Some Velvet Sin, page 30
“What is always in front of you, but cannot be seen?” the man asked in a deep voice, looking eager for the answer.
“Hell if I know,” Victor shot back. “So now I can’t come through? Is that it?”
“Of course you can, dulcis. The riddles are simply for my own amusement.”
“That means sweetie,” Poisonelle informed Victor. “He calls everyone that.”
“The answer is the future,” Starkweather said. He stepped to one side, his arm lifting in an inviting gesture. “Welcome to yours.”
There were more trees on the other side of the gate, softly illuminating the darkness. Beyond them, a gathering of black mountains rose from black stone, all of them riddled with caves like primitive underworld palaces. A silvery sheen wreathed the whole place, as if it were doused in starlight.
Look at the stars.
You wanna see the stars?
Sweet and cherished as the memory was, it made him want to rage, because he and Cyn couldn’t ever have that again. He glanced at Poisonelle, who’d kept up a stream of chatter about this place. The Realm. She talked like living skulls and mountains of the dead were normal. To her, they probably were, but all this was new and strange for him. He didn’t think any person alive could’ve prepared themselves for something like this, but he figured he’d better get used to it.
“Make yourself at home,” Poisonelle concluded, whipping out her little book to consult. “I’ve got another one. A girl who died on the same night as you.” She looked up, meeting his eyes curiously. “In a graveyard.”
He couldn’t quite describe the feeling that rushed through him. Fear, misery, a frisson of denial, a hint of tentative, selfish hope.
It wasn’t her. Cyn couldn’t have died too.
Victor said nothing, and Poisonelle sashayed away, promising to check on him later. He turned his back on the forest and faced the caves, anger and sharp grief building white-hot inside him. It was for Cyn more than anyone, but also for Gil, and for his ma losing her son in similar fashion to losing the man she’d loved. It was for Scarlet and Albie walking around in the flesh, no worse for what they’d done, while he was left to rot in this place.
All because he’d loved a girl.
Buggies whizzed down the mountain in a foolhardy race, and a heap of trash burned. He needed to set about establishing his place among the rest of the ghouls, sooner rather than later. The only way he knew how to do that was fight, and so he did, starting something with anyone who came too near or looked at him funny. He’d have killed them if they weren’t already dead, just to get rid of the maelstrom inside him. But nothing made it better.
“You should challenge the prince,” one guy suggested as Victor bashed in his face.
Victor lowered his fist. “Tell me about that. What’s the deal if you win?”
“Nobody ever wins against Storm.”
Shaking the guy roughly, Victor demanded information, and the guy gave it up. Once he was satisfied, Victor let the guy go and prowled around menacingly, thinking of his next move.
And wondering about the graveyard girl.
The prince himself, some puffed-up guy called Storm, came down from the mountain and made everyone give him shiny pieces of the forgotten trash that littered the Realm in heaps. A tithe, he called it. Victor sneered at the stupidity of the ritual, an obvious power play. Storm was arrogant, vain. It was clear from the number of skulls on the gate he’d won lots of fights, but Victor thought he could take him in one of these challenges.
Because if he won, he’d become the prince. That was what he’d heard. He’d have something to show Cyn—if she was the girl in the graveyard—something that might keep him from drowning in his own heartache. Look at me now, he might say to her. She’d wanted him to prove himself. Maybe this was how he could do it.
His body ached for another fight. He kept his eye on Storm and studied his movements. When the bag of treasures came his way, he threw in the silver lighter Cyn had given him to replace the one he’d lost, though it killed him to part with it.
Ha, he thought to himself, feeling no amusement.
He saw Poisonelle, one of the few in the Realm he didn’t feel compelled to deck. “Hey,” he called, hurrying to her side. “Where is she? The girl from the graveyard?”
“Hello to you too,” she said, rolling her eyes. “She’s still there. Wouldn’t come with me, stubborn thing. I’ll have to go back and try again before the exiles get her.”
