting the cool breeze hit my arms. Just how I liked it.

From the corner of my eye, I saw that calico demon prancing up to the edge of my clean area. Lowering his head, Butch lapped up the bloody water.

“Little shit.” I grumbled as I turned the washer on him, making sure the pressure wasn’t too high to hurt.

Just enough to scare him off.

He tried to outlast the water, licking up a little more before I hissed at him.

Backing away, Butch swished his tail with displeasure.

“Get out of here, nasty bastard.”

If I left the fucker to his own devices, he would have tried to eat the bodies — at least whatever remained of them.

I’d gotten used to chasing him off the remnants of our hunts.

Honestly, his feral thirst for blood was part of why we kept him around. He was just like we were: a Freak with a lust for violence that only crimson could satiate.

Lost in my thoughts, my head jolted up when I heard heavy footsteps.