“Let me try.” The words flew eagerly from his mouth, more a demand than an offer. He hadn’t planned it, but now he realized how right it was. He’d go see for himself whether or not the girl was Cyn.
Poisonelle’s thin brows came together. “Why on earth would you want to?”
“For something to do, all right?” He huffed a breath; he didn’t care to explain himself. “You said I could go anywhere.”
“You’re right, I said it. And it’s true. All right, if you really wanna give it a go, who am I to stop you? As long as your intentions are honorable, mind you. This dame’s in a state.”
“Yeah,” he assured her, though honorable wasn’t the word he’d have chosen. “I ain’t gonna hurt her.”
“You’d better not. Now, you’ll need some protection against the exiles, because they’re closing in on her,” she told him.
“Protection? I thought they had no use for me.”
“That was before, when you were wallowing. You’re different now. Not quite so desolate.” She motioned for him to follow her toward one of the cave openings. “By the by, did you ever come up with a name?”
He’d been thinking about it for… Well, he wasn’t exactly sure, since time had no meaning here and all the clocks said something different. To do what he planned, he’d need a name that demonstrated death and fury, a remorseless name, something that would make people think twice before messing with him. At some point he’d linked together two words that had run through his mind again and again since he’d gotten here, two words that kept him going when all he wanted was to mourn.
“Just call me Killgrave,” he said brusquely.
Poisonelle made a quiet sound of approval. “Like I said. The cat’s meow.”
The cave they entered held all sorts of piles and racks of clothing and accessories, everything tossed around with no attempt at organization. Ophelia was the dripping wet woman who evidently ran the place.
“This is Killgrave,” Poisonelle said. “He’s going to venture out among the living, and he needs a piece of protection.”
Ophelia looked at him, quietly assessing. “What can you trade?”
His leather jacket was ruined, roughed up, one shoulder shredded from when he’d skidded across the asphalt. But it was all he had left, and this place was full of clothes, so he shrugged it off and held it toward the woman. She took it, testing the weight, and seemed to find it satisfying because she tossed it atop a nearby pile. Then she pointed to a recklessly tall stack of ladies’ hats. Victor moved them aside, and beneath them lay a glowing, blue-white stone on a silver chain.
“That’s all you need,” Poisonelle said. “You’d better report back to me when you’re done, see, or I’ll come find you.”
“I will. And I’ll bring the little graveyard queen back safe and sound.”
She seemed to trust him, however reluctantly, and gave him instructions on how to leave. How to get back. He nodded wordlessly to Starkweather just before he passed through the undulating stone—a doorway between worlds. On the other side, he found himself at the edge of the graveyard outside of town. It was a place he’d only ever driven past, but he recognized it instantly.
His suspicions were true: the girl in the graveyard was Cyn, and she sat on the ground several yards from where he stood. Haloed in moonlight. She had her knees drawn to her chest, something she did only when she felt particularly vulnerable. He regarded her clothes in confusion, nearly laughing out loud at the sight of her wearing a pastel sweater and a big circle skirt, like some kind of nice girl.
A cool wind whisked past, whistling through the branches of trees that had lost their leaves. How long’s it been? he wondered uneasily. It looked like fall, but summer had barely begun when he’d died.
Poisonelle had said Cyn died the same night as him. How long had she sat here alone?
He’d been so close, yet unable to get to her. The knowledge made him feel worthless, like he’d failed her. He hated the troubled, frightened look on her face, and hated himself for caring after what she’d told him. After all he’d been through since then.
Victor suddenly noticed the exiles gliding ominously from the darkness around her. There was no time to make sense of the things he felt or think of anything at all. One of them darted toward her as she shouted at it, and he watched it slither past her lips in cold horror. He sprinted across the graveyard, pendant in hand, and the shadows scattered to open a path to Cyn. Falling to his knees beside her, he pressed the pendant to her chest and watched the blue tinge fade from her skin.
After their last encounter, and looking like he did now, he wasn’t sure how she’d react to his presence, so he backed off to give her space as she regained consciousness. He perched himself on a nearby headstone, watching her intently, and waited.
He was patient.
THIRTY-FIVE
Between
We walked up the beach road through the dark, the graveyard at our backs. It must have been midnight, or nearly.
It was winter now, but we barely felt the brisk wind whipping off the coast. We were just ghosts, after all. The pain that haunted us in this world was just a memory. Nothing here could touch us, and we were too insubstantial to leave any lasting effect.
I’d avoided looking at Killgrave ever since leaving the graveyard. He walked beside me, eyes on the road. His lowered brow and tense jaw revealed the storm inside him. I could see it in his dark gaze, and I felt an answering pang of hurt when I recalled the look on his face that afternoon at school: wounded, dumbfounded, angry.
Up until then, even after the hurtful way I’d treated him and the sharp words with which he’d retaliated, he’d believed we were in love. And I’d pulled the rug right out from under him. I’d put that nasty storm inside him. I’d turned him into this.
I looked away just as he angled his face in my direction. My nerves sizzled like they did every time he touched me, but this was just his gaze raking me over. Maybe he wanted something from me, something more than my pitiful apology. Well, I wouldn’t give it to him.
After a few more steps, I realized he’d stopped walking. I turned back toward him, hands on my hips. “What gives, Vic?”
He lifted his eyebrows, as if surprised I’d ask such a thing. “You’re just gonna keep on this way, aren’t you?” he said with a little shake of his head. “Shutting me out, acting like you don’t care. Are we just gonna ignore each other from now on? Break each other down when things get hard—forever?”
“I—don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know, Cyn, I was planning to gloat a lot more. When I found out you were the girl in the graveyard, I thought I’d show you how important I was in the Realm. I’d show you just what you were missing.”
“Yeah?” I sneered.
“Yeah, but then I found out you’d lost your memory, and you never did fall for tricks anyway. You were a little thief, but you never cared about material things. You didn’t want power or recognition. That wasn’t what drove you. Whatever you wanted, it was more elusive than a ring or a well-to-do guy. I thought I’d figured you out, but even after death you were keeping me on my toes.”
“You got a point with all this?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my middle. “We’ve got places to be, and my head is killin’ me.”
“I was messed up over you, doll. I thought maybe it’d be easier to win you back if you didn’t remember what’d happened between us.” He shifted his weight to the opposite hip in one fluid movement, staring me down with those eyes like thunder. “But it turned out I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t lie like that, and I would’ve been missing out on some of the best parts of you.”
“Well, here I am. The whole goddamn package. Joke’s on you, because it ain’t so great.”
He shrugged. “It is to me. Like I said, I want it all. Anything less would be a lie.”
It was a struggle to separate the two sides of him: who he’d been, and who he’d become. Victor had an undeniable toughness, but he was also sweet and earnest, loyal even when he shouldn’t be. Killgrave was harder, more unsympathetic, the dark and vicious embodiment of the pain I’d caused. The dead boy in front of me contained every part of both, and he frightened me more than either of the others ever had on their own.
“Then you must be a glutton for punishment.”
“And here I thought I was an idealist.”
“Maybe you’re both,” I snapped. “Either way, it makes no difference to me, because you’re just another guy, and guys will say anything to get what they want.”
“I’ve always told you the truth,” he said, his voice quiet but fierce. “You’re the one who likes to lie, to me and to yourself. So stop it, Cyn. I know exactly what you’re trying to do. It’s what you’ve always done.”
I jerked my head to one side before he noticed the film of tears over my eyes. “And what’s that?”
“Push me away. You wanted an easy lay, and to be honest, I wanted that too. But it was always more than that with us, right from the start. I got too close, and that scared you. The idea that someone could truly love you was more than you were prepared to handle. Your love was more than you were prepared to give, and I guess it still is. You’re still scared, because you just can’t believe someone wants you. That someone loves you.”
My chest hurt. Everything hurt. I was choking on my own heart, and still I refused to look at him.
“And I understand that,” he went on ruthlessly. “But don’t tell me my feelings are lies. I’ve felt a lot of things when it comes to you, and it hasn’t been an easy road. You took me by surprise too, doll. The difference is that I wasn’t ever gonna run away from what we had.”
We stood in silence for a few seconds, frozen, just looking at each other. Everything he’d said was true. I was scared, and I’d never believed he could even like me. I hadn’t trusted him enough, though he’d given me every reason to. I’m with you all the way, he’d promised, and I wished I’d listened.
“Whenever you’re ready, Cyn,” he said.
He strode past me to continue up the road, his gait cool and unhurried. I turned to watch him go, his shoulders and hips moving in that unmistakable swagger.
This wasn’t him giving up on me. He’d never done that, and he never would; he’d said it more than once. He’d proven it. He was just that kind, different from the others. Too good to be true, I’d always thought. Lying to myself so I wouldn’t fall for him. So I wouldn’t get hurt.
But I’d messed up, because I had fallen for him. I’d fallen a long time ago.
Every time he walked away from me, every time he turned his back, it was only to give me room. Time to come to my senses. Despite everything I’d done to make him believe otherwise, he knew how I felt. He must have known all along I’d come around. The guy was patient, more so than I deserved.
I wasn’t.
“Vic!”
His name was urgent on my tongue, my voice breaking with a tide of emotion. I choked it down, watching as he slowed to a halt in the middle of that deserted road. He didn’t turn around, just stood with his head bent, waiting.
“You’re—an idiot,” I said. My voice wobbled, and I swallowed an involuntary sob to steady it. “You said you liked me just the way I was, but I couldn’t accept that. What kind of boy would say a thing like that? To a girl like me? It was too good with us, all right? I knew it was only a matter of time before you moved on to greener pastures, so I had to let you go. I had to hurt you before you hurt me, because you would’ve, Vic. The way I felt about you, it was bound to happen. So I did it first, even though I knew it was wrong the whole time.”
He’d turned now, gazing back at me with an unreadable expression. I was probably saying all the wrong things. It wasn’t like I’d ever confessed my love for anyone, let alone the only boy who’d ever meant anything to me.
“You just wouldn’t go away,” I said brusquely. I heard the desperation edging into my words. “No matter what I said to you. Jeez, I thought I was the stubborn one. Yeah, I was scared, all right? But I couldn’t stay away from you either, because…”
“Because what, Cyn?”
I hitched an uneven breath. “I ruined everything so you’d forget about me.”
“As if I ever could,” Victor said softly—because he was all Victor now. Killgrave’s darkness had retreated, leaving me faced with the boy I didn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry,” I bit out, lowering my eyes, because suddenly it hurt too much to look directly at him. “You don’t know how much I wish I could take it all back, just so I wouldn’t have to remember the expression on your face when I told you what I did. So I wouldn’t have to feel like dying all over again every time I think about how I hurt you.”
After several shaky breaths, I had to lift my eyes again. I had to face him, no matter how raw it made me feel to do so. He was still watching me, his expression giving nothing away. But I wasn’t done. He deserved the whole truth—the one thing I’d never wanted him to know.
“Look, I know I messed up. I messed up so bad we’re dead now, and there’s no coming back from any of this. But I love you, Vic. I do. You got to me, Slick, and you’re the only one who ever did.”
My eyes caught the dazzle of stars through the film of tears that had yet to fall. They seemed more captivating than ever tonight, sparkling ever brighter with each flare of pain in my head. I knew Victor must have been hurting too, but when I let my eyes drift back toward him, he didn’t show it. He stood still, those diamond-bright stars at his back.
